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Butter on Cream

By: OnnaDare



Butter on Cream - Michael, a recently single, slightly bitter, handsome Asian man, decides to indulge himself with an anonymous fling with a White woman, which he has never experienced before, as a birthday treat to himself. Lisa, a somewhat pretty, recent single herself, willingly submits to the seduction by Michael as a way to reassure herself that she is still desirable to men, as her long-term lover has left her for another man. 

*

Michael pulled his pickup into a parking spot, turned off the air conditioner, and cut the engine. Stepping onto the sidewalk, the pavement shimmering in the early evening swelter that was Iowa, he checked his watch, again. "At least I'll have time for a beer," he thought as he caught his reflection in a darkened store window, and stopped to tuck his brand-new t-shirt into his khaki slacks. The reflection staring back was a tall, slim and toned Asian-American with a short, no-nonsense haircut, a slightly sarcastic smile,

and dark RayBan shades. If he looked nervous, and just a bit peeved, he hoped it didn't show. He'd never been on a blind date before. How'd he ever let his boss talk him into this? "She's the niece of our new client. She just moved here, and she doesn't know anyone... Come on, this client is important to us. And I promised... She's a lawyer, you know... And you seem to like brainy girls, like, you know, Grace..." and his voice trailed off.

Of course he liked brainy girls. Grace was a doctor. And Grace, he thought ruefully, left me for another doctor. Michael pushed open the gate of the outdoor terrace of Valentino's, the appointed meeting place, and sat down facing the street at an umbrella'ed table for two, grateful for the shade. And for the smiling waitress who offered a wine list. "I'll just have a beer, thanks," he smiled back, and soon the ice-cold brew was in his hand. After a few slugs, he surveyed the surroundings, scanning for the red-headed Ms. Allison Payne. He'd googled her, checked out her Facebook, texted out the details with her, and visited her firm's website, and had a pretty good idea, at least, of what she might be like. The inter-webs made it so much easier now to know what you might be getting into. He glanced at his watch again. 7:42. Hopefully, she wouldn't be late. He wanted to get this over with, and make an early exit. He finished off his beer, and waved the waitress over for another. "Damn, it's humid," he thought, and debated the wisdom of wearing a tight white t-shirt. Perhaps, he'd be able to keep the flop sweat to a minimum. Screwing the cap off the second beer, he noticed a girl emerging from the shop across the street holding a bucket and a squeegee. She was tall, with long blonde curls cascading to the middle of her back. She was wearing a pink, full-skirted sundress and flat, pink shoes. Her figure, as much as he could tell, was slender, lithe. Not too busty. Just nice. She proceeded to wash the shop's large front windows with long, graceful swoops. He studied her long, toned, arms and legs as she scrubbed and squeegee'd. "Not bad," he thought, pushing his sunglasses down to get a better view. "Not bad at all." She looked ethereal, sinuous, sexy. Like a ballet dancer.

Then, in his periphery, was a voice. "Michael? Michael Shaw?" Someone, a female someone, stepped into view. It was Ms. Allison Payne, Lawyer. And blind date.

"Hi, Allison, right?" Michael stood up, and offered his hand. Her handshake was remarkably wimpy for a lawyer, Michael thought nervously. He swallowed, thinking, "Here we go... might as well make the best of it..." He started with a smile, "Have a seat. Did you want a drink while we wait?"

Allison pulled up a chair opposite him and Michael waved the waitress over yet again. Ms. Allison Payne wanted an appletini, which the industrious waitress hurried off to get. And Allison started to chatter. And query. And chatter. She had never had a date with an "oriental", she just loved sushi, and the Chinese people had such a rich history, blah, blah, blah. He didn't bother to tell her he was born and raised in Wisconsin. And was only half Korean. The appletini was just making it all worse, but at least she wasn't blocking the view of the lovely ballerina window-washer across the street. Michael nodded and responded to Allison's many questions. "Jesus," he mused to himself, "Nooobody expects the Spanish Inquisition...If fact, those who do...God, I must be bored, I'm already quoting Python to myself... what is this, a fucking job interview?" But by then, he already knew that this evening was to be a complete bust.

But suddenly, it didn't matter. The ballerina window-washer had completed her task, and had disappeared into the shop. Allison and her annoying snobbish chatter and unintentional racism didn't matter. His rage over Grace and her new cardiologist husband, with custody of his son, no less, didn't matter. His relative inexperience and awkwardness with pretty white girls didn't matter. He'd never really dated, much less slept with, a white girl. Grace was 100% Korean, first generation, and had been the only woman he'd ever had sex with. They met when she was a freshman, he was a senior, and they were pretty much the only Asians at their small college. She got pregnant, and they got married, soon after. His college friends, white and black, boasted about their conquests, sleek sorority girls, party goddesses, blonde, blue-eyed and supremely sexual. He always fantasized about them, the haughty ivory toys he wouldn't, couldn't, didn't, ever have. It didn't matter. Even his loneliness, which he dulled with long hours at the gym and on the jobsite, didn't matter. Anymore. He'd made a decision. He was going to change all of this. Whatever it took, for once, he was going to be the one who saw what he wanted, took what he wanted, hit it, quit it, and walked away. This Asian man was going to get the white girl. He was going to get even.

After a mercifully short dinner and more unwitting condescension, he walked Allison to her car. She seemed receptive to more. He gave her a half-hearted hug and promised her he would call. He knew he wouldn't. Waving her away, he strode over to the dimly-lit window of the ballerina girls shop. And there it was, painted on the side window, in old-fashioned letters. Greene Jewelers. Specializing in Gold, Diamonds, and Porcelain. Goldsmith on Staff -- Repairs while you wait. Established 1980. We buy Gold and Estate Jewelry. Top Prices Paid. Lisa Greene, Proprietress. 555-2334. Website: greenejewelersiowa.com. Michael smiled. Things were going to change. His birthday was seven days away and he was already hatching a plan.

"Shit... it's morning...." Lisa rolled over and slapped her alarm clock to stop the angry buzzing. Rubbing her eyes and stretching, she padded into the bathroom to shower and jolt herself awake. Even though it would be fun to sleep in just once on a Saturday, she liked to work weekends. They were busy. And she liked to keep busy. It just made things easier. The steamy shower was waking her up, and she shampoo'ed and shaved her legs, thinking, "I'll wear some capris today. Be comfortable. And maybe clean the back room if it's not too busy." She let her soapy hand rub between her legs, stroking, maybe for a little longer than she needed to. But it felt good to want sex again, any sex at all, even her hand, and she hadn't felt anyone else's hands but hers on her neatly trimmed, tight pussy for a long, long time. Even though Garrett moved out in May, he hadn't touched her for months, almost a year, before then. Shutting off the shower, she wrapped herself in a towel and combed her dripping hair. The waves were already springing up. She loved her curls as much as Garrett hated them. She'd spent the better part of 6 years of mornings torturing her hair straight. The way he liked it. Pretty much the only "straight" thing he probably ever liked, she thought sarcastically. Well, she was free from him and she was free from the blow dryer and the flat iron. Good riddance, she smirked to the mirror. To both of them. To all of them.

She heard her cell's ringtone that signaled an incoming text, and picked it up. A text from Garrett, spelling, "Coming 2 pickup the last of my stuff -- r u working all day? Ill leave my key this time, k?" Lisa punched the buttons back. "Yup - theres boxes in the spare room and dont let sinatra out. ill b back at 8 or so"... There was a time when call or text from Garrett would have made her cry, or throw things, or feel sick with shame, but all she could feel now was relief. And utter apathy. " Just get your shit and then stay out of my house..." she sighed under her breath. Sinatra, her Siamese cat looked at her like she was crazy. "Maybe I am, Sinatra," she said, rubbing his head, "Maybe I am." She picked out a black bra, panties, black capri's and a black tank top. And some flip flops. It was going to be another hot, humid day, and she wanted to be comfortable. Besides, who cared what she looked like? The customers? "They're lucky I put on makeup..." she mused, twisted her damp curls into a messy bun, stuck some black chopsticks in it and grabbed her keys, throwing them in her bag. It was 8:45 already... and she didn't want to be late. Work made the time fly. And she needed it to. When it was quiet, when she had time to think, remember, that's when she felt the loneliness, the ache, the regret. It was much better to be busy.

