The Interview

she was tall... lean ... fit.




Her hair a deep red, her skin a tempting olive tan



Her legs long, sleek, amazing.



Her feet inside 4-inch heels, black, accenting her perfect arches and freshly manicured toes...



She wore a black dress cut high... with a neckline inviting attention



She checked her phone, then checked it again. Found the office number where they were to meet.



His office. A strange town. A red brick building over 100 years old.



Dimly lit elevator, dark hallway.



She knocked on the door.



The door opened and she saw him. In her heels, she was a bit taller...more than a bit taller than he was.



He was fit and lean as well, attired in a dark suit, white shirt, blue tie.



He closed the door as she eased in...



She felt his arm on her back... felt his body as his lips grazed her neck.



She was against the wall ... and his lips were on her shoulders.



His hand held her arms against her waist...



He delighted in the scent of her perfume...soft, subtle, enveloping the room



She felt his hardness against her... felt his body close on hers



The zipper to her dress went down... and his tongue and lips followed, tracing her spine



His hands on her waist, now her legs... discovering their firm feel...



He traces a line back up, bites her neck... his hands easing the dress off her shoulders...



He rests his hands on her soft stomach... lets them linger... then up to her breasts as his kisses on her back and neck grow more intense...



He traces back down... his kisses on the firm, wonderful flesh of her ass... admiring the lacy thong... his hand removing it and noting her warmth, her moisture...



He dives into her... tongue against her anal opening... her moans clearly audible beyond the wooden door



his fingers against her clit as his mouth teases and taunts her ass...



with the other hand, a finger penetrates her anus... and his mouth finds the sweet, delicate flavor of her pussy...



the sensation makes her moan deeply and he is entranced...focused... massaging her clit with his tongue, two fingers inside her, rocking in a gentle rhythm...



he won't stop... tongue fucking her, tasting her very essence... diving inside and licking up and down, side to side.. licking the inside of her pink flesh



her eyes are closed, her head back... he keeps going, licking, sucking, taking her clit in his mouth as his fingers go up and in, finding that just so sensitive spot...



Again and again he hits her pleasure center... and finally, her hands on his slightly moist hair, she screams... says his name over and over...



Her weak legs seem to collapse... and he directs her to the nearby chair... her juices seeping onto the cloth seat...



her long, lithe arms reach out, and he embraces her...and for the first time, they kiss...their lips on fire as they dance



Her other hand finds his belt, unbuckles, unzips... reaches in to find throbbing heat against soft cotton



Reaching past elastic, she finds the head of his raging cock... notes the pre-cum and rubs just under the head, circles...



He stands and she pulls him close... Her lips gently caress the tip of his head... her tongue traces down his shaft, all the way to his balls...and back up... and down again...



and then he is fully in her mouth. she is devouring him, he is fucking her lips, her tongue... admiring her incredible body... his tie against her deep red locks...



He savors the moment, savors her... enjoys the sound of his cock against the flesh of her mouth... he nearly explodes as she looks up at him, practically begging him for more...



He places a hand on her head, tugs gently ...pulls her back...



He tells her to stand up... and he takes a seat... takes his shirt off...



and there he is... naked, sweaty, cock huge with desire...



and she straddles him... the wet lips of her pussy against his chest... working down



he holds his cock in his hand... teases her clit with the head...and she can't take it, she sits on him... all the way down... all the way, taking every inch of his cock inside



she looks at him, leans down, the lips meet as their bodies find a rhythm...



his hands on her waist, he guides her up and down, at the right speed... lips on her breasts, her neck... squeezing as he nears orgasm...



he thrusts deep, deeper, harder... she is begging his cock to take her ... faster... harder...



He wants more, all of her...



in, out... all the way out.. .plunging back in...holding her down as he grinds against her...



as they kiss again, lips still hot with desire, he feels the head of his cock grow larger... feels the tingling sensation... and lets go...



his hot, white liquid fills her... one, two, three...more thrusts... she is still fucking him, his cock semi-hard... wanting more



their bodies sticky, the air thick with the scent of sex...



smiles



a warm embrace... she on his lap, his cock resting... her body just warming up...

