0 comments/ 4909 views/ 1 favorites Sola By: cookiefoot It's 1:00 AM Labor Day, one of the loneliest nights of the year. Alone, sober, I see drunk people. They move in twos, threes and ones up and down the bar-lined boulevard. Some bounce. Some drag. Hunger wafts through the streets. Cadillac Escalades, sprayed in their finest pearl-white, strut down Erie Street at fifteen m.p.h. though they appear to be doing twenty. The dark-skinned drivers whistle at tight dresses on tight asses. Their blaring horns seem to say, "Hey baby, how you doin'?" Stiletto heels clickety-click-click down the sidewalk. I overhear conquest details: "Hey! D'you wanna fuck? For reals. No mames. (Come on.) Text you when'm done wit m'boys. Later." Women's MAC-linered bocas (mouths) suck on mints. Men without a sure titty for the night comfort themselves manually. That is, right hand clutches beer bottle or right hand rests against crotch. Women and men alike absent-mindedly check their cell phones every few minutes for...that one and only text message that can save their soul. Although I walk home alone from the club, I fill the solitude by reflecting on the night's details and eyeballing every passing uniform in squad car. Officer Wolf Eyes, too old. Please keep going. Mmm. Cute but not paying attention. Damn-just missed a paddy wagon, a police vehicle I fetish harder on for its unknown element of what really goes on in the windowless back area. But back to the club. I know it well. I close my eyes. I'm there. I smell Curve men's cologne and cigarettes. Some guy took his shirt out of the dryer too soon. Mold-scent circulates. Add bad breath and you've got salsero death. In the closeness of Latin dancing, everything's gotta smell good. For that I pop Dentyne two at a time every half hour. Get close boys. I'm ready for ya. DJ Steven spins that booming base on his kick ass sound system, skipping once in a while. I hear salsa. Merengue. Bachata. Now and then he plays cha cha, or as the Latinos say, "cha cha cha." I hear English and Spanish equally spoken and by now they sound the same. It all comes filtered through my ear plug. I only need one. I'm already deaf in the other ear, the sign of a true club junkie. The night is typical in that invitations to dance pour my way initially but slow to a trickle when the younger, prettier women file in late and so cool. Lingering on the bar stool, I harden into a fixture. Watching the dancers, it's clear their spins, markings, dips, and shines are stymied for lack of space, also known as, "dancing on a brick." My eyes lock on no one in particular but, rather, a single blur of faces, bodies and limbs melded together like a room-filling, rhythmic sea animal. Next to me sits "Bo", a sweet-worded, big-all-over black regular. He gives me a receptive side-long glance. We regulars are shocked to find out that tonight he hits the big 7-5. When Steven plays the salsa birthday anthem, everyone clears the floor and the older ladies line up to dance with Bo one by one. It's an old guy's version of pulling a train. He barely looks twice my thirty-five years with his amazingly tight skin. I'm jealous he looks this good for his age, knowing if I make it to seventy-five, my pale face won't weather the UV rays quite as well as his dark cheeks. Even with that edge, he dresses as a hip, younger man sporting a thick chain, Dolce & Gabbana shades and a pin-striped railroad hat. He's in all his glory, surrounded by the hungry ladies. Again a wave of envy washes over me. If one of us gets lucky it will probably be him, a graying, seventy-five year old and not me, a blond thirty-five year old in her sexual prime. But this is no time for deep thoughts. The fresh meat is arriving and I need to inspect it. "Happy birthday, Bo, " I tell him. And off I go, making the unnecessary trip to the ladies room. It's more ladylike to walk like I have a destination. I pass one couple doing a combo of a hands-free cross-body lead, single turn, matador, reverse triple, and finally two half dips before a lightning-quick reverse 360. The guy hits me on the butt. I instantly seek his eyes but he appears so lost in the music I assume it was accidental. Tappi, a sweaty, older white woman sits at the bar smiling at me, as does an otherwise faceless guy. We all bust out laughing. Tappi snorts in a rough, road-trucker manner, "You gotta take it anyway you can!" in the same vein as Janis Joplin desperately belting out, "...get it while you can." We share a knowing laugh between women. I keep walking and --ooh...there's Kareem, the petite white boy who wears sleeveless shirts to show off his arms. His eyes are sexy blue. We are thirsty and visually drink each other in. "Where have you been?" he asks. I don't get personal with salseros but tell him the truth. "I bought a new computer and can hardly leave my house!" "Oh, like that joke," he says. "Why does a dog lick his balls?" Ew! I can't believe he said that but pretend I'm not grossed out. "Umm...I dunno, I reply. "Because they can!" he half exclaims and pokes his tongue into the inside of his cheek, making the blowjob gesture. Anywhere else it would look lewd but in the club it's fine. "That's nasty," I say, lightly shoving his bare shoulder. I picture dogs licking themselves and imagine what they would be thinking. I remember an ex-lover who would moan as I would roll my tongue around his balls before moving onto his cock. I smirk and he raises an eyebrow, obviously wondering why. The raw energy around us breaks down my inhibitions. I blurt out, "Men and dogs have something in common!" Oops. Didn't mean to say that. He leans in, wide-eyed, like he wants more. He's closer than usual but no more than when we dance. The tension feels good but I look down, look up and think how to back out of this conversation. I shouldn't be discussing testicles with salseros, even in the sexually-charged vibe of the club. He must see my demeanor change and returns to the original subject. " I go online a lot, too. Time flies in those chat rooms," he says, eyes panning the dance floor. Though I hide it, I'm annoyed he thinks I do chat rooms. Do I seem like the chat room type? "No," I say, climbing out on a limb. "I'm on this military dating site and meet all these deployed soldiers." Hey, I tell myself, if he's talking about dogs licking their balls, how bad can it be to admit I joined a singles website? "Oh, no shit," he says flatly, registering no surprise. Well, I guess I seem like the