Twisting the key in her shop's door, she pushed it open and reached for the alarm system, disarming it. Snapping on the lights, turning on the till, opening the safe, replacing the diamond pads into the cases, setting the till cash in the register, all the familiar routines. She loved the routines. She loved her shop, her brick and brass and glass sanctuary. Dad had opened it when she was a baby, and she couldn't remember when it didn't exist. She spent her childhood there, helping out, hanging out, napping after school behind the cases. And working. From 14 on, all through high school and even during breaks from college. She took goldsmithing and jewelry design classes to be able to help out, even though her major in college was Theatre and Costume design. When she and Garrett had graduated, with Master's, mind you, she was overjoyed when he got a job teaching Theatre Arts at her old high school. She could go back to her beloved home town, to her beloved shop, and her beloved parents, until she found work that used her degree. Which, in this town, if you weren't going to teach, seemed unlikely. But who cared about that, when she could assist everyone's favorite teacher Garrett with his productions at school. It was ideal. But then Dad died. Suddenly. Heart attack. And Mom semi-retired to Florida to live with her sister. She said she just couldn't deal with the weather anymore, but Lisa thought it was the memories she couldn't deal with. Mom still technically owned the shop -- but it was all Lisa's responsibility now. And so it went for 3 years, Lisa and her work, Garrett and his all-consuming teaching/directing career, and his supportive, new best friend Rick, the soccer coach. 

She should have seen it coming. When she met Garrett, he had just transferred from another, smaller college. They worked on some productions together, dated, had incredible sex and better coffee, moved in together, and experimented with drugs and scenes together just like good little Neo-Bohemian - Free -Spirited- Theatre Students did. When he proposed three-somes, complete with hunky, sexually-confused undergrads or androgenous goth girls, fueled with plenty of beer and ecstacy, she was down with that. Lisa would do anything he wanted. White, handsome, alternative, straight, and a Theatre Major? Everybody wanted him. And she had him. And she intended to hang on to him, even if it meant doing things she wouldn't have dreamed of doing when she fantasized about her perfect, lifelong partner. He told her she needed to "open", "liberal", and was so proud of her rejection of "bourgeoisie" morals. They didn't need marriage. They had each other. That's just what you did, trying on gender roles like they were vintage hats. When Lisa objected, he reassured her that she was the only woman he'd ever loved, and that it was, "We're partners in crime! Just you and me. Only Bi 'til we kiss college good-bye!" He didn't want to miss a thing, not one crazy thing, while they still could get away with it.

"There's no such thing as Bi," Lisa sighed inwardly, while dusting the crystal display. She winced at the memory of her own dalliances, "Just greedy... desperate, or gay in denial..." When her Dad had the heart attack, Garrett stopped smoking, began to exercise and watch his diet. "Good for him," Lisa thought. And the new soccer coach, Rick, was right there, helping him every step of the way. And soon, he was there, at their house, every day. Garrett started spending even more time "working", and "working out". He lost his pallor, his taste for drinking, and his thin, "rock star" physique, buffed out, and even quit begging Lisa's help on the school's productions. Lisa made excuses at first, "He's tired, he's overworked, he's training for a marathon, he's finally got a good het male buddy..." But then she came home early one slow Friday in May with a headache and found the two of them in bed. Her Bed. Garrett told her then. "I'm gay. Not Bi. I'm coming out. And I'm moving in with Rick." And that was that. She became, in that instant, an ex-wife. The one all her old friends from high school whispered about. It must be all her fault, right? The one who must have turned that wonderful, handsome, committed, caring teacher gay. All this, without ever being married. And six years wasted.

But Lisa had good memories, too, and when the shop was slow, when she was cleaning just for cleaning's sake, polishing the polished, she remembered the sex. Good god, it was insane, wasn't it? And she missed it, missed it all, but mostly missed the rough touch of a man, Garrett, any man, all the men who had wanted her, had her, every inch of her, and weren't afraid to treat her like a pretty fuck-toy. Someone who would take her, hard, throw her up against a wall and kiss her like there was no tomorrow, with no repeat, no second act. Like Garrett in the beginning, or the wasted, wild-eyed boys that they recruited for their sexual romps. No expectations, no baggage, no inhibitions, and no names. They told her she was the best, that she was beautiful. Who would argue with that? "But that's in the past." Her inner voice would scold, "That'll never happen again. You're damaged goods. You're older now. You partied too much. And everyone you know, and quite a few who don't, know that your man left you for... another... man. You know what everyone is thinking about you...there's something wrong with you. You made him go gay..."

But the day was sunny, the shop busy. Lisa had no time for idle sex fantasies or recriminations as she sold a modest wedding set, replaced 3 watch batteries, sized a ring, sold a few small pieces of gold jewelry, sold and wrapped crystal and porcelain gifts, answered the numerous phone calls, and made cheerful small talk with the steady stream of customers. The clocks in the clock section were all chiming merrily 7:00, and with the growling of her stomach in time with the chiming, Lisa realized she hadn't eaten yet. She grabbed her phone and dialed the number by heart. Valentino's. "Trudy," she recognized the voice on the other end immediately. "It's me. Got a table for me at 8, or are you booked solid?" Trudy assured her that she'd find her a spot, if she might not mind eating at the employee's table. "Like that matters. See ya.". She'd been eating at Valentino's since they opened when she was 10. Thank God she felt like eating again. She patted her rumbling, taut midsection, shrunk from weeks of appetite-less stress and rage, "Be still, my pet, less than an hour to go..."

One hour to go. Or so. Lisa wanted to fill the time with a project, and with a wedding party assembling at the church kitty-corner down the block, it was always fun to go out and wash the windows and watch the wedding. But she'd done that last week, and the windows were still spotless. So off to the front displays to re-arrange. "Perhaps a back-to school theme? I suppose it's not too early..." she thought as she gathered some of the inexpensive pieces to fill the window. She sat in the broad, front shelf and fiddled with the display and watched the wedding party take photos. And soon, it was time to close.

Lisa followed the regular routine, taking down the diamonds, putting them in the safe, ringing out the till, running the charge card reading, and counting out the day's deposit, to be put in the safe until Monday. She was just removing the last of the window display diamonds to be put in the safe, when she heard the door chime. 

A customer. Hurrying to stash the last displays, she glanced over to see who it was. Usually, this time of the day, it was a last-minute gift purchase for the weddings, by someone who had forgotten or procrastinated. That was why the shop stayed open until 8:00. Somebody always forgot. Between bending into the safe, tucking things away, Lisa looked up and scanned the shop. A Guy. Tall and slim, with a dark tan. And he looked dressed for a wedding, with black slacks, loafers, and a black t-shirt and shades.

Lisa, half in the safe, called over to him with her standard greeting at this time of the day. "You're just looking? Or can I help you with something? Did you need a wedding gift?...We offer free gift-wrapping. The crystal section is to your right." She gestured towards it. 

"Well, no, I had a question," the voice answered, and Lisa shoved the last of the displays into the safe and turned around. He started, half-smiling, half-smirking, his eyes hidden by his dark shades, "Umm, I was reading your sign, outside, and I want to... Sell Gold And Estate Jewelry For Top Prices Paid...are you... interested?" 

Lisa studied him as he spoke. He removed his sunglasses, revealing his ethnicity. Asian. He was exotically handsome. Tall, confident, almost cocky, golden skin, his body toned and lean. She took in his sharp, defined cheekbones, his thick black hair, his sly, crooked half-smile, and his mischevious, dark almond eyes.

"Is he being serious?" Lisa thought, and answered with her favorite standard answer. "Just...depends..." She smiled back, cocking an eyebrow and meeting his gaze. "What have you got?" 