Midnight

It is 7:45 PM.

I sit alone in a crowded parking lot.

Neon lights stare in as human eyes ignore.

Carts rush by and clank and clatter and crash and stop.

I taste and close my eyes.

And it is midnight.

For one second. For two. Three seconds.  Five.

I open my eyes and it is 7:46 turning to :47.

The sweetness on my lips.

In my mind, it is midnight.

Dark chocolate sends the message of pleasure my brain so desperately needs.

I recall an earlier time.

Quiet, lonely nights.

Comfort found in food alone.  Checks bounced to buy whole pizzas.

Tonight, it's midnight. For exactly 1 minute and 33 seconds, it is midnight.

The rest of the chocolate provides only momentary delight.

And midnight is gone.

By 8:03 PM I am home.

But for almost two full minutes that day, I felt pure pleasure.

Monarch

The office is in a building that is 100 years old.  116 years old, really.  It’s a brick building, painted over several times.  Two quick-service restaurants are in the lower floor.  The bathrooms are only accessible with a key because a number of homeless people hang out in the small park just across the street – if the bathrooms were publicly accessible, homeless men would clean up there.  Or live there in the cold or hot weather.  Not really good for business.  But it sucks to have to tell your clients they need your key to use the bathroom.  On the plus side, it is easy to schedule a lunch very close to the office. 

 

The building smells.  Like old paper.  The businesses inside vary.  Lawyers in solo practice.  Medical billing firms.  Some very small production companies.  A jewelry repair shop.  A shoe repair shop.  The building owners also run a company that makes “smart” water, whatever that is.  You have to use the elevators to go upstairs.  This is also to protect from homeless people.  Plus, once you are on a floor, you can only exit via the stairs to the ground floor – again, for safety. 

 

The building locks at 6 and requires special entry via a digital “key.”

 

His office is 125 square feet.  The rent is very low for downtown.  The location is ideal for a number of the occupants.  Rent payment is generally flexible.  His business is somewhat slow – but the office is a nice (and mostly quiet) place for him to write, to think, and to masturbate. 

 

He started seeing clients there recently.  Clients of a vaguely defined business enterprise.  Most paid him in cash.  One particularly exasperating project earned him a year’s supply of free frozen yogurt and $25. 

 

Most of his client engagements lasted two to three months.  He couldn’t quite explain that phenomenon.  But it paid the rent and his bills.  You know food and the cost of maintaining a red Mercury Monarch. 

I used to cry

I used to cry.

I would hear a song or see a movie or watch a video and I'd cry.

I'd cry hard.

That Ed Sheeran song about the A Team would come on and I'd cry in my car and just bawl and lose it.

But, I don't cry anymore.

I'm too hardened by months of sad existence. 

I heard that song -- the one I heard when I was 16 -- "never felt, never know, never shined through in what I've shown..."

And I felt it ... the sensation, the emotion, the calm before the cry.

But, no cry.

No choice but to go on.

To move on. To keep driving. To go to "work." To do what I had to make at least some money today.

Can you be so sad you don't cry?

Can your soul die inside and never come back?

I'm not sure.

I used to want to be touched.  Now, I don't.

I want to be alone and only alone.

All day. Every day.

Forever.

Something is clearly wrong with me. 

The same things keep happening again and again and again.

So, it must be me.

I don't know what it is.

I don't know why it happens.

I know that I don't cry and don't want to be touched and I want to be alone.

I know that I'm watching my life from outside myself.

Do people know I have a dying soul?

Do people sense the rotten dark spot inside me? Is that it?

What if I can convince just one person to not see it... to look past it?

Will my soul regenerate just a bit? Can I get it back?

Every time I think about being completely happy, I think of a single moment when I was 17. 

One, single moment.  That moment was surrounded by other, very joyous moments.  But at that moment, I was completely, totally happy. 

I was innocent, young, ignorant of the perils that awaited me.

And I wonder if, if I'll ever feel that again. Or something close.

Or, if, because I don't cry, I can't be truly happy, either.

If the loss of my soul is permanent...

I used to cry.