dating-site type, too! "So," he continues, "it's like internet dating--in Iraq!" We crack up and he leads me to the floor for a bachata song by Extreme. Mira, como estoy sufriendo me quemo por dentro por sentir tu amor Mami, no me hagas eso sabes que te quiero con todo el corazon Look how I'm suffering I'm burning inside to feel your love baby, don't do that to me you know I want you with all my heart His body goes into the mode and those small but sculpted arms move me side to side. The rest of him inhales the rhythm and takes me on the ride. It will only last five minutes but for those three hundred seconds I am his-completely. When he urges his hard abs against mine, I press back. By now he can easily feel each curve of my full breasts against his chest. I submissively follow the lead of his leg between my thighs so we turn perfectly as one. We are primates. At a dramatic break in the song, he throws me into a dip. I drop low, reel in, bounce off his chest and bam! He again lowers me deep to his left and, still down, rotates me sharply to the right as my long hair sweeps the floor. Vertebrae by vertebrae, he rolls me up and we lock eyes. In the language of Latin dancing he has conquered and fucked me right there for everyone to see. When the song ends we politely part, partner up with new people and do it again. And again. And again. For hours. The floor is one big bed. We are whores, all of us dancers, regulars, feasting on a public orgy. Old Bo isn't the only one who pulls a train tonight. All the while, I don't think about why I was born, will I ever bear a child or whether I have carpel-tunnels syndrome. I live in the moment with these partners, the music, the motion of the Latin rhythm. And for just a flash I feel powerful and beautiful. Going home alone may not be so bad after all. Solace This is part of a much larger project, so the intro to some of the characters is lacking here. I have written more which I should be posting later. It was late when we got back to my house. Emma and Eric waved goodbye as they climbed into their car, but Patrick stood on the porch, watching me carefully. There was something unreadable in his eyes, something my suddenly aching heart wanted to believe was mine for the asking. It was a silly notion, yet I didn't want to let it go. It was late, I was exhausted and suddenly all I wanted was to lead him upstairs, strip him naked and run my hands across his bare skin. He'd be warm and hard and so very alive. And I could forget, for a little while at least, the weight that was pressing down on me. The wrenching ache for the solace of his body threatened to wring a sob from me and I shuddered, turning my face so he couldn't read me. If he'd been a normal man, that would have worked. But when you're standing less than two feet from an empath with all your emotional defenses down, turning your head does not provide much cover. Not much at all. "I can come in," his beautiful English voice was just over my shoulder, close enough to touch. "It's not fair that you can do that, you know." "It's not fair I can come inside?" "No…" I glanced back at him, praying my face was reasonably neutral. "It's not fair you can read me like that." "Ah." He smiled, reaching out to take the keys from my hand. "Well, a man has to have some advantage in this world, doesn't he?" He slipped the key in the lock, turning it slowly and pushing open the door. He held it open for me, waiting for me to enter before him. "Some advantage, yes. That particular one? I don't know." I walked into my living room, suddenly calm. He followed me in, slipping my keys onto the nail by the door before shutting and locking the door behind him. Apparently, he was staying for the night. Patrick reached for my sweater, helping me out of it easily. "I happen to like that particular advantage. It's possibly the only part of my life that doesn't at least occassionally feel like a curse." I watched him move to the coat rack, hanging first my sweater, then his jacket. Solace. Yes, and comfort. Those he could give me, seemed quite ready and willing to provide. But I didn't want him to misunderstand. I didn't want him to think this meant more than it did. "Patrick, I . . ." "Shhh." He took the step to close the distance between us, laying one finger gently across my lips. "Empath, remember? You don't have to explain." I looked up at him, illuminated by the dim light of a single table lamp, and nodded. "I know, but I want to. I…I need to, even if you don't need to hear it." He simply stood there in front of me and took one hand in his. Slowly, he lifted it to his lips and kissed my palm lightly. "I'll listen to anything you need to tell me." In that moment, when his lips touched my skin, I knew he would. I knew he would listen to everything I had to say or yell or rant or whisper. He'd listen to it all and keep it secret for me. Standing in front of me was a true refuge, a place I could be vulnerable without fear. And suddenly I was very afraid. I'd wanted to tell him I only needed comfort, just a way to rise above the pain that was threatening to drown me. I'd never find a way to solve this riddle, I'd never have the strength or the focus to do what I needed to – whatever that turned out to be – to pull my people out of harm's way if I didn't find a way to channel this sorrow. I'd wanted to ask a friend to help me out, to help me get through this and still be my friend when it was over. But it could be so much more with Patrick. It could go so much deeper than friendship or comfort or hell, even the occassional good fuck. No, this…this could definitely be more. Hence, the fear. I'd had more once or at least I thought I'd had. I'd thought Collin would be my safe place, but he'd turned my vulnerablities against me. He'd called me a slut when my sex drive overpowered his. He'd called me a heathen – which was true, but he hadn't meant it in a good way. He'd meant to hurt me with it, hurt me like my mother had all those years ago when she'd said I was just like my father. He'd wanted me to be a good girl, settle down and have 2.5 kids and the picket fence and that just wasn't me. Seeing the possibilities in Patrick's sea-green eyes made my heart speed up. Speed up until I thought it was going to burst through my chest and I would die, but at least if I were dead I wouldn't feel this trapped, this scared. He frowned, looking down at me. Empath. Dammit. He'd caught it all, caught the fear and panic, even if he