He retrieved a small black box from his front pocket and placed it on the till counter in front of her. A Benedetto's Jewelers box. "Uh oh," Lisa thought, " Here we go...somebody overpaid...Shit..." 

He slid in towards her, saying somewhat sarcastically, "I sure you'll be impressed. I know I am." 

"Well, that's good," Lisa replied, with mock seriousness, her eyes locked on his, "I'm glad somebody is..." 

Snapping open the box, Lisa knew instantly what it was. A Bennedetto's Forever Band. 12 grams of platinum, with a top-quality ¼ carat diamond, bezel set. Retail $3250.00. Worth? About $800.00, tops. 

Lisa thought to herself, oh so slyly, "Selling our wedding band, are we? We must be single. Not so forever, eh?" 

He surveyed her with interested eyes, watching her watching him. Did he see a spark? Michael cocked his eyebrow, thinking, "She seems into it enough... Good...good sign." 

Lisa studied the ring perfunctorily under her jeweler's loupe, but she was already familiar with this ring. She'd bought about 15 of them in the last 5 years. Lisa started her well rehearsed patter, designed to soft-peddle the fact that she was about to tell somebody that they paid about 4 times what that item was worth. And that their marriage was really over. You never knew if they'd be angry, or like that one time when that guy started crying. Women's tears she could deal with. She had before, many times. Men's tears, not so much. But this one didn't seem at all upset. 


Butter on Cream



He stared her, up and down, smiling that crooked, sexy smile, and didn't seem to be that interested. In the ring, at least. Lisa's eyes met his staring eyes and she glanced away quickly. She hadn't noticed anyone looking at her "that way" for a long, long, time.

"If I didn't know better...shit... I swear I'm being "cruised", Lisa thought slyly. "What the fuck?"

"So, how much do I get? That's all I want to know," He shrugged, "I was just going to throw it out the window of my truck into the river on my way over, but I thought, what the hell. It's money. Might as well." His eyes were teasing, his smile, wicked. 

Lisa, relieved, giggled a bit. "Oh, this is going to be easy..." she grinned, and offered him, "How about $800.00? That would be $300.00 for scrap platinum, going rate, and $500.00 for the diamond. It really is good quality... Does that sound fair to you?" 

"Not at all." He responded, dryly. "May I make a counter offer?"

"Sure, but if you want proof of platinum scrap value, and diamond wholesales, I can show you some websites...," Lisa added, nodding. 

"No, that's not necessary. I believe you." Michael was still smiling that rakish crooked smile, still staring at her round green eyes, widening with... nervousness? Impatience? Interest? "I'll take $500.00, not a penny more. But, there's just one thing. You'll have to do me a favor. And I won't take no for an answer."

"Depends... on the favor." Lisa smiled back. He was a world-class flirt. She hadn't seen this much swagger since this side of a gay bar on two-fer night. Lisa leaned forward and teased him with her voice, "You tell me... then I'll tell you." 

Michael swiveled his head towards the door. "Dinner. Valentino's. Tonight. You and me. You gotta be hungry, right?" He whispered conspiratorially, his eyes darting, "Come on...All the cool kids are doing it..." 

"What?...Dinner?" You're kidding, right? That's it?" Lisa laughed, briefly debated her options, dinner alone or with this mysterious Asian hottie, and decided. "The hell. Alright... You drive a hard bargain... Mr.?... I didn't get your name. At any rate, I need to see your I.D. to write you the check. Shall we shake on the deal?" 

His voice was soft, sexy, almost purring, "It's Shaw. Michael Shaw." 

Lisa stuck her hand out, "I'm Lisa Greene, if you didn't already know. Nice to meet you, Michael."

His handshake was firm, warm, and his hands were rough from work. Lisa loved that. A real mans handshake. Lisa then took his license and started filling out her paperwork. Michael turned his back while she filled out the forms and wrote out the check, making a very silly, complimentary running commentary on the shop, informing her of her luck in doing business with him, and how honored she should be to accompany him to dinner, "Because, Lisa Greene, Proprietress, I'm just that damn good."

"Thank you, you're so sweet." Lisa replied, teasing, to his back, "You're just being nice to me because I'm giving you money." 

"Uh, Duh. Women want me, and they're prepared to pay," He deadpanned, and did a little celebratory fist pump, which Lisa didn't see. The plan was working. He'd done his homework. He was on his way.

Lisa checked his I.D. Michael Shaw D.O.B. 7- 14 -- 75. Height 6'1. Weight 185. "Not bad, not bad... Umm, that's what? 34?", she did the math quickly in her head, "Hey," she said, handing him back his license and the neatly-written check, "It's your birthday. Happy birthday."

"Happy birthday to me, indeed," Michael tucked the check and I.D. into his wallet without even glancing at them, his dark, mysterious eyes never leaving hers. "Are you ready to go?...It's eight...almost. You can leave early. I won't tell."

"If you don't mind, I've got to lock up and set alarms and things, so you'll have to wait outside for a minute, okay?"

Lisa walked Michael to the door and turned the lock behind him, snapping off the lights as she went back to the safe, slamming the door. "I'll just duck into the bathroom for a sec," she thought as she pulled the chopsticks from her hair and ran her fingers through it. She splashed some water on her face, and hurriedly re-applied some makeup. Was this for real? Did she really just agree to go to dinner with the most cock-sure male she'd met since that director of the touring company of "Rent" in '06? He'd swept her, and Garrett, off both their proverbial feet. "You had a threesome with him the first night you met him...didn't you?" Her inner voice chided her, "You know this guy's a player, too, don't you?" Lisa was intrigued, to say the least, by his exotic, sleek Asian looks and lean, toned body, and his wicked, sexy, smirk. "I wonder if what everyone whispers about asian men is true?" she mused, and turning to check her reflection she wished she'd worn something prettier, like the dress she wore to work last Saturday. Or maybe that she just was... prettier. Period. "He couldn't possibly be interested in me...really...he must of just gotten stood up or something...Or could he? Oh, well," her inner voice said, "Don't flatter yourself. He probably does this sort of thing all the time, I mean, he's quite the flirt. He probably thinks I'll be so impressed that I'll sleep with him, too." And, she thought back, smirking, "And he might just be right..."

Michael waited in the hot, slanting sunshine for Lisa to emerge. "So far, so good," he congratulated himself, thinking of her wide, sparkling eyes, her small, smiling pink mouth, her messy golden curls and her smooth, light skin. He imagined taking down her hair, his hands knotted in those yellow curls, her lips opening up to his, her long legs wrapping around him, and how she would taste. He imagined it would be warm, sweet, like cherry candy. Lisa emerged from the shop, turning the key in the lock. Michael turned to her and offered Lisa his arm. His arm in hers felt solid, right. They stepped across the street, Michael opening the outdoor terrace gate for her. 

"We might not get a table," Lisa said, "They're pretty busy tonight. I know this for a fact."

"I don't think that's going to be a problem," Michael said with a wink as he pushed open the door for her. "After you..." 

The ever-busy Trudy spotted Lisa as she walked through the door and waved her over. "Hey Babe! Oh my gawd - we're so swamped! No time to talk, you know where to go..." she gestured in the direction of the kitchen, "I'll be by to say hey when I can!" 

"Umm, Trudes..." Lisa signaled to Trudy by jerking her head and darting her eyes towards Michael, "I'm here with a... friend..." 

Michael stepped forward to the reception desk and smiled his sunniest smile at Trudy. "Shaw, party of 2? I've got reservations for 8 o'clock, sweetie? Right there," He said, as he pointed to the reservation book. 

Trudy's eyebrows flew up, surprised, and she mouthed to Lisa, "Whaa...?," much to Michael's amusement. He picked Valentino's because he knew she would feel safe here, relaxed. He wanted her to be comfortable. He wanted her trust. Trudy grabbed some menus and led the way to one of the best tables in the house, already set with champagne. Lisa slid into the booth seat, and Michael sat opposite her, his back to Trudy as she sat down the menus and informed them about the night's specials, all the while pantomiming her surprise with her eyes to Lisa.

