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Forty Eight Hours

By: Dragonia



48

Gail trudged through the station the day had just dragged. She had trouble keeping her mind on anything but what she had experienced the previous night at Mistress Rebekah's. She glanced at her watch, "thank god only half an hour to go," she said before sitting down at her desk to go through yet more paper work. 

Thirty-five minutes later Gail walked through her front door and straight into the bedroom. She quickly undressed and showered. Lying on her bed were the clothes she wore the previous night, the boots, the corset and the little skirt. She dressed and walked about a bit -- she was still getting used to walking in such a high heel but she was getting better. She did her hair and makeup before sitting down in front of her computer and turning it on. She logged onto the Internet, it opened the window and she smiled as 'The World of Mistress Rebekah' appeared before her, then 'Step 2'. 

A soft spoken voice read the words as they appeared on the screen, "Welcome back to Mistress Rebekah's world, you are now on stage two. I assume you are dressed appropriately for your Mistress?"

Gail smiled and said, "Yes Mistress."

The narrative continued, "very good, now stage two will require you to show your devotion to your Mistress by doing something that you may not want to do. This is a very important part of your training so that you will know that your Mistress' happiness is all that will matter and that your personal discomfort does not matter." "Your Mistress requires you to do several things tonight to prove your love to her, now check your mail."

Gail hadn't noticed the parcel that was still partially hanging from her letterbox due to her eagerness. She quickly tottered to the parcel and brought it back to the computer to open. She ripped the end open and poured it onto her open hand. A beeper fell into her hand. There was nothing else in the package. She pressed the on button and watched the beeper as words started to scroll across the small screen. 'Welcome to Mistress Rebekah's World...you are now the property of the divine Mistress Rebekah, you must keep this beeper with you at all times...you must do exactly what is asked of you...you must not deviate from what is being asked of you...if anything is not done then Mistress Rebekah will not see you again and you will be black-listed...if you understand and wish to process press 'reset' on the beeper and 'enter' on the keyboard...remember you must keep this beeper with you at all times.

Gail pressed reset on the beeper, took it and clipped it to the waistband of her skirt before pressing enter on her keyboard. 

Gail left the house and climbed into the waiting car. She shook her head a little, "what have I gotten myself into here," she said softly before her mind wandered to Mistress Rebekah stood over her. She felt a warm glow between her legs and let any doubt disappear before she sat up crossed her legs. The car had tinted windows but Gail could see where she was going and she knew what she had to do. The car headed out of the city and into the upper-class county house area that Gail had grown up in. The car entered into a long gravel driveway the plaque on the post said 'Holloway House'. 

Gail's parents had always disapproved of her career choice, they always envisaged her marrying a wealthy banker or lawyer and living like a kept woman. Gail despised such women, they were always stupid, petty women who seemed to spend their lives worrying that the curtains didn't quite match the tablecloths and other such menial things. Gail's mother Trudy was one such woman and Gail's father Charles was one such banker. He had made his money in the property boom of the early eighties. Considering that they had both grown up in such deprived areas Gail found it amazing they were now both such social climbers and snobs to boot. Gail hardly saw her parents any more; they always looked down on her and tried to fix her up with some brain-dead inbred ass from the 'city'. 

The car pulled up to the front of the house. The driver got out and opened the door for Gail who got out of the car and straightened her skirt before walking confidently up the steps to the front door. Despite her confident look, inside her stomach was turning circles. She used the knocker twice on the door before stepping back one-step to wait. She heard the familiar steps of George the butler half-walking, half-skipping towards the door.

Gail looked up at George, he looked down at her, sneered, "yes", he said, "can I help you?"

"Yes George, you can, tell my parents I am here and want to see them," Gail replied.

"Your parents?" George replied, "I think you must be mistaken miss..."

"Don't you recognise me George?" "It's Gail."

"Gail? Is it really you? My god you have changed," he lent down and gave her a hug, "it's been so long and you look so different".

"Yes George, please tell my parents that I must see them", Gail said stepping into the doorway.

"Right away Miss Gail" replied George.

"Thank you George, oh and George, its just Gail now, ok?"

"As you wish, Gail," George said before skipping off down the corridor.

Gail walked into the left reception room, she noticed that it had been re-decorated since she was here last, typical she thought. She walked over to fireplace and looked into the mirror, checking her makeup.

Gail heard steps behind her, "Gail, is that you?" Trudy Holloway said in shock.

Gail turned round to see her Mother and Father dress in tweed looking at her aghast. "Yes Mother it's me, hello Father." Gail's Father just stared open mouth.

"What are you doing wearing those ridiculous clothes, you look like a common prostitute!" her Mother said in disgust.

"I suppose I do, don't I Mother?" Gail just smiled at her Mother's outrage.

"Take them off this instance!" her Mother barked.

"Ok", Gail said almost immediately unzipping her skirt and untying her corset in seconds leaving her standing there naked except for her boots. Gail's Father sat down, her Mother passed out, crumpled into a ball on the soft shag-piled carpet. Gail laughed, she walked over and stood over her Mother, Gail then looked at her Father, he couldn't move, he hadn't said anything since he had seen her; he just stared unable to take his eyes from his daughters body. She walked over and stood right in front of him, "do you like my body daddy?" all he could do was nod his head. "Yes I thought you would, at least now I have bigger titties than the last time you played with them?" 

Gail saw a tear roll down his face, "I am sorry Gail, I never," 

"You never what? Wanted to force you onto me, rape me, use me like your personal fucking whore, what Daddy you never what?" "Well look what I've turned into Daddy; I'm a dirty whore and filthy slut that is fucked for fun." He sat, tears rolling down his face.

"I'm so sorry" he said between deep breaths as his face washed over with tears.

Gail leant down to her mother still passed out on the floor; she shook her until she slowly opened her eyes, "wake up you bitch." Gail's mother got up and sat down next to Gail's sobbing father. "You knew what he did to me, didn't you! Why did you just sit back and let it happen?"

Gail's mother just sat head bowed. "Look at me mother, look at what I have become, but you see its not because that bastard abused me, and its not because you looked away and let it happen it is because this is what I am." "I am a sexy slut who now has found love with a Mistress, she treats me in the right way, she loves me in the way you never could and I love her more than both of you!" 

With that Gail picked up her clothes and walked confidently out of the room and out of their house for good. 

Gail dressed in the car a solitary tear roll down her face; she took a deep breath and felt a million times better. She felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She screamed out loud and laughed. Sitting back in the car she smiled broadly closed her eyes thinking of Mistress Rebekah.

It was getting quite dark when the car pulled up. Gail opened her eyes and got out of the car. She stepped out and let her eyes adjust to the darkness.

Gail was stood outside a boarded up building, she went to the door and hit it twice with her hand. A hatch slid open and two very blue eyes looked at her before the hatch slid close again. Gail waited as she heard bolts and chains jangling on the other side of the door. The door opened and Gail stepped inside. The interior of the building was nothing like outside, it was a deep red colour with sheets of black and crimson material draped from the walls. The blue eyes had belonged to a young boy who took her hand and led her down a narrow passageway. The boy left her at a large oak door -- and walked back the other way.

Gail knocked the door and then heaved to push it open. Inside was a very white room with what looked like a dentist chair with leg stirrups in the middle and lots of medical instruments laid across one side. Gail went inside and then noticed a man stood in the corner wearing a white smock. 

"Remove your skirt and sit on the bench," he said as he picked up a large needle in one hand.

Gail did as she was told and sat on the chair her skirt neatly folded on the side. 

"Good now legs up here please," he said lifting her legs into the stirrups. He clipped them in and then knelt in front of her. Gail could only just see the top of his head between her thighs; he seemed to be probing her pussy with his fingers. The next thing Gail felt was excruciating pain in her clitoris. The man stood up and smiled at her.

"What did you do?" Gail said as tears ran down her cheeks.

"You now have a stud in your clitoris, Mistress Rebekah requires it of all her submissive," he said very matter-of-fact, as he turned around and started to sort out some other instruments.

"Now turn over and lie on your front," he unclipped the stirrups and Gail tenderly touched her now inflamed clit. The sensation was wonderful, the pain remained but wow what a feeling. 

Gail lay on her front the stood nestling in her clit rubbing as she lay on the leather bench. The man tied her legs and arms down and Gail was incapable of movement.

Gail could hear a dull drilling noise and then felt it, a scratching on her butt, just below her waist on the right hand side; it felt like he was cutting her with a knife. She realised that he must be tattooing her and tried her best not to make any sudden movements or any loud noise.

An hour later the man stool up and wiped her down, the pain had cause Gail to perspire quite a bit and her corset felt quite damp inside. The man then untied her and told her to stand. Gail felt sore but she was able to stand and was led to a mirror. There on her back she saw the fancy italic script reading, 'Mistress Rebekah's slut, gail'.

It was beautifully done and Gail found it hard to stop looking at it.

"It will be sore for a while, apply this to it daily," the man gave her a tube of ointment and then walked out of the room. Rebekah put her skirt back on and went out the way she came in, the boy let her out and she got into the waiting car. 

Gail was now property and there was no going back. She couldn't stop smiling.

Forty-eight Hours



Sincere thanks to my editor Bobash Finney. I welcome the feedback.

*****

CHAPTER 1

"Hey, are you OK?" My best friend Jackson asked. "You are not thinking about her are you?" He asked as if reading my mind.

"No." I lied. "I'm good. Just mediating on my assignment for the next days." He looked at me intensely, as if not believing a word I just said. "I'm good." I said with more emphasis, hoping I sounded more convincing. 

Truth is I was not good. I was indeed a mess. I had fallen in love. Yes, in love with another who was not available for me to have. I met her quite by chance. Central Park at spring time an exceedingly spellbinding period. I was out jogging and as I came around the lake, shaded by the flowering cherry trees, I felt physically ill. I twisted over holding my stomach and I heard someone say, "excuse me. What is the matter?" Before I could reply I regurgitated connecting with a pair of sneakers in front of me.

"Fuck!" I opened my mouth to apologize and out came some more. Instead of running away the voice reached out and rubbed my back.

"Hey, shall I call an ambulance?"

I gestured negative, "just please call me a cab."

"You certain, because you don't look at all well." 

"Please, yes a cab. I feel like shit however I only want to go home." It is then I looked upward to view who my saving grace was. I gasp at her striking features. She was stunning. Long black hair, olive skin tone and a body that was lean and sensual. Sexy elegance with a provocative innocence. I began sweating, not from the unusually warm spring afternoon but from the heat I was experiencing because of her.

"I don't believe you should go home. Is there someone waiting at home, or maybe someone I can call perhaps." There was sincere unease in her voice.

"No" I stammered, "I would be fine. Don't have my phone. Can you please call a taxi? 

"Okay. I will." The cab arrived within five minutes. My rescuer opened the door. I crawled in and she entered behind me. 

"Where too," asked the driver.

"Where too," she asked me. Dumbfounded I uttered off my address. 

We arrived, she paid the driver. Upon exiting the taxi, I was hit with another attack, hitting her running pants as well as some in the cab. She gave the driver additional money to get his car cleaned. My rescuer then held me at my waist and requested my house keys. I was shaking and feeling lightheaded. Not sure who was responsible for this turbulence, her or my upset stomach. As we arrived at my door, she had me lean more unto her as she freed her hands to unlock my door. 