didn't know why. Or maybe he did. I wasn't certain how powerful he was, maybe he could read memories too. "Zera…" He started, then stopped, choosing instead to lean down and kiss me. He was quick about it, or I'd have pulled away. As soon as his lips touched mine, the panic subsided. The choking tightness in my chest began to relax. He was just Patrick. He wasn't Collin reborn. Just Patrick. I sighed against his lips, reaching a hand up to grapple with his shirt. The fabric was rough under my hand, but I didn't mind. Just Patrick. Yes, that's all. And what was so wrong with that? Suddenly, I couldn't remember why I was so afraid. He was just Patrick, after all. Patrick pulled back, looking down at me carefully. His lips were soft and just the tiniest bit puffy. The kiss had been almost chaste, just lips pressed to lips, warm and sweet. Reassuring, not pressuring. Just Patrick, not my nightmares. "Zera, I won't hurt you. I need you to believe me." I looked up to him and whatever he saw in my eyes must have reassured him. The wrinkle in his brow relaxed and he loosened his grip on me, although he kept me close enough to draw the warmth from his body. "I don't know why you were so afraid," he said, letting one hand start moving in slow circles on my back. Part of me didn't believe that. Part of me was certain he knew exactly why I was afraid. "But I promise you, I won't ever ask you for more than you can give me. I won't ever ask you to be someone you're not. I just want to help you, I swear." Something teased at the back of my brain. I had the sneaking suspicion that help was his second-choice word. It was true enough, but it wasn't the entire truth. Did I want to press him for it tonight? No, I decided, I did not. Patrick had his secrets and I had mine. It was an equal playing field, so how could I complain? "I…Patrick, I don't want you to think I'm using you." He quirked a brow. "And how do you know I'm not using you?" I smirked at that. "You're not." I was certain he wasn't. Sure, he was a guy. And I knew very few guys to turn down sex when it's offered to them. But he wasn't lying to me, he wasn't pretending to be in love with me. He was just being Patrick. That faint corner of my mind noticed I'd thought the words Just Patrick a few hundred times in the last three minutes. Can empaths project thoughts? I made a note to ask him later. I smiled at him, running a hand across his jaw. "Come upstairs with me?" He smiled back, leaning over to nip at the tip of my nose. "Yes, please." I laughed at that, taking him by the hand and turning to walk through the darkened house to the stairwell which lead to my bedroom. We stood by the side of my bed, enfolded in each other's arms, for long moments. I didn't want to rush this, not when what I needed was to remind myself how to feel alive. He seemed to understand, moving his hands slowly down my shirt as he kissed me again. This time it wasn't so chaste, but it was still undemanding. His tongue teased my lips as his fingers slide under the bottom of my shirt, skirting the flesh of my belly. I shiver at his touch, tiny trendils of warmth shooting up and down my spine. He had soft hands. Soft and large and gentle against my skin. As his tongue worked its way into my mouth, his hands moved up my body to trace the bottom edge of my bra. "Mmm…this feels like silk," Patrick murmured against me. I nodded, letting my hands move across his body. I tugged at his shirt, dislodging it from his waistband. The fabric bunched against his back as my hands dove underneath, flattening against the plane of his back. Goddess, but he felt so warm and solid. Just that touch, just that simple touch of hands to back and I could feel warmth starting to pool in my belly. Patrick shivered against me, his soft, probing kiss faltering for a moment. Then he recovered, kissing me again, deeper and sweeter than before. Time, I wanted to take my time, I told myself. I can't let this get out of control, not yet. So, I moved my hands around his waist and up his chest, marveling at the feel of him. His chest felt smooth, nearly hairless and I sighed. I was particularly fond of smooth-chested men. My own skin was so sensitive, an overly hairy man was painful against my bare flesh. I found a nipple and paused, pulling away to look at him. He looked down at me, lips dewy and swollen. "Yes?" I smiled, then tweaked the little hoop that pierced his nipple. "You just didn't seem the type." Patrick groaned, pulling me hard against him. "Oh, you've no idea, love. None at all." He kissed me, deeply and fiercely this time, then pulled away with an impish look in his eye. "Do it again, please." I laughed and tweaked him again, then got an idea. "Hold on…" I removed my hand from his nipple, shhhing the little groan of protest from him. I had his shirt unbuttoned in about ten seconds and about three seconds after that I had my mouth attached to his nipple. Patrick shuddered, tugging me tighter against him, one hand going down to clench around my bottom. "Oh, gods…." I laughed against him, licking at his nipple, rolling the ring around on my tongue and then tugging at it until it was taunt. His eyes fluttered closed and his hands clenched against me. "Mmmm….I take it you like that?" He merely nodded, then lifted me up off the ground and spun me toward the bed. The movement caught me off guard and I gasped, but he settled me on the edge of the bed quickly. Then he stood before me, shirt agap so I could run my eyes over his chest. Yes, it was practically hairless. Yes, only one nipple was pierced. And yes, by Goddess, I wanted to run my tongue all over him, from the crook of his neck to that little patch of hair that lead down to his groin. It must have shown on my face, because he smiled at me. Then slowly, oh so very slowly, he peeled off his shirt and tossed it to the floor. I licked my lips, leaning back on the bed, propped up on my elbows. Patrick watched my face, those lovely eyes never leaving mine. He stepped out of his shoes, kicking them to the side. Then his hands floated to his waistband. His jeans were button-fly and already they strained to keep his swollen length inside. The sight of him, straining against the jeans made my insides warm and squishy. A few kisses, a few flicks of my tongue and already he was hard? It made a girl feel good, knowing she had that kind of power. "You are a wicked woman, Zera Washington." I smiled up at him, doing my best to look innocent. "Thank you. Now