As she leaned in to fill the champagne glasses, she whispered in Lisa's ear "Who's the mystery man? He's hot! You been holding out, girl!" Lisa stifled a giggle, and whispered back, "Text me. Later, ok?" As she backed away, she gave Lisa a big "thumbs up", and hurried off to tell all the girls at the waitress station. 

Sipping the champagne, Lisa leaned in towards Michael. "Better to get this out of the way as soon as possible," she thought, and with a flirty smile, she started. "Okay, inquiring minds want to know. Tell me about the ring, or why you don't need it anymore. I know you're dying to share." 

"You want the 15 second version or the 15 minute version?," Michael smirked back, his eyes locked on hers.

"I'll take the 15 second version, and if that's interesting, we'll see..." Lisa shot back with a grin, "We'll see..." 

Michael downed the glass with a gulp, refilled it, and started. " I'm divorced. My ex, who is an anesthesiologist, left me for a cardiac surgeon after I put her through med school. And got custody of our son, and also "forgot" to tell me about taking him to Disneyworld, so I didn't know he wasn't going to be able to be with me for my birthday. Until yesterday... Did I make it in 15?"

Lisa studied him as he spoke. He didn't seem too upset, more joking than anything. 

Michael kept his gaze on Lisa, watching her expression, and mentally undressing her. 

He refilled her glass and said, "15 seconds. Your turn. It can't possibly be more pathetic than mine." 

"Oh yes, it can..." Lisa winced, and started, "I might as well be honest, because in this town, everybody knows already. Your wife left you for another man? I can top that. My ex left me for another man, too! How 'bout them apples?" 

Michael, sipping his champagne, almost did a spit-take. "Nuh huh," he laughed, "You've got to be kidding. Okay, you got me. I'll quit feeling sorry for myself now. Besides, a couple more bottles of this," he waved his glass, "We'll both forget about... Who... were we talking about?"

"I propose a toast," Lisa giggled, "To new friends. And happy birthdays. And fuck 'em if they can't take a joke." Michael and Lisa clinked glasses. Michael's eyes gazed on Lisa's, cocky, seductive, almost issuing a challenge.

"Indeed", he said softly, sexily. "Fuck 'em, indeed." 

The dinners were ordered, the wine, red for him, white for her, was uncorked, and the conversation flowed as fun and fast as the wine. Lisa soon found out he was a construction supervisor for an architectural firm that was currently rehabbing old warehouses by the riverfront to loft condominiums. That he'd been married for 12 years, and his son, Jake, was 12. And that he'd studied architecture, loved woodworking, Monty Python and the Milwaukee Brewers. And that they'd moved here from Wisconsin when his ex got her residency here. And decided to stay after the divorce so he could stay close to his son. Soon they were tipsily trading Monty Python quotes, laughing and joking, heavily flirting. The wine and the rush of the new fueled Lisa's libido. She wanted him. This dark, mysterious, seductive stranger with the serene, sexy smirk. She wanted him to kiss her, hard, and take her home. She longed to feel his hands on her, inside her. It was so great to feel that way, again. She needed to feel that way, again. Michael was touching her, often, catching her hand, dabbing her face with his napkin, feeding her bites of his food, and brushing away the stray curls from her cheek. He liked touching her. He planned to do a lot of it. 

He stood and stretched, and slid into the booth seat next to her, turning towards her. Lisa reached up to touch his cheek, sparks flowing between them, her fingers sliding over his lips. Lisa thought wickedly, "It's go time..." and whispered, "Did I wish you a proper happy birthday yet? A birthday kiss?" she offered, their eyes locking, "Did you want one?" 

"Don't mind if I do," Michael murmured, his lips meeting hers. Her mouth opened slightly from the soft, urgent, pressure of his lips. His tongue brushed her bottom lip, and slid cautiously, softly, inside, meeting hers. His mouth was warm, spicy, his tongue silky, insistent. The kiss was long, deep, sweetened with longing and lust. Lisa loved the masterful way he kissed her. Her. Their eyes opening as they kissed, Lisa marveling in turn at his mysterious almond-ebony eyes, darkened with lust, Michael by her round, innocent light green eyes, wide with desire. They broke the kiss, guiltily, checking to see if anyone was watching. Michael breathed into Lisa's neck, "I'm paying the check. Let's go." Lisa nodded, her eyes bright. She wanted to go. With him. To his home. To his bed.

Outside, in the softly darkening twilight, they wrapped their arms around each other and began kissing deeply, hotly, electricity flowing between them. His hands stroked her hair and slid down her back to urge her to him. She could feel his arousal as it pressed against her, and her hands roamed his back, sliding down to cup his firm, muscled ass, moving him closer, closer. His mouth left hers to kiss her neck, and he breathed in her ear, "I'm taking you home, okay? I don't want this to end. I just want to be with you."

Lisa looked into his eyes, glazed with lust, and her lips brushed his cheek. 

Lisa thought wildly, "When are you going to have a chance at someone like this again? So what if it's only one night..." and answered, "I'd love to." 

Michael smiled his wicked, sexy smile again, and crushed her to him in a hug, "Happy birthday to me!" he whispered to her. Yes, he thought, A very happy birthday. To him.

"I'll drive...There's my pickup." Michael pointed to the shiny 4-wheel drive across the street. "It's not very far. Only a few blocks...It's one of those new loft condos on River Street I was telling you about." After Michael's wife left him, his boss suggested that he move into one of the model lofts of the condo development that the firm was currently working on. He could be close to the jobsite, and be there after hours to answer any questions that potential buyers would have. Hopping into the pickup, Michael pulled Lisa to him, wrapping his arm around her, holding her tight through the short drive down the busy, sparkling, downtown streets. Lisa admired the old, sturdy, building, solid brick and glass, as Michael pulled into the underground parking garage.

"Very nice, good curb appeal...I approve..." She remarked. "I can't wait to see your loft." 

"And I can't wait to see you in it," Michael smiled. So close, he thought, so close, just a few flights of stairs, and I'm there. His cock thickened at the thought, the delicious anticipation of what he was going to do to her when he had her alone. He was going to take her, worship her white body, every way he could, fuck her, make love to her, make her moan, make her beg for his dusky pole, make her come as he thrust his darkness into her. He wanted to feel what a tight, white pussy felt like, tasted like. So close...

Michael turned the key of the loft and threw open the door. "Welcome. It's nice, no?" he said to Lisa, "What do you think?" Michael took off his shoes and started to pull off his socks, throwing them as he walked and talked, pointing out the architectural details. Lisa took in the 14 foot ceilings, the huge windows, the worn, lovely, original wood floors and exposed brick.

"It's really nice, wow, even a fireplace. I'm impressed!" Lisa sighed, "Totally." 

"It's gas," Michael said, picked up a remote, and started the fire instantly. "Make yourself at home. There's beer or soda or water in the fridge. The remotes for the TV are on the coffee table," He peeled his shirt over his head, revealing a toned, hairless chest, a permanent tan and six-pack abs, grinned, and threw it at Lisa. "I'm taking a shower. If you want to join me..." his voice trailed after him as he disappeared down a hall. 

Lisa, hearing the water splashing as Michael showered, walked around the loft slowly, taking in the lovely view of the city lights through the floor-to ceiling windows, "Am I really here?" she thought, somewhat naughtily, "In the loft of a guy who I just met 3 hours ago? A gorgeous... Asian guy?" Lisa felt her body glow, her libido rising, as she thought about his kisses, the way he held her, caressed her, the look of his dark golden body, toned and sleek, like a jungle cat. And that he was showering for her, right now, nude and hard, 20 feet away from her. He wanted her. And she wanted him. "Even if it's only for tonight," She thought, and then Lisa decided, as she dug out a bottle of water from the fridge, if she was nothing but a pick-up, a one-night-stand, she was going to leave him with a one-night-stand this mysterious Asian playboy would never forget. She'd use every trick she'd ever learned, every wanton move Garrett and all their fuck-buddies had taught her. And they taught her well. She might never see him again, and she might only be one of many, but she would make sure he would never forget this particular white girl. Lisa had always fantasized about Asian men, with their dark, golden skin and exotic, tilted, eyes, but had never had the chance to bed any before. She might be one of many to him, but to her, he was an exotic taboo that she needed to break. He was going to be her first, her first Asian, first man, her first real man, for what seemed like forever, for years. Her long dry spell was over. 