I lived in a three-bedroom apartment on the Upper East Side. I love this block for its tree-lined street. The streets were well represented with an elegant row of lamps. The place was immaculate, with massive floors to ceiling glass windows. My floors were heated to allow me to walk barefooted. I really did not like shoes to be worn inside. I took my sneakers off immediately as I entered and my guest followed. I then removed all my clothing, my guest was flabbergasted. "This is why it is so clean," I explained. "I cannot walk through the house with clothing of puke," I smiled. 

"You are not saying I also have to remove my clothes?" She was not feeling this.

"I trust you don't mind. I will throw it into the machine here. You do not have to parade naked. There is a clean robe hanging on the rack."

"You are kidding me, right?"

I put my hand up, for my stomach was beginning again. I ran to the bathroom and threw up in the bowl. Immediately I cleaned up, brushed my teeth entered the shower. I made the water as hot as I can take. I was in there for almost thirty minutes when I heard the door open. My guest inquired on my wellbeing. She was wearing the robe, "is your clothing in the dryer?"

"Yes," she replied a little annoyed.

"Come," I said to her.

"Where."

"In the shower with me. It's big enough for us both and more. I promise not to puke."

She was the one appearing dumbfounded now. "I will pass."

"You really do not want to put on clean attire on your sweat and vomit, do you? Come in with me," I urged. "I need the company," she hesitated I sensed. "Don't think." I kept on prodding, "just come in." She opened the shower door with her robe on. "You can keep the robe if it makes you more comfortable." I stretch out my hand and she stepped in. "Hi," I said with a smile, I'm Currie and you are very beautiful. How is the water?" I straightaway asked in an attempt to change the atmosphere. 

"Hot. Turn down the heat some please?

"Feel free to turn it how you like it. I will get out and check on your laundry."

"No you don't. You lured me in here and you're now bolting." 

"Don't want to go but don't want you to feel weirded out."

"Too late. This surreal moment, an encounter with a damsel in distress and shortly thereafter I'm in the shower with her."

I laughed, "you have a sense of humor. I love that. What is your name my rescuer?"

" Remy."

"Well Remy I have to find a way to make this all up to you. I am indebted to being at your service indefinitely. However, at this moment I need to get out of this shower before I take further advantage of your hospitality." 

I stepped out of the shower before she could react. I was so aroused by this exquisite creature sharing my shower. I dried off and left a clean towel for her to dry off. I entered the laundry room and retrieved her clothing. Instinctively I smelled her panties. They smelled of the detergent they were washed in. I returned to the bathroom and left her garments on the rack. 

She entered the living room where I was laying on the couch. I had my robe on and nothing else. I was so spent from throwing up, I feel fast asleep. I awoke to a blanket on me and the lamp further away from me on. I heard noises coming from my kitchen. I peered in the kitchen and seen my rescuer in a pair of slacks and white shirt. I was struck once again by her stunning features. I observed she was barefooted and moved gracefully. She must be a ballerina or a model. She turned and interrupted my musing.

"I figure you should eat something. I brought you some homemade soup."

"Soup aye. Who made it?"

"I did."

"OK. In that case I will love some." She took my hand and led me to the table. I enjoyed her taking care of me. I can get use to this. Mmmm

"I went home to change, took your keys so I can get in. hope you don't mind."

"I don't... Soup, thanks very good." I was feeling almost myself again with that shower and rest, now food. "You're piling on the kindness," she smiled. "My infinite declaration of being indebted is earning its keep." 

"Just be well," she replied earnestly. "This is some kind of immaculate place you have. Are you an obsessive compulsive personality?" 

I laughed, "no just like things clean and organized."

"Tell me about you? I want to know whom I rescued."

"I'm a chemist for a pharmaceutical company. This immaculate apartment belongs to them. I just have the pleasure of living here while I work for them. I have a home in Seattle."

"Is that where you are from originally?"

"Noo. I was born in Germany to Brazilian father and a Caribbean mother. I grew up in Austria where science became an obsession. My mother was an aeronautical engineer and dad astronaut. I could have chosen any tech field I guess. My parents steered me to all things tech from a young age and I just enjoy discovering things. Some folks will refer to me as a geek." 

"Or a smarty pants," she answered.

I laughed, "no more like a smart ass."

"Why were you throwing up like that?" the serious tone came back.

"Don't know. Must have picked up a bug. Just returned from business in Dubai."

"Dubai. I love Dubai." 

"You travel a lot."

"Use too. I'm a model and an aspiring writer."

"Yes you are categorically beautiful and the world needs to behold."

She laughed, "thank you. I'm more than this outer shell. But it pays the bills. I am thankful for that."

"Modesty, I like, can cook, I'm in love. Will you marry me?" I directly looked into her eyes declaring jokingly. 

"Why off course I will," she humored me. The gazed got a little intense. This woman cannot possible be interested in me. I'm no slouch but to snag an oh so sexy, alluring and gorgeous model, even I with all my troubadour, know I was out of my league. Was she even gay? I kept her stare and allowed my eyes to wonder to her breast. Through her shirt they stood erect. The nipples protruding at me. I forced myself to look away and into my empty bowl of soup.

"This was indeed a healing soup. I feel a hundred percent myself again. Thank you kindly."

"De nada," she quickly said attempting to break the spell. 

I gathered our bowls to rinse and put into the dishwasher. "Join me in the living room." I grabbed her hand and led her. I turned on some Jazz and sat across from her on the couch. We enjoyed the music in silence for a little, then I inquired, "what kind of person helps a stranger like this?" 

She was leaning back and her beautiful mane sprinkled over the couch. She turned in my direction to answer, "I'm not quite sure. I have never gone this far but I believe in helping others. It's the supreme rule," she grinned.

"What do you mean this far," I teased. "Taking a shower with the damsel me lady."

She chuckled, "I like your sense of wit. You are so refreshing, the compelling factor that is drawing me. It's natural and peaceful in your presence. I would like to explore what it is about you that has me mesmerized.

I beamed, "I have you mesmerized," I said incredulously. "Lady since our roadside collision I have been in a state of stupor. All my brains are in overdrive. Your proximity is throwing me off balance." I eyed her. I wasn't lying. She was confusing the heck out of me. I did not want to make any sudden moves to add discomfort to her. She was a guest who was extremely kind to me. The shower scene informs her loudly, impling that I found her desirable. However, I only knew this woman a few hours I do not want to scare her. 

She was watching me intently. I did not mean for the words to be released, yet I heard myself say, "I want to make love to all of you. This is crazy. I want to get to know you yet, at this moment I want you." I moved closer to her. She did not retreat. I touched her hand, holding it and watching for signs she is disgusted. I touched her face, her eyes, her lips. I caressed her softly. I pulled here nearer and held her face close to mine and as if given permission I kissed her. I kissed her long, hard and sensual. Exploring all corners of her beautiful mouth. 

I drew her even closer and put my hands up her back all the while still holding unto the kiss. I was now drunk with passion. Even if she wanted me to stop I could not. I wanted to go slow but I was powerless over my lust for her. I could not waste time in continuing with the seduction. My objective was the landscape between her racy thighs. I yearn for her juices to fill me. I quickly discarded all her garments, ripping her underwear in the haste. I laid her gently on the sofa, spread her legs as far as the north is from the south and got lost like Dorothy in the wiz between them. I burrowed deep and my orgasmic avalanche came before hers. She was indeed wet and drench but I wanted tsunami results. I would not have conquered, if I fell short of that endeavor. I tonged deeper and hungrier for if I stop I thought this amazing dream will end. I devoured her for a long period. Totally hypnotized by her loveliness. I could not stop eating her, tasting her, interchangeably licking and sucking. Then the results I graved kept pouring out of her. As her climaxes spilled over I drank and drank all her juices. I'm not sure if she was exhausted but I continue eating her succulent fruit. She screams my name over and over. Alas what seem like the impossible I came up for air. 

She pulled me into her embrace and kissed me. She tasted her sweet sap and aggressively licked and tonged my face. I know I was exhausted and she was getting in a frenzy once again. I sense she wanted to now pleasure me. I brought us to lay on the soft carpet. I held her tightly and immediately fell asleep.

FORTY-EIGHT HOURS

Chapter 2

I awoke to soft feathered touches floating throughout my body. Remy was nibbling my earlobe and the sensation was getting my juices started. She brushed my hair away from my neck and place her lips lightly. She left gently kisses back and forth from my ear lobe to my neck all the while spooning me. I had my eyes closed fully involved in the sensation that she evoked. My body began graving more attention. This what she was doing was making me wild. She cupped my breast squeezing my nipples then releasing. She was working me over really good. I attempted to turn around but she was not ready just yet. She continued caressing my breast, flat stomach and ever so lightly she made contact with my pussy. 

I was muttering incoherently and squirming every which way. She entered me sending me into convulsions. She abruptly removed her fingers and immediately replace them with her tongue. I did not recognize the screams coming out of me. It was more of a yelp than a scream. This insatiable beauty was taking me to a plateau that I never imagine. She worked her way back to my lips and I kissed her passionately. I was pleasantly surprised at how completely satisfied I felt. "That was amazing." Yes, she was amazing. 

"Want you to hold that thought," she half smiled, "we need to talk." I always hated those sequence of words. I quivered a little because of the sincerity in her tone. Shit I really did not want this talk, but rather than shy away I was willing to hear her.

"OK, let's hear all you have to say."

"I'm married." 

I felt as though she had slapped me. This woman whom I have known less than forty-eight hours did not have any allegiance to me. Hot sex, hot body, hot pussy and hot her.

"Okay..." I said slowly. "Why did you not tell me sooner."

She looked exasperated, "don't know."

"Do you usually cheat on your spouse?"

She appeared hurt. "No. you are first and only one." 

"Why me? Why now?"

"I told you I was compelled and wanted to explore us. Still do. My husband and I are in the middle of a divorce." She was looking quite vulnerable. "I never met anyone like you."

"No one ever puke on you, eh?" lamely I said. She sensed the disappointment in my voice.

"I'm sorry." 

"I'm curious, why exactly are you apologizing, the sex? Don't, for I would have banged you anyway." I was angry and not sure why. I really do not like getting involve with married woman. A complication that is too consuming. This delight in front of me I really would have fucked even if I had known. With that revelation I knew this is a good time to part ways.

"I got caught up in the moment and will understand if you never wanted to see me again," she said quietly. I was searching for the words to form inside me and just allow this one, as I have done with countless others to fade. That will be the sensible conclusion. Right? Right.

"Shit! Woman who are you? Who am I when I am with you? I'm hurt yet I want to make love to you." I reached for her and kissed her. She began to cry sad whimpering tears. There is so much more going on here and I realized she was breaking right before my eyes. I led her into the bedroom, laid her gently on the bed as not to break her any further. I slowly caressed her body examining every inch of her. I was intent on analyzing the contours of all parts of her. Last night the urgent need to trounced by my cravings for her took precedence, today I decelerated. I dried her tears with my lips. I palmed her perfect 36C in my hands and played with her nipples. I placed my mouth on them slurping on one then the other methodically. Her whimpers turned to moans. I kept retracing my steps, circling from each breast. They were perfect as the rest of her. My only objective was to satisfy her. I was savoring the moment with a discipline I did not know I held. I wanted to find that treasure badly but I did not want to go direct, only detours. 