strip. I want to see you naked." Heat flashed in his eyes and I knew he wouldn't disappoint me. Indeed, he blew me a kiss. "Whatever my lady wishes." And then his hands were back on his waistband, popping open those buttons one by one as I watched. One, two, three, four…five buttons and some of the tension went out of his face as his cock was free of its prison. I was pleased to see Patrick didn't wear underwear. Or at least, he wasn't wearing any tonight. My eyes glided back up to his face to find his eyes focused on me. The heat flooded again, getting more insistant. I licked my lips and let him see me do it. And then, because I'm a wicked girl and he's an empath, I thought very, very hard about him trapped beneath me, buried to the hilt inside me, as I rode him hard. He gasped. He actually gasped and his hands, which were pushing down his jeans, faltered. "Gods, woman. Are you trying to kill me?" I smiled pleasantly. "No, Patrick. I'm just trying to fuck you. And you're still not naked." He remedied that quickly enough, stepping out of the jeans and tossing them aside. I heard them land somewhere in the dark. And then he stood before me, completely naked, horribly aroused and delectably male. I ran my eyes over his body and suddenly I wanted my hands there. I gestured to him and he came, walking over until he was before me. Then, before I could move up to touch him, he leaned down, his arms to either side of my head and pressed his naked body against my still clothed one. It was electric. Goddess help me, I almost climaxed then and there. Through the tough denim of my jeans, through the flimsy cotton of my t-shirt, his heat sank into me. Sank into my skin and my bones and, for the faintest of moments, seemed to nestle against my soul. I wanted to clutch at that heat, keep it nestled against that hidden part of me. I wanted it so badly I forgot to be afraid of what that closeness could mean, of the pain it could bring. Goddess help me, but I wanted him in every part of me. And then, it was gone. From my soul, at least. My lust befuddled mind was certain he'd pulled back a bit and started to pout. Then, he kissed me again and this time there was nothing remotely chaste or gentle about it. Patrick kissed me like I was the only woman in the universe, like he was trying to crawl inside me and set up house. I forgot about wanting his soul to touch mine and focused on his body, his tongue, the wonderfully stinging trail his hands were leaving as they worked my shirt off my body. The shirt was gone seconds after I realized he was tugging at it. Gone sailing over our heads to join his clothing somewhere in the dark. And then his face was nuzzling between my breasts, licking at the curve spilling out of my silk bra, sucking at the top of my tattoo where it curled around my left breast. I groaned, trying to push myself up off the bed, to help his eager fingers find the hooks across my back that would release my breasts. And then he found it and freed them. Freed them so they could be taken prisoner by his hot, hungry mouth. My breath caught in my throat as his lips fastened on one nipple. His tongue…gods help me, but his tongue swirled and teased me, until I thought I was going to come. My reaction pleased him, because he growled low in his throat, then moved his mouth to my other nipple, giving it the same treatment. I clawed at his back, trying to remember to breathe. He was so hot in my arms, like fire made flesh. So very hot and hard and wonderfully, deliciously, incredibly male. I wanted to impale myself on him, wanted to feel him inside me as far as he could go, wanted to be full and possessed and to possess him in return. Why, Goddess why wasn't he inside me already? Oh. Right. Jeans. I wasn't naked yet. I pushed at him, pushed that beautiful mouth away from my breasts and started to push at my jeans. "I…these…off…." I'm not at my most articulate when I'm that turned on, but Patrick understood me. He moved far enough from me to help me tug at the offending jeans, dragging them, and then my pair of silk undies off my body and into the dark room somewhere. And then he was touching me again, hotter and harder and more electric this time because there was nothing between us. He started to pin me to the bed, but I meet him halfway, pushing him back until he was sitting propped against the headboard. I grabbed his arms before they could resume their wandering, making him groan in protest. "Shhh," I leaned forward and licked his lips. "I want to see you first." That earned me a look from those kelp colored eyes. I leaned in again, licking at his nipple. "Don't worry, I want you too bad to linger very long. But I have to see." The moonlight streaming through the window cast its shadow over him, throwing the angles of his body into relief. Patrick wasn't a big man, but he wasn't small. His shoulders were broad, which I liked. His chest was hairless, which I liked. And the rigid member jutting up from his groin? Oh, I decided I liked that very much too. Not huge, no. Certainly not small either. A little on the plus side, but not enough to be painful. I held Patrick's hands prisoner as I leaned down and licked at his cock. Just a small lick, a bit of a tease more than anything, but it brought a groan from somewhere deep inside him. "Zera, I swear…" I smiled up at him, then licked him again. He gasped and groaned, beautiful eyes fluttering closed. She's trying to kill me, he thought, and I swear, I swear I heard it. I laughed, moving my body up to straddle his. "No, silly," I said as I leaned in to lick at his neck. I let his hands go then, moving my hands down his body to position him against my sex. "I told you, I'm just trying to fuck you." Patrick's eyes shot open and his hands tightened on my waist, holding me very still. His voice was hoarse and breathy, he had to lick his lips twice to speak. "Whatever my lady wishes." And then he was inside me, pushing up with one hard stroke that made me whimper with the sheer joy of it. My body stretched and filled, and I shivered against the hard, hot length of him moving inside me. Yes, I thought, please Goddess, yes. Open your eyes, love. Open your eyes and let me see you. There was pleading in the voice, pleading and lust, desire and need and…something else I didn't think I was supposed to notice, so I let it be. I opened my eyes, to see Patrick watching me. His face was so close, I had to kiss him. He groaned against my mouth, his tongue hungry