Lisa picked up the big screen TV remote and clicked it on. It was tuned to a classic rock music channel, Led Zepplin, or something like that, slow and sexy, bluesy, psychedelia. Lisa, still standing, began swaying to the throbbing beat, the wailing guitar chords. The music, the wine, the electric anticipation, flowed through her as she moved sensuously to the beat. She loved to dance. Spinning slowly around, her arms stretching over her head, her hips moving like a belly dancer's, she closed her eyes. "Mmmm...magical fuck music..." She mused, "Oh, the things I'm going to do to him..." Opening her eyes, she smiled, as she turned to see Michael, wearing nothing but a pair of old, worn, faded jeans, his hair wet and shining, watching her with that seductive smirk. His eyes met hers, his nostrils flaring, as his surveyed her suggestive, sexual dancing. He was breathing deeply, his chest heaving slightly. Lisa danced over to him, tossing her hair, beckoning him close.

He reached for her, and Lisa, taking his hand, danced around him like he was a stripper's pole, rubbing up and down, teasing him with her eyes and hips, stroking his hair, letting her fingers trail down his toned, sinewy arms and chest. He pulled her close, unable to resist the impromptu lapdance any longer, his hands knotting in her long curls as his mouth met hers, hard. His tongue was forceful in her mouth, probing, his hands holding her face to his. Lisa broke the kiss, her lips throbbing, her mouth wet from his, her lips nuzzling, then, licking his neck. He smelled so good, so clean, lightly musky, like soap and spice. "Michael..." she started, her eyes teasing, "Do you want me? I want you. I want to please you... Let me..."

Michael's eyes, heavy, tilted, bedroom eyes, gazed down at hers. "Oh baby..." he spoke softly, "Pretty baby..." 

Lisa shook his hands from her hair, her wide eyes locked on his, "I'm going to show you just how much I want you, how fucking hot you are, how much you make me..."

Lisa's lips began to trail down his neck, licking and rubbing, nuzzling, stopping at the hollow of his collarbone, down to his firm, hairless, chest, her hands stroking his pecs, sliding over his small, brown, oval nipple. It stiffened at her touch, and Lisa bent her head down to take the other in her mouth, her tongue darting against it softly. Michael threw his head back, a small moan escaping from his lips involuntarily, He'd never felt a woman's mouth on his nipples before, and he liked it. His obvious pleasure spurred Lisa on to suck it into her mouth, her tongue swirling over his stiffening tip. Her hand applied more pressure to the other nipple, sliding it between her fingers until it was erect.

His hands, stroking her back, her hair, crushed her mouth to his chest tightly as he ground his hips into her. She could feel his hard cock through his jeans, grinding, involuntarily thrusting against her. She wrapped her free arm around his waist to steady herself as she continued to lick and suck his dark oval nipples, turning from one to another, her eyes open and gazing up at his face, which was glowing with pleasure.




Butter on Cream



Lisa dropped to her knees, her hands sliding down his back, pressing his flat stomach to her face as she painted a wet trail down to the waistband of his jeans with her tongue, stopping to swirl his belly-button and penetrate it, oh-so softly. His hard, muscled abs contracted as her fingers slipped into his waistband, stroking the sparse, dark hairs that began to thicken as she tugged at the top of his jeans. She kissed the hard denim-clad mound with an open mouth, rubbing and teasing him, her hands cupping his ass, urging him to her. "Button fly... Mmm, so sexy good..." Lisa thought as she began to undo the buttons, her lips assisting as his jeans slipped down to reveal his black, thick, wiry thatch and the base of his cock, dark and firm. She kissed it, softly, her mouth opening. Michael, his knees buckling, grabbed Lisa by both arms and lifted her to her feet in one swift move, wrapping his arms around her, his hands cradling her head, his lips on her neck. 

He murmured, his face buried in her neck, "I need to sit down..." and moved them both to the couch nearby, pulling her on top of him, his legs opening to nestle her between them, his hands urging her hips to his, his mouth on hers, his tongue penetrating her, thick and hard. Lisa, turning her mouth from his, slid down his body, wanting to control his lust, his pleasure, determined to savor her exotic golden prize. His fingers were stroking her cheek, slipping inside her mouth, touching her tongue as she undid the last buttons and, gripping the sides of the warm soft denim jeans, pulled them down, freeing his hard, dark, cock, well-shaped and circumcised. It was dusky, throbbing, begging for release. "Mmm, you're so hard," Lisa whispered, her fingers stroking the shaft lightly. "Do you want me to taste it?" Lisa's stared into his face, his eyes heavy with desire, watching him. His breathing was deep, and small sweet groans escaped from his lips.

"You're so dark ... Your cock looks so sweet, I want to lick you..." Lisa breathed. Her lips, pink and wet, opened, taking the throbbing head into her mouth. She relished the clean, metallic taste of his dusky Asian cock as she took it deeper, deeper into her mouth, her tongue swirling up and down his firm shaft. 

She opened her eyes to see him writhing, tossing his head back, his almond eyes shut tightly, his hands on the back of her head, gripping her hair, urging her on. Lisa quickened her pace, sucking hard now, her mouth sliding up and down, pulling away from the throbbing, slick head, and re-descending, penetrating her lips, feeling him slipping deep into her mouth. Her mouth watered, his enjoyment stoking her own arousal. She wanted to take all of him, all the way down, feel his thick, wiry pubic hair pressed against her face. She felt her throat opening, taking every inch of his dusky, dark pole. Lisa could feel his muscles contracting, thrusting, as his shaft slid down her throat. She could hear his soft moans quicken and deepen to groans of intense lust and pleasure. Her mouth dripped as she gripped his hips, urging him as deep as possible, fucking him with her mouth and throat, losing herself in his pleasure. She wanted him to come, to fill her mouth with his hot seed, feel his spasms of joy and lust, for her, for her pink, wet sucking mouth. Pulling away briefly to catch her breath, Lisa's eyes searched Michael's face. His eyes shut, his lips parted, his tongue moving slightly to match her thrusting against him, Lisa knew. He was close. So close. "Babe..." She teased, her voice low and sexy, "You havin' fun?"

Michael nodded, his eyes still closed, "Uhh Huhh... Mmmm...oh god, yessss...''

"You gonna come?" Lisa breathed, "You wanna come in my mouth? My little pink mouth?"

His moans answered for her as she took his cock into her again, sliding up and down the shaft, urgently now, sucking hard. She felt his orgasm from way down inside him, contracting, exploding in her throat as he writhed, moaning, his hands tight on her head, his hands knotting her curls as he pressed himself into her deeper, holding her down, down on his cock, the involuntary spasms of her throat on his dusky shaft only prolonging, deepening, strengthening, his climax. His orgasm seemed to last for minutes and Lisa pulled off slowly, panting, her lips feeling bruised, her mouth hot and slick. He liked the way she looked, with his dark cock in her mouth, her yellow curls wild and messy, her round eyes wide, her light skin flushed, her small pink pout wet and shiny. Michael pulled her to him, his mouth on her throbbing lips, his tongue moving into her, thick and hard.

Lisa turned her mouth away, resting on his cheek, whispering into his ear, "Do you like how you taste? I think you taste amazing..." 

Michael laughed, pressing her close, his hands sliding briefly between her legs, past her breasts, and then back to her face, "Amazing doesn't even come close...that was...that was... beyond amazing...You're fucking amazing... God, that was so hot... I'm going to ...show you just how fucking hot you make me..."

Lisa's fingers lightly stroked his cock. "Hey, you're still hard," she marveled.