All parts of her body was calling me. I whispered in her ear I want her to beg me to taste her. I stretch out the length of her body and begun slowly grinding to the rhythms of her moans. I bucked to the side and place my finger inside her fondling her g-spot. She was a sea of liquid. I place two fingers inside of her and rode her as a wave on the ocean. As I thrust deeper and deeper she bit into my flesh with her long nails. The pain was exquisite. She begged me to kiss her pussy. Happy to oblige I went for it enjoying all of her. Ever so slowly I opened her labia licking her nectar as I go. I position my hands below her delicious butt and slightly lifted her placing two pillows below to elevate her some more. I took her clit greedily in and out with just enough suction. She was gyrating against my mouth, fast and furious. As quickly as her liquid flowed I lapped it up. I didn't want any to spill out. I stroked and slurped and held. I was delirious. I was in love.

I was in love with her flawless sexy body. She being married did bother me. That scenario was one I have avoided. Remy married, soon to be divorce, I could wait. 

She kissed me, "Got to be in Los Angeles early tomorrow. I've got a flight to catch." 

"Oh." I was disappointed. "What time?" The clock read 4.37. 

She missed her flight and scheduled a later flight. I wanted to ask what's next but this was a relationship I cannot take the lead. The complication was her maze and I had to think with other parts of my anatomy not my sexual obsession. The one between my thighs must remain far away from all decisions. I looked intently at her nude flawless physique. I stroked her entire frame, "I'm in love with your body. I desire you as I have no other. I lust for you." I said all this matter factually. I was not sure I was coming on too strong and scaring her. I watched her to read what she was thinking. She said nothing only held my gaze. I opened the draw next to my bed and removed a set of keys. 

"Whenever your situation is cleared. Clean slate, clean break then clean start. Auf wisdersehen mein retter. Goodbye my rescuer."



Forty-Eight Hours in Heaven & Hell



Part 1: Todd and Travis

"Michael," my boss says to me as I began my shift in the men's department of an upscale store, "I'd like you meet Todd. I want you to show him around the department and sort of let him shadow you so he can learn the ropes."

"Sure, John, " I say, relieved. Business has been real slow and when business is slow, the evening drags on forever.

[be nice and sweet with Todd, now. this character's important to our story. yeah, yeah, author, I say. Why don’t you tell the other characters to be nice to me once in a while?]

As I show Todd around, I size him up. He's twink through and through, kind of short, about 5' 8" and very slender, late thirties, early forties, but looks in his twenties. He has longish blond-brown hair and a great ass in his tight black jeans. He's wearing western boots. Still, he's kind of effeminate. 

Todd works with me the next few evenings. He's friendly enough and we make small talk when we can. He lives in a townhouse with a "friend," but I can't find out about the friend. When a good-looking woman customer walks by, I kid him. "Go for it!" I say, or "Nice piece, eh?" but I can't get a reaction from him. On the one hand, maybe he's just being professional; on the other, maybe Todd doesn't like girls. Most of the other guys I work with are gay, so why shouldn't Todd be? Don't matter.

About the fourth night, Todd waits on a male customer and spends a lot of time helping him pick out shirts, ties, socks, and so on. Every once in a while, Todd glances toward me to see if I'm watching him. Since I'm more or less his trainer, I do look his way to see that things are going smoothly. Todd motions me over.

"This guy needs a lot of help," Todd says, pulling me aside. "Can you give me a hand?"

The customer's about 6 feet tall. In his shorts and tank top, I could tell he is well built and works out. I get that feeling I get about a guy maybe 2 or 3 times a year: He's good looking and hot! That's as far as I ever get, though—a passing craving. I help him pick out what he needs, but I find myself looking at him and not the ties and shirts I'm showing him. Hot buns, though!

When the sale is done, I'm somewhat sorry to see the guy leave. Todd walks with the guy to the exit and they chat a little. Then Todd comes back to me.

"Shit, that guy's a stud, don't you think?" he asks a little too eagerly.

I’m not going to fall for this. "Well, he was good-looking. I don't know that I'd call him a stud, though."

Todd seems a little disappointed by my reaction. Is he trying to find out if I like guys?

"Yeah, I guess you could say he was a stud." I add. "He looks like he works out, not like a lot of the pigs that show up here!"

Todd seems happier with my remark. About a half-hour before closing, we head to the fitting rooms to clean and sort merchandise customers tried on and left there.

"You're married, aren't you?" Todd asks, a pile of pants in his arms.

"Was, Todd, was," I say. "Broke my heart she did." He looks at my left hand. "Oh, yeah, the ring. I'll take it off when someone wows me, but it's stayed there some 5 years now Keeps the wannabes and queers away!" 

"But why?" Todd asks. "I would think…."

"Todd," I interrupt, "thinking is overrated, especially when you reach my age. So are women. I'm 52 years old. The heart's a fragile thing. I don't know if I'd survive if it was broken again."

Todd says nothing. I realize I just laid some heavy personal shit on him.

"Wouldn't mind a real nice blow-job, though, you know, once in a while!" I say to ease the mood, and I slap him on his back.

Out back, we punch out. Todd and I walk to the parking lot. I stand by my car, ready to get in, when he stands next to me.

"I'd love to give you a nice, long, slow suck, Michael, if you'd like. If you close your eyes, you could imagine it's anyone you want licking your cock."

He makes it sound like a privilege I shouldn't pass up! "What the fuck!" is all I can think. Why put up a fight or argue. Here’s this cute guy in jeans and boots and a cute little ass! Five years without sex, without a blow job? "Todd," I say. "I'd really like that!"

As the last of the employee cars leave the dark lot, Todd kneels, unzips my pants, and pulls out my cock. He grasps it in his hand so that just the soft head shows. He licks it like an ice-cream cone. With his other hand, he caresses my balls and fingers them lightly. My cock goes from 0 to 7 inches in about 15 seconds. Todd grabs my hips and pulls me slowly into his warm mouth. I had always thought that guys would give better head than a woman—fuckin' right! He doesn't deep-throat me, which is fine. He sucks me in plenty and works my cock with his tongue. I would like to last longer but can't. I grab his head and hold it, then pump him a few times. I tense and explode. He moans real loud and chokes a little, but continues to suck me until I am empty and nearly limp. He puts my cock back into my pants, zips me, and stands up. He looks at me.

A man I hardly know just blows me in a dark parking lot. I should feel dirty and perverted. Anything but. I feel really good—pleased, relieved. In the street light, Todd looks like an angel. I notice a small drop of my jizz still on his lips. I put my arms around this cute guy and bring him to me. I place my lips on his mouth and suck his, tasting my cum. Then I slowly insert my tongue into his mouth. He sucks on it and I taste more of my cum. I do not think queer, fag, or anything. The urge to suck on his cock suddenly overwhelms me. Okay, man, cool! I can dig sex with a man!

"Todd, that was beautiful. Now let me return the favor," I say. "Please."

Todd grinds his hips into mine. "I would really like that, Michael, but I just want to savor the moment and your taste. You can do me some other time." He is awfully tender and sweet. 

"Let's go for a few beers at Maggie's," Todd suggests. "I `d like to get to know more about the guy who just came in my mouth!" 

"Sure," I reply, laughing. His face lights up the dark lot. We get into our cars and drive a half-mile down the road. I feel a weight lifted from my chest.

When we walk in, I notice Todd's "stud" sitting at a table, reading the paper and working on a drink. He looks up as we walk in and recognizes us. He waves. We both wave back. Todd goes to his table and they talk briefly. After a couple beers and shots, Todd seems halfway wasted.

"I gotta ask you," Todd says. "Was that your first time with a guy?" I nod yes.

"Did you like it, you know, getting sucked-off by a man?" I nod yes again, though I tell him I didn't think about his sex, just how great it felt.

"Would you really suck me?" Todd asks.

I'm getting a little pissed, like I'm being interviewed for a job or something.

"What is this, Todd? Twenty questions? Lookit, what's going on here? I've never touched another man sexually. Yeah, I've had fantasies about it. Yeah, I'd like to go down on you and have you fuck my face and lose your load in me. Want to go back in my van and I'll suck your cock now?"

"Nope!" Todd says with a girly giggle. "I don't have one! I'm a she not a he! My name's Sherrie."

Boing! A light bulb goes off. Now things start coming together and make a little sense. Another double, waiter, fast!

"All right," I say. "I'm dying to hear this!"

"My boyfriend Travis and I have been living together six years. Not long ago, he told me he thought he was bisexual, that he liked looking at guys, especially in the shower where he works out. I told him that was cool with me, as long as he loved me. He said he did. So I said to him he should go out and see if he was, but he said he couldn't do that. He didn't have the nerve to go to a gay bar and hit on a guy. And he really didn't want, you know, a really gay guy. Just a kind of gay guy. Like him, I guess. A bi, right? Someone who likes both women and men."

"Let me fill in the blanks here, Sherrie," I say, as I'm starting to get the picture. "You two decided you would get a job somewhere and try to find him a partner, right? And I fit the bill—once married, so you know I like women, a tad bitter after a divorce, a long time without sex, and someone who let's what he thinks is a guy blow him in a parking lot! Am I right? I pass the test?"

"You make it sound so dirty and deceitful," Sherrie says. "We didn't mean it to be. We thought everyone would be happy. Personally, I never thought this would work!"

"Well, it hasn't yet, Sherrie!" I say, with some edge to my voice. "Are you proposing that I come with you to your apartment and, what, suck off a guy I never met? Let him drill my ass so he can find out if he's bi? I mean, what's the deal—you blow me so I will blow him?"

"You already know him, Michael, sort of," Sherrie says. "He's sitting over there." She points to the guy I waited on and thought was hot. Sherrie motions for the guy to come over.

Travis brings his drink over and sits down.

"Honey," Sherrie says, "this is Michael." Travis extends his hand and I shake it. I feel a twitch in my crotch—just a little, but one nevertheless. I 
give up—I'm a bit hot for this guy!

"So, you want me to blow you?" I ask abruptly. "Or let you ride my ass?" Travis and Sherrie both look down, kind of embarrassed.

Travis says, looking me in the eye. "No, I wouldn't put it that bluntly. We thought the three of us could get together and see what happened. I don’t know. Maybe this is too fucking stupid. C’mon, let’s go Sherrie!"

"No, no!” I say. “I’m intrigued by the idea. Are we talking three-way here or just you and me?

“Like I said, man, we get together and see what happens!”

Well, fuckin' cool!" I say, buzzed and letting Fate play this hand. "When and where?"

"Well, it's only 9:15," Sherrie says, "and we live about 5 minutes away." They are both really excited. I'm getting there fast too!

"Shit! I was just gonna go home and watch some porn anyway. Might as well make some instead! You lead and I'll follow!" I say.

At their place, we have a few more drinks and my mind is pretty lubed by the booze. I am also turned on like a laser! Sherrie suggests we all jump into the hot tub. She takes off her tie and shirt. Her breasts are beautiful, small but firm, with erect nipples. I want to engulf them with my mouth. She takes off her pants and panties. As she stands there naked in her boots, my cock starts to rise. She is my dream fuck. I may blow this guy and let him fuck my ass, but I'm gonna cum deep in this bitch sometime 
soon!

She takes off her boots and slips into the tub. Travis and I still stand there, waiting for the other to strip.

"Come on in, boys," Sherrie yells, steam rising from her tits. "Fuck Travis," I think to myself. I strip and get in with her. I embrace her hard against me and we kiss. 

“I don’t know what going to go down here,” I whisper in her ear, “but it’s you I want!”

As Sherries grinds her lips and pelvis into mine, I see Travis over her shoulder. Though still dressed, I see that his cock is getting hard. I get really hard and hot.

He removes his shirt and I see his nearly hairless firm pecs and abs. My cock twitches up against Sherrie's cunt and she reaches down to grasp it. Travis drops his shorts and his cock bobs up and down in near firmness. I can't believe it, but I want him bad!