and caressing. One hand came up from my waist to clinch in my hair. He kissed me again like he wanted to crawl inside and set up shop and I didn't mind. I wanted him to do it, I wanted him to come inside me anyway he could. I wanted his body inside mine, I wanted his tongue in my mouth, I wanted his mind touching mine. I wanted to feel his heat down to my soul again. Patrick pulled his lips away from mine and stared at me. And I knew then he'd heard me, or at the least felt what I wanted. This is the point where other men pulled away, this is the point where other men decided I was too much trouble, too demanding. But Patrick only smiled, a surprised, happy smile. And he kissed me again, harder this time, more possessive. I squirmed against him, my hips beating down on him harder, faster. Mine, I thought. Mine, mine, mine. As if in agreement, Patrick thrust harder inside me, that hand on my waist becoming tighter, forcing me to be almost still. I wanted to fight against it, wanted to ride him harder until he screamed for me, until he begged me to stop, until he pleaded with me to make him mine. Mine, mine, mine. Yours, yes. The thought came to me clearly, even though Patrick didn't stop kissing me. Yours, however you want me. If this had been a rational moment, I'd have been frightened. Not only because Patrick had spoken in my head. Telepaths were rare, but not unheard of. But his words had the ring of a vow, a pledge. They didn't sound like words simply spoken in the heat of passion. But this wasn't a rational moment and it was just what I wanted to hear from him. My body hummed with power and I locked my arms around his neck, using it for leverage to ride him harder. Patrick groaned, letting his hand slip from my hair. "Love….love, wait…I…" He was sweating and I kissed the sweat from his brow, then bent to nip at his earlobe. Love, please. I can't take much more. Don't care. Want you to come inside me. I will….gods know I will, but you first… Solace His hand slipped down between us then, searching, searching until they landed on my clit. I gasped, letting go of his ear, and threw my head back to look at him. He liked the wildness in my eyes, liked the way his touch pushed me to the edge. Goddess, but the smallest stroke made me quiver. His eyes said he liked that reaction, he liked it very much. So much that he began to stroke my clit slowly, then faster, then slowly, then faster until I was begging him to stop teasing me. As my lady wishes. I thought what had gone before was good. What came next was incredible. Patrick thrust harder, his hand on my hip pressing me down at the same time. First shallow, then deep, then shallow again. And his hand kept massaging my clit, kept teasing me and building the heat and pressure inside me that threatened to explode. He caught my eyes and held them. It was as though I were spellbound, incapable of looking anywhere but those two beautiful sea jewel eyes of his. The pressure was building, pounding at the limits of my body, begging to be let out. He moved inside me and I moved against him, our eyes locked, the need and desire naked for each other to see. When I thought I couldn't stand it anymore, when I thought I'd have to explode or die, he moved both hands to my thighs and began thrusting in sharp, quick bursts. Inside me, his cock shifted, hitting a small, hidden pulse I wasn't aware I had. My eyes widened and Patrick smiled. His hands tightened and he kept moving, touching that pulse over and over until my eyes rolled back and I convulsed around him, spilling power and heat from my body to his. He caught his breath as my orgasm pulled him over the edge, and then we were both falling, falling and pulsing and bursting into fountains of bright, burning white light. Until we couldn't be sure where one of us ended and the other began. Until I felt the heat of his soul nestle against mine. This time, I grabbed it. Grabbed it and clung to it possessively. Mine! I thought. In that second between heartbeats, between one breath and the next I had a sudden blinding flash of Patrick. Not Patrick as he was now, but Patrick as he had been all those centuries ago before whatever curse that made him immortal had been cast. The flash was incomplete, just bits and pieces. Patrick dressed as a Roman soldier. Patrick standing inside a temple. A woman crying, begging him in a language I didn't understand. A red-haired priest rising before a fire, casting the curse at Patrick. And then it was gone and I collapsed against my Patrick in the here and now. My Patrick. I rolled it over in my mind. This hadn't started out that way. It was supposed to be a little comfort sex between friends. But I had a sneaking suspicion he was now My Patrick. I felt his hand on my back and remembered to breathe. We lay coiled in my bed, a sweat-soaked tangle of naked limbs. I didn't have the strength to look up at him. I didn't have the strength to move. I barely had the strength to breathe. He nuzzled against my neck, hands holding me as tightly as they could. If he hadn't, I would have spilled over backward. My Patrick. I waited for the fear to rise in me, the panic of being trapped. But it didn't come. Laying there against him, all I felt was peace. Peace and a sense of…safety. That made me shiver. I hadn't felt safe around a man in a long time. He kissed the side of my neck then, groaning as he moved us slowly onto our sides. It took a moment to detangle our limbs, but then I was curled back against his chest again. Safe. I was safe again. I looked up at him then, at that sex-tossled dark hair and those shining eyes. Something more than sex had definitely happened tonight, but I wasn't sure I could put a name on it. I had questions. I had so many questions to ask him, I didn't know where to start. Patrick smiled down at me, those beautiful eyes heavy with sleep and satisfaction. "Shhhh, love. Tomorrow. Tomorrow you can ask me anything you want." I wanted to protest. I wanted to demand answers immediately. But I didn't. Instead I smiled back at him, then ducked my head and nuzzled against that wonderfully fuzz-free chest of his and closed my eyes. Tomorrow was soon enough. Solace Vic stood alone in the bedroom, staring at the reflection in the full-length mirror as though taking notes. Dark hair, cropped close. Dark eyes, both by nature and by the distant look of loss in them. Full Mediterranean lips in an olive face. Torso covered by a black t-shirt. The leather jacket that