Michael, kissing her forehead, whispered back, "I'm just getting started. Let's go to bed." He sat up, hiking up his jeans, and pulled Lisa to him, his hands firm on her small, round ass, his fingers softly sliding between her legs, teasing her. She wasn't just going to get away with a quick, albeit, mind-blowing oral session. He had plans. This blonde, green-eyed birthday gift was going to unwrapped, slowly savored, and enjoyed. Again and again and again. Lisa stretched, leaning away from Michael, and adjusted her clothes. She felt uncomfortably wet, incredibly aroused, slightly sweaty from her worshipping of his dark cock. His hands on her were exquisite torture. She wanted him, inside her, his fingers, his tongue, his velvet-over-steel shaft. But she wanted to be clean for him, fresh and new. "Hey." Lisa caught his gaze, biting her lip, "Do you mind if I hit the shower, too? I'd like to be clean for you. I...got a little worked up, if you know what I mean..." 

"Not at all," Michael rose from the couch, taking her hand, "Come on, I'll show you..." He led her down the hall, turning on the lights. "Everything you need should be on the counter... and when you're done, I'll be waiting for you. My room's across the hall." Michael blew her a kiss, licking his lips, smiling that sexy, crooked smile. "Don't be long." He kissed her hand, shutting the door behind her.

Lisa chuckled a little, shaking her head, as she swore she heard him whistling "Happy Birthday to Me" as she turned on the shower. "I'm the gift," she thought wryly, "That just keeps on giving, aren't I?"

Lisa quickly stripped off her damp clothes and underwear, grabbing a disposable razor and some soap from the basket on the counter, and stepped into the large, tiled shower. Lisa soaped and scrubbed, reliving the last few minutes as she spread the lather over her breasts, between her legs. Her fingers found her clit, and she stroked it for a bit, thinking of his moans, his hardness, the look of his dark golden skin, his sweet musky smell, his perfectly formed dusky cock. Lisa touched up her legs and pussy lips with the razor. She'd worn a full brazilian, topped with a tiny, trimmed triangle for years. She loved the feel of her smooth, nude, pussy, and most of the men, and quite a few of the women, really seemed to like it bare. After inserting a couple of soapy fingers inside her, and a quick rinse, Lisa stepped from the shower, wrapping a towel around her. "No need to re-dress, I guess..." she thought, stopping at the mirror to dab her mascara, which had smeared a bit, lost in her pleasuring of him. Her damp hair was wild and curly, and with her slightly smeared eye makeup, her lips full and her wet, shiny skin, she looked sultry, sexual. Full of wine and the giddy intoxication that only a brand-new sexual partner inspired. She was ready. So ready.

Lisa crossed the hall towards the bedroom. Exposed brick, dark wood, and a large bed dressed with black. The room was lit with some candles, and the glow of a big screen TV. Michael, nude, was laying on his stomach, drinking a beer, flipping channels, deciding on which music channel would be best, settling on an ambient chill-type techno music station. Michael, buzzing, thought, "I need a soft, sexy, good beat...Shit, I'm wasted... Hurry up and just pick something...before she gets done." 

Lisa stepped into the room and couldn't take her eyes off his firm, muscled, body and ass, all the same shade of perma-tan. "Hi," Lisa said, smiling slyly, "Nice room. It's got a great view."

"The blinds are... closed," Michael deadpanned, "But yeah, the view just got a lot better for me, too. Come here, girl..." 

Lisa stepped to the edge of the bed. Michael swung his legs to sitting, straddling her, his hands embracing, caressing, touching, as she stood looking down at him. His body was sinewy, toned, cut, nearly hairless but for his calves, his forearms and his dark pubic thatch. Lisa admired the shadowed, rounded muscles and prominent veins in his arms and legs, every bit of him dark, warm. Even his face was nearly beardless, just a hint, on his upper lip and chin, golden, taut. "Good god, he's gorgeous..." Lisa thought hungrily. "Every inch of him..." 

Michael reached up, taking the towel edges in his hands, purring, "Time to unwrap my present." He pulled it off slowly, and tossed it aside. Lisa was standing before him, between his legs, Michael taking in her glowing face, her lightly tan, creamy skin, her rounded breasts, her blonde, wild, hair, and her small light brown pubic triangle. Reaching up, his dark hands slid to cup her breasts, pressing them into her chest, stroking firmly, then lightly, relishing the contrast between his hands and her skin. Lisa's eyes shut dreamily as he caressed her, tossing her head backwards, her soft blonde curls sweeping her back, silky and sensuous in the candlelight. Michael stood to kiss her, crushing her to him, his mouth opening hers. 

He was in control. Turning her around, he guided her onto the bed, softly laying her down on her side. Michael, still standing, surveyed his ivory prize, naked, rolling and rubbing and arching her back against the silky, black sheets.

Her arms were over her head, stretching gracefully, and her legs were bending prettily, sliding, slightly spreading. "Mmm, your bed is very comfortable... I like it..." Lisa purred. "It's so nice and soft...Are you joining me?" 

Michael slid onto the bed, propped up by his elbow, slightly smiling, and biting his lip. "Is this how it goes when people do this sort of thing?" he wondered, and started, hesitantly, "Lisa, baby, umm, it's probably time to ask . Do you want me to use a condom or what?"

Lisa looked into his mysterious, serenely lustful face, his eyes, filled with want, those exotic dark tilted eyes, and replied, softly, "I'm on the pill. Scout's honor. And I can tell you're free... of...I mean, I got a pretty good look at you already. If you're wondering about me, I'm STD free. Promise."

Michael threw his arms around her and kissed Lisa on the cheek. "I'm not worried. You look fine to me. Better than fine." It was better than fine. The lovely blonde stranger he was laying next to in his bed wanted him, with no inhibitions, no barriers. He was going to get to fuck her bareback.

Spooning her, his erection nestling between her firm, pale, ass cheeks, Michael's hands began to explore her, up and down, sliding from her breasts, over her stomach, his fingers sliding between her legs, opening them. His fingers slid past her lightly curled triangle and over her smooth pussy lips, his mouth nuzzling the back of her neck, burying his nose in her wild blonde curls. His sharp intake of breath registered surprise when his fingers met the bare skin.

"Mmm, you shave...that feels so nice and hot... Let me look at you..." Michael, sitting up, caught Lisa's shoulders, holding her on her back, "Spread your legs. I want see you. All of you."

Lisa's eyes opened, watching Michael's face as she raised her knees and spread her legs. His breathing deepened, his mouth opened slightly, his tongue touching his upper lip. She looked good enough to eat, her labia light pink, flushed with lust, the wet slit a darker shade of pink, her clit pink and firm, already engorging with desire. Lisa could see the way he appreciated her slick, naked, pussy. Michael's hands were on her knees in an instant, prying them apart, farther, farther, and he dipped his head down to meet her silky bare lips with his searching mouth.

His tongue reached out to paint her labia, her inner lips, with his wet, hot, tongue, dipping into her slit. His tongue stiffened as he thrust in into her, tasting her. Lightly tart, "Like lemon tea," he thought, "Fucking delicious." Lisa felt the waves of raw pleasure flood her. She hadn't felt a man's tongue on her for so long, she'd almost forgotten how wonderful it was. Her fingers stroked his hair as he continued to nuzzle and probe with his lips and tongue. He found her clit, hard now, and flicked his tongue over it, sending her into spasms of ecstasy. She gripped Michael's head, urging him to her, harder, faster. His eyes were open, watching her, the way she was arching her back, writhing, thrusting against him, her rounded breasts rising with her deep breathing. She was moaning now, her mouth open, wet, forming little kisses to the air.

"Lisa, babe, you enjoying yourself?... Look at me..." He wanted her to open her eyes, watch him, this golden Asian man she had just met, and seduced her, watch him as he gave her the ultimate pleasure, broke another taboo. 

"What do you want?" Michael continued to swirl her clit, stabbing her wet slit with his tongue. "You want me to keep going? Do... you want... are you going... to come for me?"

Lisa opened her eyes, her libido spiking at the sight of him on her, his yellow on her white, his butter on her cream. "Yesss... keep going... suck me...ohhh god, suck me..." Lisa groaned, urging him on, "Suck me ... oh fuck... oh god... I'm...I'm...gonna...keep going, baby..."