He wades to Sherrie and me, still in an embrace. The three of us grope each other, but I realize Sherrie is just there to break the ice, so to speak. More and more, Travis and I touch each other. I can't keep my hands off his cock and balls. He's squeezing my ass, rubbing my cheeks. He gently but firmly rubs my asshole. I suck on his nipples and he moans like a hot bitch—good! Soon, Sherrie is standing in the tub by herself. I want nothing now but to suck Travis down my throat.

"Sherrie," I say, "if you got a mini-cam, why don't you tape me while I suck Mr. T here?!" Both get really excited.

I lift Travis so he sits on the tub's edge. I spread his legs and admire his erect cock pointing directly at my face. It's beautiful—6 and a half or 7 inches long and not real thick. A fine first cock to suck, I think to myself! Go for it, Michael! Expand your taste buds!

I suck on the hood. Oh, God, that’s good. I lick under it and Travis moans loudly. Sherrie is about a foot away getting a close-up of his cock getting its first man-suck. I slowly suck in more and lick the underside again. I feel his cock get firmer, if that's possible. I release it and lift it to suck his balls. The warm water has really relaxed his sack and I take each swollen ball into my mouth. I am careful but firm as I lick and roll them. Travis is just one fuckin' groan machine! I spend several minutes on his nuts. 

I return to his cock and quickly deep-throat him. I want all of his cock in me. I move my head so it tickles my throat. Though I gag a little, I can't believe how good having his cock completely fill me feels. Sherrie holds the camera in one hand and plays with her twat with the other. While I'd love to get his load now, I decide to play this out as long as possible.

"Letting me suck you and swallow your cum doesn't prove shit, Trav," I say. "Ready to suck on me? Let's move to the bed and Sherrie can tape you sucking my cock and taking my load!"

Travis nods. We get out of the tub and hastily dry off.

I lay on the bed with my knees up and spread. Travis kneels and lowers himself. He grabs my cock at its base and blows on it. The cool air stirs it. He begins licking my balls. Sherrie meanwhile straddles my face and I get my first look at her gorgeous womanhood. She is completely shaven. Her lips are thick. I suck on them and lick them. They are engorged and sensitive. I reach up to spread them, and then tongue-fuck her. I lick up and touch her clit. She bucks down on my face and I am engulfed in her.

"Hey!" Travis says. "I didn't say you could eat my girl!"

I lift Sherrie off my face. "Listen, Trav. If you rewind this scene, you'll see that ol' Sherrie here plunked herself down on my face. I didn't ask her! Second, this is what's called bisexuality—bi means `two,' you're one and Sherrie is two. Now, get back to sucking me. Oh, and another thing, if you want to know if you like guys, you take my load and swallow! Get it, bitch boy?"

Travis gets off on this (I bet he'd like a spanking too!) and begins sucking me again. I guess I've wound his spring cause he goes at me like a bobblehead doll! He licks and sucks and moans. I do believe the man likes cocksucking. Sherrie sits back on my face. Eating some great snatch and getting a blowjob has to be just about every man's idea of bliss! 

Travis is sucking me hard. I hear slurping and popping sounds as he works me. "Great cock!" I barely hear him say as Sherrie grinds her clit against my tongue.

I thrust up to fuck his face. His hands reach under my ass and grasp each cheek. As I thrust, he pushes them up like he's doing arm curls with my ass! As Sherrie grinds my face and the bed begins to rock, I can't wait to watch this video—it's gonna be like watching the X-rated version of `The Blair Witch Project'!"

I think I should warn Mr. T that I'm coming, since it's his first time. "Trav," I say, "I'm gonna shoot real soon. Take it the way you like Sherrie to take yours. And be a good bi-guy. Don't spit—that's shit!"

Trav just keeps bobbing and the bed takes on a great rhythm so that I'm fucking his face while he pistons up and down. Sherrie is thrusting her hips so my extended tongue moves from her asshole to her clit. She cums and nearly pops my head into her! My face is absolutely drenched in her love honey and I thrust once more while cumming in Travis's mouth. Fortunately, I lost most of my jizz in Sherrie, so Travis doesn't get a full load. Sherrie moves to my cock and milks it, slurping the last few drops of my semen.

Trav kneels back on his haunches. It's the moment of truth. We just stay in our positions for a few seconds. And the verdict?

"Fuck!" Travis says, "that was fuckin' hot! Man, I loved that!" 

Sherrie hugs and kisses Travis and then turns to me.

"I second that emotion, Michael!" she says.

All of us seem really relieved. And it's only 9:45!

We sit around a while, have a couple drinks, and blow some reefer. Sherrie plugs in the video and we watch the action we just went through. Some of it is really hot—I like watching when Sherrie turned the camera around and catches my tongue slurping her. But as I thought, the camera bounces around a lot, liked it was strapped to someone on a trampoline! We're laughing, half from the vid and half from the grass. Travis, though, really likes the end as he takes my load in his mouth. I look at him in the armchair and his pole is at full attention.

"Well, I'm the only one here who ain't got no seed in his belly!" I slur. "I'm coming to suck on your meat, T!" I walk over to Travis, kneel, and spread his legs so they drape over the arms of the chair. I'm really stoned and plan on servicing this gorgeous cock righteously!

I move his ass to the chair's edge and give him a few quick licks and then slowly suck him in. Trav just throws his head back and groans. I alternate between a slow and a fast suck, driving him crazy. As I suck, I look up at him and notice he's looking past me and smiling. "Go ahead, Sher," he says, "ask him."

"Ready for a little ass action, Cunt Sucker?" Sherrie asks, but before I can answer, I feel her rub a warm mixture around and in my ass. Then I feel her place something against my ass. It starts vibrating. I just moan while Trav pushes my head down on his cock. Sherrie pushes the vibrator in a little more and I thrust my ass back to take it in! Damn! What is she doing? She moves her magic wand around and then holds it against my prostate. She cranks that baby up and my cock springs to attention. Didn't think 
I could after cumming twice tonight!

She pulls out whatever it is. "Ever get fucked by a bitch, Baby?" she asks.

"Plenty of times!" I grunt, "Just not in the ass!"

"First time for everything!" I feel what would seem like a cock push against me.

"Fuck him, Sher," Travis says. "Fuck him while he blows me!"

I'm guessing strap-on here, because Sherrie starts fucking me with slow, steady thrusts. God, this is good. I start working Trav's balls, sucking them into my mouth. I squeeze his sack high up so I can get them both in my mouth at the same time. Sherrie stops thrusting and buries the dildo deep in me and grinds away. As I engulf Trav's cock again, he grabs my head and begins thrusting.

"Does my bitch-slut like getting double-fucked?" Travis asks. "God, Michael, this is some kind of head you're giving. Right up there with Sherrie. I ain't cum yet tonight so when I do, I bet you can't take it all."

I love a dare!

I let him work me. I'm bucking back as Sherrie fucks me. Travis is fucking my face. Then, he tenses and holds my head firmly. One final thrust up—and I lose the dare! I cannot swallow his spurts fast enough—by the time I swallow one, two more have shot to the back of my throat. Sherrie has driven the dildo home and grinds it deep in me. While I'm swallowing and grinding back, I cum all over the front of the chair. Finally, Trav's cock settles down and I suck up the last few gushes. If the fucker would just 
let go of my head so I can breathe! Thanks Trav!

"Want me to work your ass a little more?" Sherrie asks, but pulls out without my answering.

"Sorry about the chair, guys!" I say. "But it's your fucking fault!"

I didn't, couldn't, shoot much, but Sherrie kneels down and licks up what I did. She turns to me and I get hot again. There's this gorgeous naked woman licking her lips clean of my jizz, wearing nothing but a leather strap and an 8 inch dildo, thick and deeply curved. I have enough of T's semen in me that I'm surprised it isn't coming out of my nose and ears. Trav is totally wasted.




Forty-Eight Hours in Heaven & Hell



"One last dip in the tub?" Sherrie asks. While Travis passes out, she and I wade in. As she leans against the side, I slide down into the water and start working her slit with my tongue. I turn her around and rim her, plunging my tongue deep into her ass, then come up for air. She embraces me and whispers in my ear "Yes, Michael, eat me till I cum once more!"

In the water, I am able to lift her and spread her nicely. I become her shark! The water's warmth and my tongue brings her quickly to the brink. I know by the vise-like grip her legs have on my head—and then sudden relaxation— that she cums.

She holds me close, not saying anything. Then I ask, "Coming to work tomorrow? Eight till three, remember!"

"You bet, lover," she smiles. "That leaves half the afternoon and all evening for more adventure!"

Part 2 Phantasmagoria

“Goooood Mornin’, Sherrie!” I shout as I see her at the time-clock. She looks at me with panic, and then I realize—no, this is supposed to be Todd, stupid shithead! She explains that she wants to keep this job, at least for a while.

We play stupid adolescent games all day, drawing a few stares from customers who think we’re just an openly gay couple. Not good. We’ll hear about this sooner or later.

At afternoon break, we talk in the lunchroom.

“So, tell me, Sherrie,” I say. “What are you up for after work? A bit of S&M, maybe?”

“Me a dominatrix? I don’t think so!” Sherrie says. “I didn’t know until this morning that Trav’s got a gig up in Beloit—he’s sax in a band. So, he’s gone, probably back tomorrow afternoon. What do you wanna do, Hot Stuff?!”

I am suddenly delighted. “Cool! I was hoping something like that might happen—you know, you and me together. Last night was fine. I kind of craved something exotic. But I’m a romantic at heart. I want to make love with you. You know, the two of us in bed, drinking wine, smoking dope, dipping in the hot tub. Then later on, we could fuck, you know,  like wild animals! Sound okay to you?”

“A wholesome Saturday night date, huh?” she laughs. Then, in a pensive voice, she says, “I’d really like that, Michael. I’d love to spend time with you in bed—and in the tub and in the kitchen and anywhere you wanna fuckin’ be!” she adds with her infectious laugh.

“Let me get clear on one thing, though, Sher,” I say. “Trav seems a bit possessive. Is this cool with him? Like, if we’re humping in the hot tub and he walks in cause his gig got cancelled—like, would he join us or pull out his .38 and plug me or you or both?”

“If you’re wondering if I asked his permission, then no. I mean, he’s the guy who asked me to find him another man for sex, so I don’t think he’s got much to say to me! Or you!” Fine.

After work, I follow her back to the townhouse. As I drive, I think about how pretty and sweet she is. She is everything I love in a woman physically. And she is self-confident around men (at least me anyway) and sexually sure of herself. She isn’t the least hesitant to let her needs be known nor ignorant on how to please the needs of others. She plays games, no doubt, but they are intelligent games and she’s very clever. I like the web she spins!

[watch for the black widow spider, Michael. she could be one! sucking out your blood!
yeah, well, you would know, author! and if she is sucking, I hope it ain’t blood!]

We embrace immediately after entering the door, barely waiting for it to close. 

“Michael,” she says, “make me laugh, make me hot, make me scream with pleasure! Just don’t make me fall for you, okay? I already feel that starting to happen!”

“And don’t break your heart?” I ask. She nods yes.

As I hold her, I look into her eyes. I laugh a little. “Sometimes, when someone wins a big jackpot in the lottery, I hear them say ‘No, no, this isn’t going to change my life!’ I always chuckle. I think, well, if 20 million dollars ain’t gonna change your life, why the fuck are you playing the game! 