went with it was thrown over a chair. Hips and legs clad in tight faded jeans that covered the tops of lace-up boots. "Yeah, I'm a sight alright," muttered the well built butch woman. She snorted. Her jeans even bulged as that morning she had automatically donned the strapon she generally wore. Her eyes drifted to the night stand and the picture of her and Marissa. They looked so damn happy there. Marissa, the cute, blonde young femme tucked under her protective arm. Marissa, in her short skirt and heels and low-cut blouse. Marissa, who less than 10 days ago had left Vic a note telling her she was moving back with her old girlfriend. That note had been left not 24 hours after the last time she told Vic "I love you." "Shit!" The word exploded from Vic. Moved by a flash of anger, she took two steps and swept the picture from the nightstand. The sound of shattering glass didn't make her feel any better. She went downstairs to the kitchen closet, got a broom and dust pan and bent to clean it up. Her lips curled in a smile with no joy in them. She did a lot of cleaning for a butch. But Marissa had never done much of it at all. "Goddamn princess," Vic muttered as she dumped the broken glass and frame in the garbage. She hesitated, and then defiantly dropped the picture in after it. She took two steps, then turned and reached in the trash can after the picture. A sliver of glass pierced her finger and she swore loudly. She rummaged through the medicine cabinet, finally getting out a band-aid and some disinfectant. She was an old hand at doctoring cuts and scrapes, having received more than her share of them, mostly from her bike. She went back to the kitchen and stared at the picture. It was where she had dropped it, balanced on the edge of the trash can. She snorted and kicked the lid closed. Just then the phone rang. Almost eagerly, Vic snatched the handset up. With her mood right now it would be great to tell off some telemarketer. "What?" She all but snarled. "Vicky?" came an unfamiliar voice. Vic was startled. No one but NO ONE called her "Vicky". Her parents had named her "Victoria" and the relatives who actually still spoke to her used that name, but this wasn't one of them. "Who is this?" There was a pause. Then, "Vicky, its Nora." Vic was so surprised she almost dropped the phone. Of all the people that she thought might call, Nora was the very last one. After all, she had said she never would. The voice was unfamiliar because Vic had only spoken to Nora via text messages on the Internet. Some eight or nine months ago she had dropped into a chat room. Supposedly it was for women only, and women interested in other women at that. Vic had been burned twice in her first month there. Why some guy wanting to pretend to be a woman would actually suggest phone sex was beyond her. Maybe they thought they could convert her or something. Vic had done much better over the years making conversions HER way, but that didn't lessen the feeling of being taken for a sucker. She really hated that. So that night she had stayed and listened to the conversation in the room, doing nothing more than throwing in an occasional remark. She had enjoyed the word play. Her attention had been drawn by a woman calling herself Nora44. She hadn't seen her before, but Vic really enjoyed the quips and teasing remarks with which the woman had laced her conversation. She also seemed to be quite a flirt. Vic studied the woman's profile and her picture. Nice picture, that of an attractive but definitely grown woman. Not one of the myriad of 20 year old blondes with big chests that seemed to infest the chat room. Not that she was cynical or anything, but how many women like that needed a chat room to find a date on Saturday night? When Nora had filled out her profile, she had been very open on some things and ignored some others. She listed simply that she was from "The South". Vic liked Southern women. She cheerfully admitted her age, the fact that she was a few pounds overweight and that her hair was growing gray. She said nothing about her relationship status or her profession. Vic noted that she did list her sexual orientation as "Bi". Watching the conversation with one eye as she studied the profile, she saw Nora made a remark about art. Being interested in art herself, Vic made a comment in the main room to Nora. They chatted for a while before Nora left. When she did so, she made a flirtatious remark to Vic. The next time Vic saw Nora she said hello and Nora replied with a cheerful "Hi sexy!" Vic had laughed and asked Nora if she was talking to the right person. Nora assured her she was and then began to banter with her. Vic, not normally known for "bantering" found she enjoyed it and they became friends. Vic learned more about Nora. Nora's picture was of her face, with just a hint of what appeared to be black lace covering the top of her chest, the garment supported by thin black straps over her shoulders. As they became friends, Vic inquired as to the garment. Nora declined to answer, but the next morning when Vic checked her email she found Nora had sent her another picture. Curious, she opened it and almost gasped. It was a full length picture of Nora. The outfit turned out to be a black teddy. Nora was wearing it with a pair of black heels, Her back was to the camera and she was looking over her shoulder with a grin, her hands on her hips. Vic nagged her memory for a moment about the familiar pose until she saw the caption. It said "My Betty Grable Pose". The next time they chatted, Vic complimented Nora on her picture. Mischievously, she commented on Nora's deep soulful eyes. Nora replied that the reason her eyes looked so deep was that she had the picture taken without her glasses and she couldn't see a darn thing. Vic replied that the she didn't need glasses to appreciate Nora's legs and where they led. On other things Nora was resolutely silent. When Vic asked how she had come to have the picture taken, Nora replied it was for "somebody" but wouldn't say whom. From side comments Vic was certain that Nora had two, possibly three children. "She's probably married," Vic mused to herself once after a chat, which had included some rather brazen flirtation on both their parts. "That would explain her discretion. Or she could be divorced and her sexuality might cause trouble with her children's custody." She had finally shrugged her shoulders. "If she wants to tell me she will. After all, she's a friend, not a