Lisa moaned, as the waves of pleasure were building, hard and fast. Michael ground his face against her, sucking her clit, hard. Lisa's orgasm came quickly, strong, crashing over her, hot and wet, spasms so intense they were almost painful. She jerked Michael's head off her soaking pussy and pulled him up to her. He lay on her, his weight heavy and comforting as her climax ebbed away. She kissed his mouth deeply, tasting her juices on his lips, his tongue. Michael rolled off her onto his back, slowly, rubbing his jaw. It felt good to satisfy her. She wanted him, did what he wanted, what he told her to, and she

responded to him, totally, wantonly. He wanted her, wanted to worship her smooth, white body, wanted her to be satisfied by him. His cock was beginning to stir, to throb, to want inside her wet, bare slit. He'd give her a minute to catch her breath. "And then I'll take it away again," He thought, smiling to himself. "How totally fucking hot was that? She'll do anything I want... I think I'll make her beg for it..."

Lisa stretched out, feeling flushed and warm, floating, like waking from a wonderful wet dream. Michael watched her as she purred and stretched, her breathing deep, her eyes heavy. Sitting, Michael turned his attention to Lisa's breasts, heaving slightly as she breathed, her eyes still dreamily closed. He stroked them lightly, brushing the tips of his fingers against her nipples, still hardened from her orgasm. Bending over slightly, he took one into his mouth, pressing his tongue against it, licking the stiff bud, swirling lightly. Lisa's arms wrapped around him and stroked his muscled, sinewy back, rousing to his touch. "Mmmm... that was so good.... You're so fucking hot...that was so fucking hot....," she murmured. "So fucking hot..."

Michael cupped her breasts, squeezing, switching his mouth and tongue from one to the other, darting his tongue from nipple to nipple. They were firm, rounded, just the size of his hand. Gripping them, pressing them flat to her chest, her body looked so slim, so tight, so utterly fuckable. He loved her pale, smooth tits, white triangles standing out

against her lightly tanned, but still pale smooth skin. His hands slid down, over her slightly rounded belly, stroking the hollows of her hipbones as she lay on her back, rubbing and arching against the black sheets, his fingers tracing the tan line on her lower abs. His hand slid down to her sex, parting the lips, sliding first one, then two fingers inside. He started to thrust, slowly, softly, teasing her. Michael whispered, "How does this feel?... Does it feel good?... Do you like me inside you?" 

Lisa's soft moans answered him as her eyes, gazing into his, widened with pleasure, while he continued to thrust and explore her. His fingers were filling her, sliding in and out of her newly slick pussy, still throbbing from her climax, deeply arousing her again. She reached for his dusky cock, wrapping her hand around it, and began to stroke it from the base to the smooth, plum-colored head. A small drop of pre-cum glistened from the small dark slit, shiny and clear, wetting the tip. Lisa sat up, leaning in to taste the small drop, lightly probing the tiny slit with her tongue. "Mmm, you're so hard," she breathed, "So hot and hard..."

"I'm hard for you, baby," Michael whispered back, "How 'bout you?... What do you want me to do to you now? You want me to fuck you?" 

Lisa smiled as she whispered back, "I want...I want..." 

"Want what?" Michael said slyly, his lips reaching in to kiss her deeply, "What do you want? Tell me..." 

Lisa, burning with desire, her pussy wet and hot from his probing, thrusting fingers, whispered back, their lips touching as she spoke. "I want your cock... Inside me... I want you to... fuck me..."

Michael pulled away a bit, his gaze steady on her dreamy, flushed face, and murmured, with mock seriousness, "You forgot the magic word. You want what, now? Tell me, and say...Please..."

Lisa smiled, her round eyes now heavy with desire, locked on his dark, sparkling and mischievous eyes, and spoke softly, "I want you to fuck me... Please."

Michael pushed her legs apart with his as he slid on top of her, his hands reaching for her wrists, pulling her arms over her head, pinning her. He gazed down at her as she squirmed deliciously under him, her mound pressing against him as he went to his knees, positioning himself. He pushed his throbbing cock to her, sliding the head between the soft, slick folds. 

Michael whispered, "Look down... Tell me what you see..."

Lisa stared down at his dusky pole, watching the purplish head rub against her, sliding up to stroke her clit, teasing, rubbing, and whispered back, her eyes round, "I see your cock... your fucking cock..." Arching against him, her hips making little thrusts, she dared him to enter her.

"Tell me...when did you first want me... when did you want me inside you?" He was teasing her with his voice, prolonging his anticipation, her exquisite torment. His slick cock- head probed her, gently, lightly entering her, her moans soft and low.

Lisa, her breathing deep, murmured back, "While you were waiting outside for me...I...wondered...I thought about..."

"Thought about me? Thought about me fucking you? Do you know I'm gonna... fuck you... now?" Michael purred, watching her writhe against him.

"Yesss... oh god...yes..." Lisa groaned, grinding her hips, "I know..."

"Did you know I wanted to fuck you since the moment I first laid eyes on you?" He breathed. "Did you?"

Lisa's softly moaned, "Nooo..." as she pressed towards him, her legs sliding up to grip him with her knees, grinding him, trying to press him into her smooth, wet pussy. 




Butter on Cream



There was one more thing he had to say to her, this wanton white goddess, before he took her. He wanted her to know she was breaking the ultimate taboo. With him. Now.

"Do you know I'm Asian?"

"Oh goddd...yesss... fuck me... fuck me..." Lisa cried, her eyes wide and wild, her legs thrashing as she fought against his hands, rough around her wrists. Michael's dark shaft drove into Lisa, penetrating her with one quick, deep thrust, his domination of her now complete. Thrusting deeply, he released her wrists, his hands sliding down to lift her hips to him as he ground into her, hard and fast. Lisa reached her arms to him, her legs moving with him, stroking his muscled, straining, back, his pumping ass, urging him on. She hadn't felt so deeply, utterly, desired for so long. All the feelings she'd thought she'd forgotten came flooding back to her, he felt so good, so right. This exotic stranger was taking her, hard, with no regard for her now, no regard for her pleasure. He saw her, he wanted her, he took her. Lisa was his fuck-toy, his little white plaything, and her own open submission to him wildly excited her. She gazed up at him, his eyes shut tightly, his mouth open and panting, as he thrust into her, lost in his own lust, his movements deep, rapid and strong. 

Michael, feeling the powerful rush of his mastery of her, fought back the urge for release. "Not so fast...It's too fast...I want this to last..." he thought wildly, fighting back the overwhelming sensations that flooded his entire body. He slowed his thrusts, reveling in the feel of her hot, slick pussy, fully opened to him. Pulling out, his hands left her hips and went to her face, stroking her cheek, her eyes opening to his. Smiling, Lisa murmured thickly, "How you doin'? You enjoying yourself?" Michael let out a soft, breathy groan. He was enjoying himself, immensely, but there was one more thing we wanted to experience, one more thing he was going to ask her to do before he would be sated. 

"Flip over," he commanded, "On your stomach." 

Lisa obeyed, rolling to bury her face in his pillow, her arms stretching gracefully, cat-like, as arched her back, her knees tucking up under her. Michael's hands went to the small of her back as lifted her hips into the air, onto all fours as he poised to enter her from behind. He took in her rounded, heart-shaped ass and blonde curls spread across her back as he penetrated her anew, hitting bottom with one swift stroke. He loved taking her from behind, his eyes fixed on the white triangle that covered her bare ass, her golden curls whipping back and forth as he fucked her, hard and fast. Lisa's breath escaped from her in time to his thrusts, as she moaned, "Unhh...uhnn...uhnn..." 

Michael's hands caught her wrists, covering her back with his chest, spreading himself over her as her drove in to her deeper, faster, feeling the delicious friction. He wanted her to explode with him, match his release with hers, feel her spasms of ecstasy as he flooded her with his semen, feel her spent and throbbing beneath him. His hand, locked around her wrist, lifted her hand to her soaking, throbbing pussy, "Play with yourself...play with yourself while I fuck you..." He whispered in her ear, "Come with me...I know you want to..."