“If you fall for me, Sherrie, as you put it, if you come to love me and that doesn’t change your life, then why the fuck are you playing this scene!?” Sherrie laughs. “Got any wine?” I ask.

“Fuck the wine. Let’s break out the bong!” Sherrie says.

We finish the reefer and we’re smokin’ stoned! “Come and follow me,” she purrs.

We take off our clothes, simply and quietly. The couch is comfy as hell! As I lie down, Sherrie lies down next to me. I am so taken by her that I sigh deeply as she lays cupped on my shoulder. She is so sweet and hot and subtle. This is all wrong—and all right! 

We begin to make love. I kneel on the floor. Not an inch of her goes untouched or unkissed. Her breasts are incredibly sensitive and she arches her back and legs as I lick and suck and blow on them! I lie on top of her and she digs her nails into my ass; her breaths quicken into panting. Sherrie then lies atop me and kisses me passionately and deeply while grinding her hips against mine. I completely enclose her with my arms and legs and squeeze, trying to push her passion farther into me. She kisses my neck and nibbles my ear. She moves down and sucks each of my nipples, kissing them and licking them.

Farther down, she kisses and licks me between my thighs. She spreads my legs a little. She inhales both my balls into her luscious, sexy mouth. She tongues them and bathes them with her spit. She releases them and sucks them in again, over and over. She is making love to my balls! She moves to my cock, holding it and just licking it. She looks at it, like she’s never seen one. When it twitches in her hand, she engulfs my hood and swirls her entire head around it. I don’t know if she’s acting, but she seems to be making love to my cock as well.

“Stop, Baby,” I ask quietly. She looks at me like I’m fuckin’ nuts! “You’ve brought me too close, and I have miles to go before I sleep!” I quietly laugh. 

“What does that mean, Michael? Don’t you want to cum in my mouth?” Sherrie asks.

“No,” I say. “I haven’t been inside you yet.” She nods, understanding. She straddles me, one leg on the couch, the other on the floor. Holding my cock in one hand, she lowers herself until it just touches her. She stops. She rubs her lips with my cockhead, moistening it with her honey. When I am slick, she thrusts down till I cannot possibly get any deeper. She rests that way, me so very deep, and she does a little grind on me. For minutes, she works her hips slowly forward and back, side to side. My cock touches every pore inside her. Her body is so lithe, so feline, as she stretches backward. She keeps leaning back, resting on her arms behind her. My cock stretches her inside. I prop myself on my elbows and look at all her beauty, taut but not tense, sensual but not sexual, pleasing and being pleased. We form a V. Her face glows. We each thrust our hips in a kiss of sensuality! We work together in a duet of the senses.

She rises up, leans forward, and lies on top of me again. She tenderly cups my head in her hands.

“I’ve never felt like this, Michael,” she whispers and looks into my eyes. “Never.” She pauses and asks, “Why?”

I hold her close to me. “You’ve never let yourself” is all I can say.

“I want to lie on my back on the floor,” she says. “I want to open my legs and have you inside me. I want to make love to you and for you to make more love to me until you cum. And then make love to me after that. I want this feeling to never leave me.”

She lies on the floor and I kneel between her legs. Her body is perfect, the moment is perfect. She raises and spreads her legs wide. I stretch over her and she guides my cock. I glide into her effortlessly. We both moan like it was the first time! This is not sex, though it is a sexual act. We transcend our bodies. As I move forward and back inside her, our sensual selves dance a soulful tango. It is effortless and intense sensuality. 

My orgasm is slow and lasts longer than just my semen leaving my body. It is so much more than an orgasm of flesh and I am still one with Sherrie. She knows I have cum, but the dance continues. My head is next to hers and we both breathe heavily and deeply. She lowers her legs.

I raise myself and kneel between her once again. I burn the image of her into my mind. I lower my head and kiss her mons lightly. She groans and covers her face with her hands. I never close my eyes as I kiss and lick and suck her. Every second becomes a frame of film in my memory. She pulls my head to her, and as I tongue her clitoris, her body heat rises hotter than I ever thought flesh could be.

Her breathing quickens and deepens. All I taste is love, savoring each drop. Her entire body becomes rigid, holds, and then shudders, what seems like for minutes. I am bathed in our mingled fluids.

“I want to taste us,” she whispers. I lap her deeply and hold us in my mouth. Now I lie atop her and she enfolds me in her arms. She smiles at me and brings my lips to hers. I open mine and her tongue swirls throughout my mouth. She sucks my tongue. 

“Love. This is the taste of love!” She looks at me. What is this expression, I ask myself. Not a smile or a grin. I have not seen this look in a woman’s face. It is a look I may have once seen in a painting. I wonder what look I have.

“You look a little shit-faced pleased with yourself, Michael!” she says. “You should! That was what a man making love should be!”

She kisses me all over my face and laughs. She clasps me to her.

“I hate you, Michael!” she says. “I told you not to make me fall for you, but you went ahead anyway. I will never, ever, ever forget this!” She kisses me again and laughs again. “What galaxy are you from, anyway?!”

“Phantasmagoria,” I say, laughing too. 

“No, this is real, not a dream or hallucination. I couldn’t have dreamed or fantasized this—stoned, drunk, or sober!” Sherrie says. “You won’t believe this, but an hour ago, I kinda liked this guy named Michael. I wanted him to fuck me! But he didn’t. He made love to me instead and now I love him. More deeply than I have ever felt about anyone or anything!”

Leaning on my elbows, both of my hands over her face, I reach my right hand to my left and remove the ring, laying it aside. Sherrie picks it up.

“I’ll keep it for you, Michael. But if you ever ask for it back, you’ll have to pry it from both my hands!”

[you’re following the story fine, Michael, but i’d look for the speed bumps ahead! just a friendly warning!
thanks, author. but you know what a stupid fuck you made me! I know there are speed bumps—that ain’t no help! but what do I do when I hit them?!]

I follow Sherrie to the hot tub. I, too, have taken her hook, line, and sinker. Go ahead, I think, fuckin’ break my heart. Just don’t do it right away. Later, maybe Sunday, wouldn’t be a bad time to die!

We enter the tub. My flesh is so hot that the water seems cold! I reach behind Sherrie, cup her breasts, and pull her to me. She reaches around and grabs my ass, pulling me to her. We kiss many times; they are quick loving kisses.

We dance in the water. We stumble and dunk each other. It is all another form of making love. I lay her back on my one arm. She is nearly weightless, floating. I skim her arms, breasts, and belly with my other hand. I move her to the chrome ladder, glistening with steam. She grabs it and I move between her legs, now resting on my shoulders. She is suspended before me. I make mouth-love to her. That is but the physical part. My entire body and being are at work as I kiss and lick and suck on her. Sherrie moans and thrashes in the water. Using her legs, she pulls my shoulders toward her to bring me deeper and more firmly into her, against her.

“Oh, God, Michael, yes! Yes!” she screams. “Take me there again!”

I am immersed in her, this Sherrie. I open her lips and see her bright red clit, sparkling with water and her wetness. I flick my tongue over it and she tenses, thrusts up. I do it again and her legs squeeze my head. I place my hands to cup her ass and pull her up toward me. My mouth engulfs her entirely and I suck. I want to suck this woman into me. 

Sherrie’s body relaxes. It is the moments between lightning and thunder. I back off. Then, I suck her once more and she shudders and screams and groans.

“Oh, Michael! Oh, Jesus!” she yells, over and over. Then she becomes completely limp and I move to hold her up in the water in my arms. Her entire body quakes, as though in a seizure. Her eyes remain closed for a while, and then she looks at me. She reaches one arm to my head and caresses my face with her hand. She looks aglow again.

“What’s today’s date?” she asks. I have to think.

“October 7,” I say. “Why?”

“Because 42 years, 3 months, and 5 days after I was born, I have had the most wonderful, hot, sexy, steamy, spiritual, happy experience of my life! And sex too!” She laughs. She takes herself out of my arms and stands before me.

“You are so special, Michael,” she says, then rests her head on my chest. 

The phone rings and Sherrie tenses in my arms.

“I’ve got to get that,” she says. The moment of making love is gone and the world returns like a heavy cloak. Fuck, I think! Here’s the speed bump!

She answers it and her entire body goes white. Must be ol’ Trav, I think. She walks into the kitchen so I cannot hear her words, but I can hear the rising and falling of her voice—from pleading to anger to defiance to sniffling. If I could reach through that phone, I’d fuckin’ strangle the fuck-shit on the other side!

I stand in the tub and rest my head on the edge, thinking it’s time to put the ring back on and chalk this up to “I told you so!” Just get quietly dressed, take the ring, and walk out, I say to myself. 

Sherrie kneels next to me at the edge of the tub, though I do not look at her. I’m ready for the “Dear Michael” talk.

“Shall we play ‘I’ve Got a Secret’?” I ask, perhaps a little too sarcastically.

Sherrie is sniffling and can’t control her tears. I get out of the tub, reach for a towel, and hand it to her. Her pain is deep and I must take some of it. I kneel beside her.

“It’s easy to be happy and in love when life is going good. It sucks when you hit a pothole and a tire goes flat in a second,” I say, touching her. “But the garden doesn’t grow just on the good times, Babe. It grows stronger and deeper from the bad and what two people do with it. Whaddya got for me, Sher?”

She holds my wrist and brings it to her face, helping to wipe away her tears. 

“That wasn’t Travis, like you might have thought,” she stutters. “He’s just a 28-year-old shit I use for dope and fucking and living with. There’s another, though, Michael. I have a female lover I’ve been involved with for a little while. Travis is such a ‘me’ person and I needed someone who understood me as a woman. Kayla’s her name. We’ve had sex but she’s really more a friend I need to talk to once in a while. That’s who was on the phone.

“I hadn’t been seeing her much lately. After you left last night, I called her and left a message, telling her I didn’t want to see her again.”

“Is that true, Sher? Or because of me?” I ask.

“Partly you. Mostly I just don’t like her scene. She’s a jealous bitch, too. She didn’t mind Travis cause she knew I never loved him.

“I’ve found my dream in you, the dream I couldn’t have ever dreamed but knew it to be true from the moment I first met you. Even when I was Todd. Now, the best day of my life—fucked by that bitch!”

Her head is now in my arms. I’m feeling like Dr. Ruth, Mr. Fucked-Over, or Monsieur Confused. Okay, all three.

“I told her my love of my life was but a few feet away, and she laughed! I despise her. She laughed like I can’t tell love from shit!” Sherrie pauses. “You are the love of my life, aren’t you Michael?”

“Sherrie, my sweet, you’re old enough to choose the road you go down,” I say. “You can’t break my heart, just yet. But you’re close.” I pause. “I don’t think you want me to make decisions for you. I’m ready to build on what we’ve got, or let go, if I have to. I’m not the author of this anyway! But I’ll respect whatever you decide. I’ll stand with you on that.”

[you’re finally getting it, Michael. good!
i think you’re putting words in my mouth, author! i’m just trying be play the good guy! everyone needs a good guy at least once in their lives, don’t they?]

“Baby, I need you now. She’s coming over and I’m going to tell her that she and I are through, whether you  stay or not. I want her to see me with you. I want her to see how you’ve changed me. And I so much need you to hold me.”

“Just don’t do this for me, Sherrie, that’s all I ask.” She hugs me, we stand, dress, and straighten the place a little.