lover, even online." That had changed during one chat. The teasing had grown intense and they had cyber sex. It wasn't Vic's first experience with online sex, but it had been one of the best. Nora was inventive and fun when it came to playing out a fantasy. Still, they were friends. She knew that Nora had a wide circle of pals, many of whom were known for playing online. Vic valued Nora much more as a friend than as an online playmate. To Nora she showed a side she didn't often reveal, even to herself. A side that was softer, a side that loved romantic poetry. A side that she felt she could trust to the other woman. When Vic began to date Marissa, Nora was really pleased. Her comment "Everyone should have someone to share their life with", reinforced Vic's conviction Nora was married, or at least in a long-term relationship. When Marisa moved in Nora was ecstatic. Vic had stopped coming online shortly after that. Marissa thought it was "stupid". Still, she had slipped on to have one final chat and had seen Nora. On a sudden impulse, she had given Nora her phone number. "I know you said you never let your online and offline lives cross," she had explained. "But I just want you to have it." "Okay, thanks." Nora had replied. Vic had really thought nothing more of that night. Things with Marissa were splendid. "Fool," she scolded herself. She hadn't seen it coming at all, just been blinded by her infatuation with the pretty femme. She had been burned before, but this time she had really given her heart away. The same night she had found the note, still in shock, she had just sat down at the computer and logged in for the first time in three months. Several regular chatters had greeted her. One was a friend and Vic had unburdened herself about Marissa. After that, she had not been back to the chat room. She hadn't seen Nora online. And now she was on the phone. "Nora? Why are you calling?" Almost before the words were out of her mouth Vic regretted them. Why else would Nora be calling after all? "Davia told me about Marissa. I'm so sorry, Vic." "Did she tell you I'm a basket case or something?" Vic all but snapped. "No, she didn't," Nora replied calmly. "She told me you had a stiff upper lip in place and acted like you were glad to be rid of Marissa. I knew better, of course." "Of course." Vic paused and took a deep breath. Damn she was being bitchy. Nora didn't deserve that. Amazingly, Nora laughed. "Yes, of course, you goose. You might be Vic the hard-core butch to the world but I know about the soft center under that crust." She sobered. "If you didn't have that soft inside you wouldn't be hurting. But I know you are, and I was worried." "Thank you." Vic said, meaning the two words. "So," she tried to change the subject, "So where are you calling from?" "From a pay phone at a Flash Foods store at Main Street and, what the heck is that other street name? Napier, I think." "Main and Napier?" Vic was stunned. "You're HERE? Here in town? How did you know?" "Isn't the Internet a great search tool?" came the reply. "I looked up your area code, and then the location of the prefix. I bet I'm not but a few miles away. Now, how do I get to you?" Nora's voice really did have a Southern accent that intensified as she talked. "Nora, are you sure? I mean, I appreciate it but," Vic stumbled over the words. "You said you would never do this. I mean call, much less suddenly drop by." "Yeah, well, so I changed my mind. Now then, directions?" Still rather stunned, Vic gave directions to her town house. After hanging up, she looked around. Frantically she grabbed the vacuum cleaner and a roll of paper towels and started cleaning up. In the twenty minutes that it took Nora to get there, Vic hastily picked up the worst of the last week's mess. She rushed upstairs and made the bed. In the midst of doing that, she stopped to wonder if Nora was going to spend the night, and if so, where? Just what was her up-till-now online only friend really doing? She heard a car door slam and peeked out the window. It was Nora. And oh my, she was driving a pickup truck. Vic watched as the familiar face hopped down from the driver's door. She was pretty much exactly as Vic had imagined her. Her hair was cut shorter than the shoulder length she had been wearing in the picture, but other than that she looked the same. She was wearing a light tan pants suit with a plain white blouse. A work outfit, Vic felt. Then the doorbell was ringing and Vic was opening the door. "Hey you!" Nora greeted her brightly and swept past Vic, leaving her standing in the doorway with a baffled look on her face. She turned and followed her visitor. The other woman dropped a small overnight bag on the floor next to the couch, kicked off her shoes and sat down with her feet tucked under her. Vic flopped down next to her never before seen friend. "Nora, I repeat. What the Hell are you doing here? You said you would..." "Never call you or see you, that I would stay online only. Well, you're my friend and this is an emergency." "Emergency?" Vic snorted, hoping she sounded convincing. She thought she did, even maybe a bit to herself. "There's no emergency. If you're talking about Marissa, shit, I'm better off without her." "Well that's good to know," replied Nora, looking Vic dead in the eyes. Vic had the uneasy feeling the smaller woman was not fooled a bit. She decided to change the subject. "Not that I'm not glad to see you anyway, but what about your family? What did you tell them, especially your," Vic hesitated. She wanted to say "husband" but damn, she just wasn't sure. It could be "boyfriend" or "girlfriend" or even just "roommate" or "friend". Nora simply sidestepped the question, as she always did. "I'm free and clear until tomorrow night. But I'm not here to talk about me. I want to know about you." They talked late into the evening. Vic continued to insist she was just fine and changed the subject every time Nora tried to steer the discussion to Marissa. Finally, Nora yawned and asked where she could crash. "Upstairs is the bedroom. Take it." When Nora seemed to hesitate, Vic assured her, "I'll be fine on the couch. It folds out. Guests first, after all." "Okay then," Nora's lips curved upwards. She stood, stretched and scooped up her bag. She bent over and kissed Vic on the cheek. Then she bounded upstairs. Vic touched her cheek. Nora had disappeared so quickly that she hadn't had time to even consider how else she might have handled the