Lisa groaned loudly at the wanton request, her fingers finding her hard clit. She stroked herself, expertly, hard and fast, sliding her fingers down to touch his slippery cock as he pounded into her. He was close, so close to orgasm now, losing himself in the waves of his pleasure as he groaned, "Ahh fuck...yesss... Fuck...yesss... Ahnghhh..."

Lisa, spurred on by his impending climax, increased the rapid pace of her masturbation, her fingers whirling on her own hard bud, marveling at the twin sensations of his throbbing cock inside her and her own hand on her own, hard, stiff, clit. She felt her own climax wash over her, her pussy spasming uncontrollably as he continued to pound into her, finally able to let go of his lust. Michael thrust deeply, his orgasm building, his eyes staring at his dark shaft as it disappeared into her, grinding against her cervix, his groin pressed against her throbbing pussy and ass-cheeks as he felt his hot seed racing through his cock-veins. 

"Ahhh... god...Fuck...Yessss....." he moaned loudly as he exploded into her. The waves of lust and pleasure spilled over him as he continued to thrust her softly, slower, slower. Michael, relaxed and glowing, pushed Lisa down and laid over her, feeling her warmth, her deep, soft, breathing, his face buried in her blonde curls, damp with sweat. He felt himself slip from her soaking wet slit, his cock thick on her thigh. Michael pushed himself off her and gathered Lisa into his arms, embracing her and kissing her mouth, her cheeks, her closed eyes. "Mmmm...that was nice..." She whispered sleepily, "Hold me..."

Lisa, completely spent, droopy, murmured, "You're wonderful...that was wonderful...", and closing her eyes, drifted off to sleep. Michael released his embrace, and watched her as she rolled to her side, fast asleep. He marveled at her, her nude, lithe, firm, ivory body that she had given so willingly, so completely, to him. He continued to gaze on her, drinking in her wanton nakedness while he extinguished the candles and turned off the TV. He was satisfied. He'd done it. His birthday triumph was now complete. 

Michael laid down, his hands behind his head, his mind reeling from drink and sex, suddenly sleepy, certainly sated. He pulled the sheet over them, covering her, curled into a fetal position, deeply sleeping now. Michael, rolling and stretching, shut his eyes. "Remember...You're waking her up early and getting her out of here..." He made a mental note, "No breakfast, no stupid small talk, just call her a cab..." Michael drifted off to sleep, thinking, "Besides, when she sees what I left her, she'll know..."

A small, bright sliver of light filtered through the blinds, snapping Lisa awake. Her head felt thick, her mouth dry, as she felt a hazy waking moment of panic. She? Was in a strange bed? Oh shit. Lisa sat up, her bleary eyes taking in the scene. Michael, softly snoring, his face buried in a pillow, golden and nude, the messy bed, the half-burned candles... "Last night was real..." Lisa slid her feet to the floor swiftly and tip-toed to the bathroom. She hastily slipped on her capri's, and pulled her tank top over her head with one smooth motion. Gathering up her bra and panties in her hand, her inner voice was blaring a warning, "Get out... Now... Before he wakes up...Get gone..." Lisa padded silently to the living room, stuffing her underwear into her bag, swiftly checking to see if her keys and cell phone were still where she left them. She crept towards the door, picking up her sandals while she turned the front door handle slowly, pulling it open. "Thank god, no creaking..." She thought, her heart pounding, as she softly shut the door behind her. Lisa checked the hall. "No witnesses. Good to go..." 

She decided to take the stairs, stopping to slip on her flip-flops as the fire door snapped shut behind her. Breathing a sigh of relief, Lisa exited the stairs and fled the lobby. No one had seen her. No one needed to know, but Lisa. She was victorious.

Stepping onto the street, the morning bright, already hot and humid, Lisa blinked against the sunshine. "It's only a few blocks...this way?" she thought, and turned in the direction of her shop, her safe sanctuary, where her car was. She needed to get home, to think, to revel in her newly awakened libido. It was back. With a vengeance. Lisa felt breathless as she rounded a corner. She was walking fast, too fast in the heat, with her head pounding, still a little woozy. 

"Ok, you're out of sight now... you can rest ...," she thought, slowing her pace. The hot sun felt good on her body, stiff and sore from last night's activities, and she stopped to stretch, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Good god, I'm thirsty..." she mused, licking her dry lips, "I could use some coffee..."

Lisa started walking, crossing the block over to a little coffee shop that was down a couple of streets. She hoped, prayed, they'd be open this early on a Sunday. 

"It isn't that early," Lisa thought, "Shit, it's already after nine..." as she glanced up at their clock through the door. They were open, and Lisa pushed open the door to the sweet aroma of coffee. Lisa caught her reflection in a mirror by the door as she entered, thinking, "Yipes...you look tough...let's take it to go...." She stepped to the counter, watching the waitress as she cut pieces from a cake and placed them in the old-fashioned, rotating glass display case next to the till. 

"What'll ya' have, honey?" the waitress trilled, setting down her knife.

"I'll have a coffee...Black...to go...Ok?" Lisa said, smiling, looking at the rotating display, "That cake looks yummy...What kind is it?" 

"It's white cake with buttercream frosting, just made, for today. We've got a gal that makes 'em for us...They're the best in town, I swear..." the waitress smiled back. "The best...."

"Buttercream on white...Umm...I'll take it...Can I have it to go, too?" Lisa smiled and thought, wickedly, "Isn't that what they call an Asian guy on a white girl? How... deliciously...ironic..."

"That'll be $4.59. with tax, hun," the waitress said as she passed the styrofoam cup and the paper-wrapped cake to Lisa and held out her hand for the money. Lisa pulled a five dollar bill from the pocket of her pants and told the waitress, "Keep the change... Thanks!" 

She stepped back out onto the street, back into the bright, warm day. Sipping the coffee, popping sweet, sticky bits of cake and frosting into her mouth as she walked, her head began to clear, her step lighten. The memories of last night came back to her in a rush, the wine, the conversation, the wild, passionate sex. "Last night was great, wasn't it?" she mused, "Totally worth it...Totally." She spotted her block now, nearly there. Swaggering, just a bit, Lisa stopped to polish off the last bit of sweet, sticky cake, licking the frosting from her fingertips, lost in the delicious memory of last night, "Butter on cream...Indeed," she smirked to herself, " They call it...Butter on cream..."

Michael woke to the brightening day outside his blinds and threw his arm over to the other side of the bed, feeling for her. "Hey," he said sleepily, "Wake up..." Not finding her, her side of the bed ice-cold, Michael sat up. "Hey," he called, "You here?"

There was no answer. Michael swung his feet to the floor and quickly padded into the living room. Her bag was gone. She was gone. He suddenly thought of the check, the one he'd returned to her. Last night, while she was in the shower, before they made love, he'd stuck it back in her purse, drunkenly, as a going-away present. He thought she'd be flattered, pleased at his generosity, "Isn't that how it goes with girls like that?" 

That's what he'd thought last night.

Michael felt suddenly guilty. That he'd changed his mind. That he didn't get a chance to let her know she might not just be for one night, a conquest, a triumph. That he might just want to get to know her better, see her smiles again, kiss her lips, make love to her again. That he really liked her. Crap.

Lisa finally sauntered to her car, savoring her memories of last night, swinging her hips, just a little, still sipping her coffee. Fishing in her bag for her keys, she saw a green slip of paper. "What's this?" she pulled it out, "A check?" It was a check, her check, made out to Michael. Michael Shaw. He'd written on it "THANKS," in big block letters, and ripped it in half. Lisa stopped, slightly smiling, taken aback. She was right, totally right, all along. She was desirable, and men, real men, wanted her, wanted to take her, make her into one of their wanton sex-toys. It wasn't her fault Garrett was gay. She finally knew that she was beautiful, just what men wanted, sweet and sticky, a little rich, a little decadent, melting in your mouth, leaving you wanting more...deliciously...like butter on cream. 

END