Though I’m just part of the scenery for this, I’m really nervous. I’m in a townhouse where last night I had sex I never expected to ever happen. No regrets, just surprise. I spend a few hours today enjoying the most physical and spiritual sensuality of my life. And now I’m going to help the woman I’m falling in love with break up with her lesbian lover. Who’s writing this shit, anyway?

[i am! don’t insult your creator, Michael. I can click on ‘find and replace’ anytime, you know!
thanks, author! good to know i’m so fuckin’ indispensable! where’d you be without me?
oh, writing the denouement of ‘4 sons of guns’!]

The doorbell rings and Sherrie kisses me. “I really do love you,” she says and then opens the door. Kayla stands there defiantly. I immediately dislike her, though I hated her before I ever saw her. She’s actually a good-looking woman, though a bit butch. Shoes are to dykes what mousse is to queers! Sherrie lets her in, closes the door, and walks over to where I’m standing.

“Michael, this is Kayla,” she says, equally defiant. Can someone give me a clue what to do here? Thankfully, Kayla makes the move.

“You’re dumping me for this old fart?” she asks. “After all the love and care I’ve given you, you want this man to love? What the fuck for? What do you know about him? He’s got what he wanted from you! Bet you’re dumped and back at my door in 2 fuckin’ days!”

“He’s given me more in less that 24 hours than all the other men and women in my life have given me in 42 years, Kayla. Please don’t make this uglier!”

I stand behind Sherrie and embrace her waist. I look at Kayla, shooting knives, darts, bullets, and whatever ammo she can from her eyes.

“Do you love Sherrie, Kayla?” I ask. “Because if you do, your love should respect her and care that she is happy. Does she look happy?” I give Kayla a moment. “If you don’t love her, then look at her one last time. But either way, get the fuck out of here!” Did I just say that? Nicely done!

Sherrie turns her back on Kayla, puts her arms around my neck, and kisses me. We hear the door slam shut.

“I’ll never be the same, Michael. You have changed my entire life in a day! I love you so! Fuck winning 20 million compared to what I got!” she says. “Let’s go to bed!”

We undress, and just cuddler under the covers. Sherrie lays in my arms. Right now, I am emotionally and physically exhausted. I do not want sex. I want to nap!

“I know what you’re thinking, Michael!” Sherrie says sleepily. “You ain’t no fuckin’ old fart in my book! You’re my fountain of youth!” I smile. And we sleep.

Part 3 The House of Blues

When I wake, it is completely dark except for the red glow from the alarm clock. 7:17. Let’s see, it’s Saturday, October 7. This time yesterday, I was working in a department store. Two hours later, a cute guy named Todd blows me in a parking lot. Now, that same person, Sherrie, is laying asleep in my arms!

[you’ve left out most of the other wonderful experiences i’ve given you! how about some credit!
i know you, author! i’ve been in a couple of your stories! what you give you can easily take away! win a fuckin’ pulitzer and then I’ll give you credit!
easy, Michael!]

Sherrie stirs and takes a few moments to orient herself too. “Michael, you’re still here, aren’t you?” she asks in the dark.




Forty-Eight Hours in Heaven & Hell



I hug her to me. “Yes, babe! Do you think I would leave you while you slept?”

“No,” she says, hugging me back. “I wasn’t sure any of this really happened! But now that I know you’re here, I know it really did. Michael, I haven’t slept like that in…I can’t remember! You’ve made me feel absolutely magnificent! 

“I know two four-letter words ending in k that men both love and hate. They love the word fuck. They despise the word talk. But talk to me anyway!” Speed bump?!

“Can I throw Kayla out of the picture?” I ask.

“Fuck, please do! I already have!” Sherrie laughs.

“I am going to bring this up just once and never again. You don’t want to hear about it, but I need to say….” I reply.

“When I was married…we had plenty of great times, along with the bad. We were married 20 years. I never cheated on her. I thought we had a great relationship. But we grew too comfortable. A marriage, like a garden, is never finished; it always needs tending. I didn’t tend my part; I can’t judge whether she did her part or not.

“We were never sexually compatible. I wanted sex in the morning, she in the evening, then me in the evening and she in the morning. I wanted it on Monday, she wanted it on Saturday night. As we grew older, I just convinced myself that sex was overrated. I masturbated and would bring her to orgasm every once in a while, when she seemed to want it. We grew close in other ways, but the sex thing was always a bigger symptom than I thought. The short of it is she found a lesbian lover and lives with her to this day. She didn’t leave me, I don’t think, to get her rocks off with a woman. I just wasn’t giving her the other things she needed. I think you can relate to that.

“That’s just a foreword, Sher. I’ve learned I have to grow with the pain. Trees are strengthened by the hurricane, not the rainbow. Today was magnificent for me too. But what I felt went way beyond the physical or mental or emotional—oh, it was all those! But I felt freed of this world. If souls make love, then I now know how they feel. If there is sex in heaven, I just experienced it!”

“I hunger for you!” she replies. “I want to consume you into me. I want to be consumed!” Sherrie rises from bed and goes into the kitchen. She returns with some wine and candles. She pours us each a glass, lights the candles, and places them around the room. She sits in bed next to me. She clinks her glass to mine.

“A toast to my dream!” she says. “May I never wake from him!” She drinks and kisses me. I’m about to cry.

“A toast to my fellow gardener!” I reply. “May we grow many beautiful things together!” I kiss her and she does cry.

[i know what you’re thinking, Michael—that I wrote ‘women are from venus and men are from mars’! not true! just the way it has always been!
world without end, eh, author? amen.]

“Sher,” I say. “I’ve been in positions this past day that I’ve never been in in my life. My back’s killing me! Can you rub it a little, Babe?”

“Oh, Michael,” she laughs. “I give great massage! You don’t know I do that part-time. Right here! Let me set up and I’ll rub you to perfection!”

Sher gets out her table, warms towels and oil, and whatever else her trade requires. I’ve never had a massage. My ex used to get them all the time. The thought of having someone rub me for an hour was repulsive. Part of the old garden I didn’t tend, I guess.

I finish my wine and lie on my stomach on the table. Sher wears a short terry robe not tied very tight—sexy, revealing her breasts and barely covering her pretty behind. She puts some soothing ocean-sounds CD in the stereo and some oil in a burner. Is that patchouli, I smell? She rubs oil into her hands and begins at my shoulders. Oh, Lord, my muscles begin to melt. While Sherrie didn’t strike me as strong or athletic, she has developed her hand and forearm muscles! The tension leaves there. She moves to my lower back. She works the sacrum and either side of it. Bingo! I twitch.

“Sorry, Hon,” she says. “But no pain, no gain! I can feel you really tight there.”

She works me like Gould playing Bach on a Steinway. 

[do you really want to say that, author? how ‘bout jimi playing the anthem at woodstock?]

She plays all my keys, to the tiniest bones in my feet. As she works her way back up my legs, I tense my buttocks.

“Relax, Michael,” she says. “I’m a professional now, not that those aren’t the sweetest buns I’ve ever worked on!” God, I fuckin’ love her. I do!

Sherrie asks me to turn over. She moves to my head and begins at my temples, follows the contours of my nose, up my jawbone and to my ears, and then retraces her route. Several times.

She works her way over my chest. Her touch, which had been firm but gentle, becomes more erotic and provocative. She works my stomach. 

“Not bad abs,” she says, “for an old fart!” I lift her robe and spank her! She moves to my ankles and then works my calves and thighs. Her hands are slick and work inside my thighs. She’s rubbing harder now, massaging me with insistence.

“You know,” Sherrie says, “massaging a man’s groin is a no-no for a masseuse! Unless you go to one of those sleaze places on Mannheim Road. But, I have a special license from the State of Illinois that allows me to perform this vital function! You do want me to perform this vital function, don’t you, Michael?”

“Does this cost extra?” I ask.

“Oh, yeah, Baby!” she says. “It’ll cost you dinner and a dance!”

[i told you to follow the program and it would all work out, Michael! didn’t i?
thank you, author! thank you! is this really just gonna cost me dinner and a dance? that seems awfully cheap in one of your stories!
plots constantly change, Michael. you know that!]

She anoints her hands with more oil. She works me so fine! At first, she uses a tender touch, working her hands into my scrotum and gently massaging my balls. She works that extension of my erection behind my balls, all the way to my asshole. I lift my hips so she can more easily work me. She inserts two fingers and my cock swells further. Okay, lady, you like working my ass! I remember last night, you know!

She climbs up onto the table and removes her robe. In the candlelight, the flickers accentuate her breasts and nipples, her muscles, her sexuality. In complete and beautiful contrast to this afternoon, she becomes a sexual preying beast! She clasps my cock in both hands and massages it. She uses her thumbs to rub under it. She rubs it up and down, squeezing and milking it. Oil and precum mix into an intoxicating lubricant! My breaths become quick and heavy. I am at her brink!

“I want to watch you cum, Michael,” she says. “I’ve never seen a man cum. I want to watch you as I bring you to orgasm. I want to see you shoot your seed, to see me bring you to that moment!”

As she straddles my legs, I thrust like a wild mustang at a mare! She has brought sensations I could never imagine. She works her hands up and down me, and blows her sweet breath on my cock. Images—of her beauty, her thrusting cunt, Travis, my ex-wife, the pottery scene from ‘Ghost’, Walter Payton leaping into the end zone, Sosa’s hop when he knows he’s hit one—race through my brain. I am out of my mind! She has total control of me. I am literally and figuratively in her hands.

My first shot lands on my cheek, my second and third on my chest. After that, I gush my semen on my stomach. It happens fast; it happens slowly. Sherrie helps me cum, gliding her thumb up my shaft with each spurt.

“Sweet Jesus, Michael, you shot 3 feet!” Sherrie says. “You got some kinda cannon!” I think she is both awed and amused. She sips some wine and then lies atop me, sliding her skin over me, gliding on my cum. She cups my head in her hands and kisses my seed from my face. Consume me, Sherrie. You are bread. I am wine. This is communion.

“This day could and should go on forever,” Sherrie softly says, and then shouts, “but I am fucking hungry! Do you realize it’s 9 o’clock?”

I’ve been thinking about dinner since 7:17!

“Wanna order in?” I ask.

“No,” Sherrie says. “I want to go to a noisy place. With music. I want to be with lots of other people on this Saturday night. I want to light up a room with the glow you’ve lit in me. I want the world to see how you’ve made me feel!”

I hit the shower and scrub the oil and dried semen from me. I feel limp but invigorated. This day? The sex? The massage? All of it? I towel off and open the bathroom door. Sherrie stands before me as hot as I could ever imagine her. She is wearing a light-yellow miniskirt she couldn’t possibly sit down in without getting arrested! Her black knit top plunges low and cups her, squeezing and accenting her breasts. Her hair appears radiant and wild. Around her neck, she wears a thin gold chain looped through my ring She’s dressed for her man, I think, very beautiful, very sexy, with just the right hint of slut!

“Nice shoes,” I say, chuckling a bit, as I stare at her black patent 3-inch heels. “FMPs, right?”

I look at her again and I feel no age.

“Sherrie, I will walk with you on my arm any time, Baby!”

She giggles. “Take me to dinner, Beau!”

We go to the House of Blues on Dearborn. Just the place Sherrie wants, and I know it too. It has a certain downtown elegance, but is funk and hip. She’s as excited as a prom date. Men—young, middle, and old—give her double- or triple-looks, stealing glances past their wives or girls. We look for a table and are extremely lucky to find one on a Saturday night. We sit across each other and Sherrie looks just stupendous. What I want my garden to look like! We order drinks.

“Our first date!” she beams and we clink glasses.

“Never to be a last one,” I toast.

We eat and laugh and tell stupid jokes. She flirts with me, the waiter, the guys at the table next to us. She tells me about Bobby, her puppy love from grade school, who won a stuffed unicorn at a carnival and gave it to her. I tell her about being Kathy Ottorini’s Cinnamon Bear in high school. 

[author, i’m gonna puke!
oh, c’mon, Michael, you always said you wanted to be in a love story! this is much better than being the Sheriff in ’two bad sundowns in a row,’ isn’t it?
that’s where I got kicked in the head by a horse, right? man, that hurt! who’s gonna kick me senseless in this one?
plot will unfold, Michael, give me some time!]

“Just don’t ask me to dance to anything fast, like I would have to move my feet or something, Sher!” I plead. “Look at me—I’m a middle-aged white guy!” Another neglected part of the garden.

She is having such a good time, though, I don’t think she hears. During the live band’s break, I hear the start of ‘Unchained Melody.” This I can do! 

“Would the beautiful lady care to dance?” I ask, standing beside her. I take her hand and she rises like a feather in an canyon’s updraft.

Oh, my love
Oh my darling
I've hungered for your touch
A long and lonely time

I grasp Sherrie low on her waist and pull her to me. Our hips meet and we begin to rock and sway gently together. She clasps her hands behind my head. Ours is a simple rhythm of complicated people. Our foreheads and noses touch lightly. I am unaware of anything but Sherrie and the music!

And time goes by so slowly
And time can do so much
Are you still mine

I move my arms up her back and with my hands massage her shoulders. I move to rub her shoulder blades and push her breasts into me. Our hips never break their touch, and she lightly grinds hers into mine. Oh, God, she is my heaven!

I need your love
I need your love
God speed your love to me

She kisses my ear, my cheek. I work down her back and rest my hands on her hips. As I feel her grind into me, I kiss her neck and cheek. Her eyes are closed. I cannot not look at her. She has become my everything. She is lush with passion and femininity. Deep within, I feel her woman’s soul.

Lonely rivers flow
To the sea, to the sea
To the open arms of the sea

I kiss her with passion. Deeply. I pour myself. Into her. My arms reach down and cup her and pull her completely to me. My knees begin to buckle as she leans forward on me and then begin to shake as she pulls me to her. This is not a dance of feet.

Lonely rivers sigh
Wait for me, wait for me
I'll be coming home
Wait for me

We dance within many dimensions. She smells of oil and perfume. She tastes of high school and dorms. I feel broken loves and mended hearts in her spine. She smells of us, because I am in her. I have been want to fall in love with her and I finally have.

Oh, oh my love
Oh my darling
I've hungered for your touch
A long and lonely time

Sherrie’s head bends backward and I gaze at her neck. I kiss her there all over. Lightly. Then deeply. Consume her, Michael. I blow on her neck and exposed chest and watch her skin pucker. I feel her nipples through my shirt.

Lonely mountains gaze 
at the stars, at the stars, 
Waiting for the dawn of the day.
All alone, I gaze 
at the stars, at the stars, 
Dreaming of my love far away. 

Her hands are clasped behind my neck and she leans her body back, moving her pelvis completely against me. We sway in the musical breeze. I move my arms up her back and pull her toward me again. This time, there is no space between us. Why should there be any? 

And time goes by so slowly
And time can do so much
Are you still mine 

We move up and down against each other. Her hands glide up and down my back, to my behind and then my thighs, and return to my back. She kisses me. Sherrie’s being flows into me like electricity. I am her conductor. I am taken by her. Completely. Utterly.

I need your love 

Her body becomes completely rigid. She has become the body electric!

I need your love

She lays her head next to mine and clasps me tightly to her. “Oh!” she says, so surprised.

God speed your love to me

“Oh.” I feel her shudder, quaking like prey in a hunter’s hands. 

I suddenly have to catch her as she goes totally limp. I lift her back up and she opens her eyes. She looks like she has seen a ghost! She is crying. She shakes her head and looks at me.

“Michael!” she says. “Michael, I’ve just cum! In your arms. Dancing!”

Everybody else sits down but we continue to stand there. I have not let go of my embrace. Sherrie still is quaking. I try to tend her, but her mind seems far away. Her head is buried in my chest and I look over her shoulder. Through the smoke and conversation, beyond the woman in my arms, I see Travis and another guy walk through the door. 

“We should probably leave, Sherrie,” I say. She nods yes and begins to compose herself. I want to pay the bill quickly and get the fuck out. By the time I toss some cash on the table and turn around, I see I am too late. Travis and Sherrie face each other by the bar. Shit! 

[five seconds, author, couldn’t you have given me five fuckin’ seconds?!
i can kill you in less than that, Michael. i’ve killed characters in less than that. what are you going to do? this is more than a speed bump, I should think! a disaster in your garden, eh?]

As I hurry to Sher’s side, I can tell they are already exchanging words. I grab her arm and Travis sees me. They stop.

“Hey! Here’s my favorite cocksucker!” Travis says, too loudly. “Weren’t you sucking my knob about this time last night? Trying to swallow all the cum I was shooting down your pussy throat? And now you’re wining and dining my girl? Behind my fuckin’ back!” He looks at Sherrie. “Cunt slut!” and he raises his arm and starts toward her.

I slug him. I just fold my hand into a fist and slam it into the side of his jaw. I’m as dazed as he is, but I had to. I didn’t want a conversation with him, I didn’t want to argue or use my brain or be rational. Lights out, Trav. I uSher Sherrie to the door.

I give the ticket for my car to the valet. Sherrie leans against the building, sobbing uncontrollably, hands to her face. People look at her and then me. The doorman stands, not looking anywhere, but I can tell he thinks I’m the shit who made her this way—fucked her and then dumped her, or something. I’m ready to slug him too. “You don’t know shit!” I shout in his ear. I’m grateful the valet pulls up with my car.

He opens the passenger door and I lead Sherrie to it. She can barely get in on her own. I quickly get behind the wheel and peel rubber out of there. Sherrie is still crying; I think I may have broken a few bones in my hand. I speed south down Michigan Avenue, east on Balboa, and south on Lake Shore Drive. I know this land. I can’t take her to her place; I don’t want to drive to mine—just yet. I turn and head toward the Adler Planetarium, a point jutting out about a half-mile into Lake Michigan. I park, shut off the engine, and lay my head on the steering wheel.

I feel Sherrie touch my broken hand and I flinch. Her crying has subsided into sniffling. I hand her my handkerchief. She wipes her face and blows her nose. I look up and straight out. My town, my city—Chicago gleams with light, beauty, vibrancy, sensuality, sexuality. I love her! I also know that somewhere in her womb, people are being murdered, raped, and robbed. Some drunk husband is beating his helpless wife. Some dudes are dropping XTC into their dates’ drinks. Rats are gnawing at the homeless who just OD’d or whose livers finally gave out. 

What a fucking day!

Sherrie edges toward me and rests against my shoulder. I pray for some sense of grace and strength. I am clueless, once again. I try to speak and cannot.

“What he say?” I ask.

“Who?” Sherrie replies. I throw up my hands. This is useless. This ain’t gonna fuckin’ work!

“Travis!” I shout, way too loud.

“He called you an old fuck,” she says quietly. “He says this isn’t gonna go down quietly. He’s gonna fight for me. He wants me back. I told him to go fuck himself with a sax, if he wants something up his ass!” Good for you, Sherrie!

“Hold me.” Sherrie says. I put my arm, shaking with pain, around her. 

“Michael,” she says through her sniffles, “I’m sorry. From the whole Todd thing to Travis to your hand. It’s all my fault. I’m so very sorry.” I continue to gaze at the whitecaps, the Sears Tower, the Odyssey sailing by.”

“When I was young,” I say, “cars lined up here all nights of the year. We called it ‘watching the submarine races’ cause you’d pass the cars and not see anyone in them. That’s cause couples dove down on the seats, all cars had bench seats then, necking, fucking, copping a feel. Some cars would rock from the fucking going on. See that building there?” I point to the Prudential Building, 600 feet tall. “That was the tallest building in Chicago when I used to come here. Now it’s a dwarf! I got my first blow-job sitting in the driver’s seat a couple cars down this row. We were both taking classes at UIC. I thought I would never ever feel that good again!

“And I never really did…until today.”

My hand is turning numb and I bring Sherrie closer to me.

“Either everything happens for a reason, Baby, or nothing happens for a reason. I believe the first. If it were a combination, I think we’d all just go fucking nuts! God knows, there’s enough insanity to fill this fucking lake and the other four too.

“I had to wait 52 years, 2 months, and 9 days to meet you. I had to be forged and tempered on life’s anvil so I can be next to you tonight, whatever time it is, on October 7.”

I sigh, deeply, wearily, yet I am calm—and, somehow, happy. Sherrie reaches her head up and lightly kisses me.

“Time to wrap this up, Baby. Where to—old digs or new?” I ask.

“New,” she whispers. “New.”

[Note about Unchained Melody. Music by Alex North and lyrics by Hy Zaret. I could not find any copyright information and sincerely apologize for any unintentional infringement.]

Part 4: Dying to Hear Aerosmith




Forty-Eight Hours in Heaven & Hell



Sherrie sleeps against me. I pull in my driveway and park, not knowing what to do. I can’t carry her—my right hand and arm are swollen and tender. I rouse her enough to lead her through the front door and into the back bedroom, where she collapses on the bed. I undress her and cover her with a sheet.

I go to the kitchen and fill a basin with warm water. I return to the bedroom, grab a washcloth, and bathe her. She is dirty from her own tears and from Travis. She moans, I think in pleasure and comfort. She wakes momentarily and seems completely confused until she sees me.

“Where am I, Michael? Your house? Your bed?”

I nod yes.

“Was Travis here?” she asks. I tell her what happened and though she seems to understand, I believe she is too groggy to fully get it. I help her into some pajamas. As I cover her, she reaches up to me and pulls me down to her.

“I still have your ring, don’t I, Michael? Tell me I do!”

“Forever, Sherrie,” I tell her. “Sleep.”

I go to my dining room, pour myself half a glass of whiskey, and sit at the table. Bills, flyers, newspapers, and pictures of my grandchild litter it. Grandchild! What the fuck is a grandfather doing punching out some 28-year-old bastard-prick in a nightclub? What the fuck would I tell my daughter how I spent my Friday night—getting fucked by a bitch with a strap-on dildo and sucking jizz out of a guy’s cock! “Oh, Daddy! Sounds hot!” Shit!

I look at my daughter’s 3-month old daughter. What will she be doing 42 years and 5 days from her birth? Sleeping in the house of a man she doesn’t know but had great sex with then cumming while she danced with him? Why not? It fucking happens. Sure as shit happened to Sherrie!

[are you on the pity-pot again, Michael? you know I hate when a character of mine starts weeping in his whiskey. waste of good bourbon! i’ve put a wonderful person in your life. take advantage. drink up and go to sleep, for christ’s sake!
you’re right, author, just help me get some ice for my hand and get me to the sofa!]

The sun also rises. I’m not usually there to greet it, but I sleep fitfully with my throbbing hand and am awake at dawn. It’s a chilly, crispy Midwestern fall Sunday morning. I pray it is a day of rest.

I check on Sherrie and she is curled under the covers. The fetal position looks good. I’d like to join her. I’d suck my thumb till it got all wrinkly and white!

I make breakfast. Sherrie does not know, of course, but I am an excellent cook. I warm the oven and make crepes, fry bacon, squeeze oranges, brew coffee. As the last drops drip into the pot, Sherrie appears in the doorway. I am not surprised she looks like shit. I bet I lost my Brad Pitt good-looks overnight too!

“Good morning, Sherrie!” I try to say as cheerfully as possible. “Like some coffee?”

Well into her second cup, she begins to awaken. She looks at my hand. It’s a mess. At first, she has to think about why it looks that way, and then she remembers. She says I need a doctor but I remind her it’s Sunday. We eat mostly in silence but everything tastes good and we clean our plates.

“You didn’t sleep with me, did you?” she asks. “Where’d you sleep?”

“Sofa,” I say. “I needed to be alone for a bit,” I add. She nods.

“Come back to bed with me, Michael. I need to hold you.”

We lie together for a while, in silence. 

“I love you,” she says. “There is no shred of doubt in my mind that I love you.”

If I were writing this story, I would already have been asleep. I am so goddam tired and in pain. I don’t want sex; I want sleep! But I’m not the fucking author. Sherrie reaches her hand between my legs and cups my cock and balls. I feel my cock stir. Though I’ve never known a man who gave his penis a name, the rumor—spread mostly by women, I think—persists. But if true, this is why: It often has a mind of its own!

“Fuck me, Michael!” Sherrie begs. “Fuck me all over. Make me your slut-bitch!”

Well, maybe that’s what she is after all, I think. Stop trying to treat her like a woman, like a human, Michael. She asked for it. Go fuckin’ ahead! 

I grope her like a sophomore in high school. I bite her neck and move to her breasts. I bite and suck her nipples. She squeezes my cock over and over. I throw the covers off and rip off whatever clothing we have on. I push her back and spread her legs up and out. I look at her cunt and suck on it. I lick it and bite it. You wanna be a cunt, Sherrie? 

I place my shoulders to her legs and push forward. I’m hard as a fucking baseball bat and when she places it against her, I shove in. “Oh, God, yes,” she says. “Fuck me, Michael! Fuck me till I pass out.” And fuck her I do!

I’ve got her knees next to her ears and if I went any deeper, my cock would poke out her belly button. I twist and grind it into her and she begs for more.

“That’s it, Michael! Fuck my cunt! Fuck me like a slut!”

I turn her over on her hands and knees. I place my cock against her pussy and shove it in hard, my balls slapping up against her lips. A few more thrusts to get really lubed and I pull out, this time placing my cock against her asshole. I pop the head in and she yells. I shove it halfway in and she reaches back to feel my balls hanging while I start to fuck her ass.

“Sooooo good!” she pants. “God, your cock feels so hot and hard in my ass. Bang me, baby. Bang that ass!”

I am almost standing, trying to get deeper and deeper into her. She raises her ass as high as she can. She crawls to the edge so her legs and ass are on the bed while she props herself on the floor. I get off the bed, spread my legs really wide to straddle her, shove my cock in, and raise her by her thighs. It’s fucking like I’ve never fucked before—a pure ass fuck.

Sherrie’s moaning and whining and panting so hard I think she may hyperventilate. She moves back on the bed so her mouth is directly in front of my cock.

“Fuck my mouth, Michael. Just grab my head and shove your cock into my mouth. Then fuck it and cum down my throat!”

I place my fingers at the back of her head and hold it as she sucks me in.

“Don’t suck it!” I order her. “Just let me fuck your mouth! Just be a warm, wet hole to fuck!” I pump in and out of her. She groans each time it hits the back of her throat. She reaches with one hand and grabs my balls, pulling them, rubbing them, then letting them go so they slap against her chin. I look down and watch my cock fucking her face. I am so fucking hot, sweat streams from me. Her cheeks are sunken in from sucking me, her lips red from friction.

I spread my legs wide and pump her a few more times. Then I shoot my load into her. I think 10, 11 spurts of my jizz splash her throat, inside her cheeks. Some spills onto her chin and I wipe it up with my fingers.

“Eat it all, baby! It’s the fucking breakfast of fucking champions!” She licks my fingers, gives my cock one last suck, and falls back on the bed.

“I needed that, Michael! You’ve been too tender and sweet to me. I needed a dose of reality!”

I am ashamed. I have never treated a woman like a piece of meat to fuck, as I just did.

“You want a fucking dose of reality, Sherrie? Is that what you fucking want? Get in the fucking car and I’ll drive you back to Travis in a fucking second! There’s your fucking reality! He can treat you like fucking meat all you want! Isn’t that what’s he’s been doing?

“I wanted to be a little different—you know, a man who cares about you! Ever give a fuckin’ thought that might be good in your life? A man who can make love to you! A man who can make you cum while dancing! A man who can bathe you and make you breakfast! I let you make me ashamed of myself! You want reality or punishment? I’m not that common to give you either or both. Plenty of those fucks out there. Put on your skirt and heels, strut about, and go get yourself one! Three for a fucking dollar, if you want!”

Sherrie looks shit-scared. Her lips are quivering, her eyes are tearing. She has covered up her nakedness. I loom over her. I put my hand out.

“The ring, Sherrie.”

She really starts to quake. “No,” she says, “you can’t want it back!”

“I can get a cunt and fuck it when I want, if that’s what you want to be to me. I can fuck a cunt and not bother with making her a fucking breakfast and cleaning dishes! What did I tell you about the ring, Sherrie? Do you fucking remember?”

“No, Michael, please don’t ask me to do this!”

“I said I would take it off when somebody really wows me. Not when someone asks me to fuck her cunt and make me ashamed to do it! The ring, Sherrie.”

She sits up and moves to take off the chain, and then stops. She looks up me.

“Sometimes,” she stammers through her sobs, “when you tend your garden, Michael, don’t you come across a buried rock or stone. You hit it with your shovel and it comes back, jarring into your bones? What do you do then?”

I think, impatiently, what the fuck is she saying! 

“I get on my hands and knees. I move the dirt one way or another until I can pry it out. Then I toss it aside.”

“And then?”

“I go on tending the garden,” I say, defeated.

[ouch! she got me, author! real good! re-living history. don’t we ever learn, ever get it?]

I sit on the bed and lay my head on her chest. “I’m so sorry, Sherrie! Please, keep the ring! If you still want to. I’m a tired old fuck!”

“Oh, baby!” she laughs, holding me. “I’m a tired old fuck too. Let’s be tired old fucks together!”

“How about a drive!” I say. “It’s a glorious October day! And we need to get away from…”

“Reality?” Sherrie completes my sentence.

I smile, yes.

I manage to find a few things Sherrie can wear and we take off north to Wisconsin. I avoid I-94 and take the blue-line highways on the map, the ones that weave and curve through the Dairyland’s moraines. We get stuck behind tractors and wait at cow crossings, but we also get to see rolling pastures, corn cribs, white church steeples and the farmers and their families leaving them, heading home for pot roast and mashed potatoes. They’ll watch the Packers play the Vikings and sip cold beer. They’ll talk about winter wheat and birthing calves.

We have burgers at one of the thousand Dew Drop Inns in the state. Best meal I ever ate. And Sherrie and I are laughing again.

Back in the car, Sherrie looks through my CDs.

“You like Aerosmith? I love Aerosmith!” and she pops the CD in and cranks it up. 

We’re driving, windows open, Sherrie’s dancing, we’re rockin’ at the top of our lungs.

“Steer!” I tell Sherrie.

“What?”

“Take the wheel! I gotta jam!” I shout, as I break into my patented air guitar!

Love in an elevator
Livin' it up when I'm goin' down
Love in an elevator
Lovin' it up 'till I hit the ground

Air, in the air, honey one more one more one more one more
Love in an elevator
Livin' it up when I'm goin' down

I take the wheel the back. We harmonize.

“Love in an e-le-va-toooooooor! 

Livin’ it up when I’m goin’ doow-wow-wow-woooown!” Rock ‘n’ roll forever!!

We stop for ice cream and buy honey and cheese and sausage to take back. Sherrie picks out a stuffed brown bear.

“Is this the Cinnamon Bear?” she teases me. I buy it as a gift and give it to her. “CB II,” I kiss her as I once did. Before this morning.

It’s dark when we return. I get out my keys to unlock the door and notice it is ajar.

“Wait out here, Hon,” I say as I hand her the bags we’re carrying. I enter and flip on a light. In the corner’s shadow, arising out of a chair, stands Travis in a black leather jacket.

I slam the door behind me, hoping that Sherrie understands something’s wrong. Hope she’s got a working cell phone too.

“I seen a lot more of you, cocksucker, than I ever thought I would!” He smiles and looks like one of the shitheads in ‘Deliverance.’

“How’d you know where I live, Travis?” I ask. “Sherrie doesn’t even know.”

“You work for a place with a lousy HR department,” he says. “I’d bitch to them tomorrow about givin’ out personal information to any schmuck that calls!”

Fuckin’ assholes!

“What the fuck you want, Travis,” I ask in a tired voice, trying to stall him.

“Sherrie, Grandaddy!” he says. “I seen them pictures of your grandkid. This your daughter?” he asks, reaching for the photo of Kelly.

“I got a baseball bat right here by the door, Travis. Touch that picture and your head’s a Sammy Sosa home run.”

He laughs. “Touch that bat and you’re fuckin’ JFK’s head in Dallas.” He quickly reaches into his jacket and pulls out that .38 I always figured he had. He cocks it.

“Look, what do you fucking want? Sherrie ain’t here. You want her back? You think she wants to go back to you? All this was your fucking idea, wasn’t it? Send Sherrie out to find a guy you can blow? Find out if you like guys? You’re gonna shoot me over this horseshit?”

“You steal my girl. You fuck like bunnies all day in my house. You hit me last night, remember? Made me look like a fool in front of my friends!”

“Travis, you don’t need my fuckin’ help!” I hit the light and reach for the bat, swinging where I think he is. Aluminum against bone is an ugly sound.

“Fucker!” he yells in pain and begins firing wildly. I hear the shots and see the flashes from the muzzle, and then I only see the bursts from the muzzle. My body slams back to the wall and fire bursts somewhere in my gut. 

The door crashes open and two cops with flashlights light up the room. Travis fires a shot at them and tries to get to the back door. They bring him down. I sense one checking me and hear the other call for an ambulance. Somewhere in the dark I hear Sherrie, screaming in the blackness.

[stomach? I ask.
no, pancreas. it’s much faster. it will stop hurting soon, Michael. and then...
but why, author, can’t you write a fucking happy ending?
you lived happily ever after in ‘three moons over pincarus.’ remember?
sci-fi shit! who cares about living happily ever after in science-fiction? will I be in another story?
yes, I think so, Michael. I like the way you’re developing.
thanks for finally letting me be stevie tyler for a few seconds. I was rockin’! and what happens to Sherrie? will she be okay?
who knows? I certainly don’t! maybe she’ll be in another story.
but I won’t be able to see her then. can I see her now? help me say what I feel about her?
why not?]

Sherrie kneels next to me, beside herself. I cannot bear to leave her, but that is out of my control. I reach up with my good hand and touch her face. She grabs it and holds it to her.

“We didn’t get the time other people get, but we didn’t waste any either, did we, Baby?”

She laughs and sobs.

“Sweet Jesus, Michael. You can’t die! You just fucking can’t die! I won’t let it! I won’t fucking let it. Take me, God, instead! Don’t take Michael!”

“Smile for me, Sher.” And I see that she tries. 

time to go, Michael. time to go.

Command + s