situation. A part of her wanted to follow Nora up the stairs, crush her in her arms and make mad love to her. The other part reminded her that this was a friend, one who had taken a tremendous leap of faith to be a friend and that deserved to be treated with respect. She took the pillows off the couch and piled them on the floor. She pulled the couch open, sat on the mattress and began to unlace her boots. As she did, the night's conversation kept running through her mind. Her anger at Marissa stirred again. "Vicky?" came the soft Southern voice from the stairway. Vic looked over her shoulder and her mouth literally fell open. Nora was standing on the stairway. She was wearing her black teddy and the matching high heels. She leaned against the wall, one foot a step higher than the other. "Nora," Vic heard her voice waver and swallowed, "Are you sure?" Instead of answering, Nora turned and started up the stairs. Before she disappeared, she stopped and posed as she had for her picture. Then she wiggled her bottom, crooked her finger, and was gone. Vic heard her heels clicking in the upstairs hallway. A somehow remote part of her mind noted that Nora must have waited until she was on the carpeted stairs before donning her heels. Then the rest of her mind took over and she all but bolted up those same stairs. Nora was standing near the bed. Her face was almost unreadable, with an expression of calm concealing whatever she might have been feeling. She lifted her arms over her head in a gesture of surrender. The blood pounded in Vic's temples and she cast everything to the winds except her need, her lust and her anger. She rushed on Nora, catching the smaller woman up in her arms and crushing her against the wall. She kissed her, savagely, taking command of Nora's mouth and using her tongue to claim ownership. Her left hand grasped the black lace material of Nora's teddy where it narrowed over her ass. Giving a jerk from her well-muscled arm, Vic pulled the material up sharply. The result was to bunch the teddy like a thin strap between Nora's legs and in her ass cleft. Vic jerked up and down as though she was using the material as a saw. Marissa liked it rough and for a moment the features of the woman with her and those of her ex-lover seemed to blend. Nora's left shoulder strap had fallen down her arm, exposing the top of her small breast, the nipple just peeking through the lace. Vic jammed her hand inside the teddy, taking the breast in her hand and squeezing it hard. She ground her hips on Nora, as though she was trying to drive her strapon through her jeans and into the other woman. Vic slowed her assault for a moment, pulling her head back to look. She was hurting Nora, she knew it, taking her anger at Marissa out on her friend. Then she felt Nora's fingers at the front of her jeans, unsnapping and unzipping them, freeing the straining latex cock. She heard the whispered words from Nora. "Fuck me, you dyke bitch." Vic's hand dropped from Nora's breast, to be replaced by her mouth. She sucked the small orb in, then released all but the hard nubbin as her hand settled on the soaked strip the teddy had become. Curly hair and the swelling lips of Nora's pussy were in view already when Vic seized the material and both her hands jerked. There was a popping noise and the teddy fell free from between Nora's legs. Vic grasped Nora's ass in both hands and lifted her off her toes. Pinning her against the wall, she felt Nora's legs spread to either side of her body. She jammed her hips forward; one, two, then three times. The head of the cock bumped into Nora's wet pussy. With a satisfied grunt, Vic dug her fingers in Nora's ass and pulled down hard. At the same time she thrust upwards with her hips and bit down on the nipple she held in her lips. Nora somehow muffled a scream as Vic impaled her. Vic shook her head back and forth, pulling the nipple and whipping Nora's breast back and forth before releasing it. Using her grip on Nora's ass, she turned, setting the smaller woman on the side edge of the dresser. She pushed her back, scattering the few items on the dresser. She grasped Nora's ankles in each hand, lifting the smaller woman's legs into the air and spreading her wide open. Vic slammed into Nora harder than she had ever used anyone. She pulled her hips back until the head of the dildo was just in and then used the full force of her strong hips to ram into the other woman. Her hands tightened on Nora's breasts. In the back of her mind, Vic knew she might be bruising Nora, but her rage was in control and she couldn't stop. Somehow the woman beneath her had become some kind of object. The pain, the loss Vic felt; the emotions she didn't let herself show, were expressed the only way she knew how, by anger. Vic gritted her teeth as she pounded into Nora. Each time she bottomed out in the other woman's vagina, the shaped base of the dildo rocked back into her own wet pussy. It rubbed up and down, the friction stimulating her clit and rousing her to even more frenzied efforts. She leaned forward, bending Nora almost into a "U" and bracing herself on the small breasts before her. As the first spasm ran through her body she gave voice to her feelings as though it was Marissa under her. "Bitch! Slut! Damn you, damn you for leaving me, you fucking cunt!" She gave one more tremendous thrust, the cock completely engulfed in Nora and the base crushing her own clit. She gave one more scream and fell on top of the other woman. Her heart and breathing began to slow to normal. As though a cloud vanished from in front of her eyes, she realized what she was doing and sprang backwards, pulling the dildo out of Nora. She stood and stared down at the woman stretched out on the dresser. She appeared dazed. There were marks on her breasts where Vic had dug her fingers in and, yes, there were going to be bruises at the very least on the inside of Nora's thighs. Vic tore her gaze away. She was butch and could even be domme, but she had never treated anyone like this. Roughness was always preceded by discussion and acceptance. She felt her stomach turn over. Nora had offered herself but Vic felt like she had raped the other woman. On top of everything else, this was too much. She turned and fell onto the bed. Curling herself in a tight ball, she began to cry. Cry! She who hadn't sobbed since she was 13 and had sworn she never would again. And she couldn't stop. The tears poured from her. Solace Then a pair of soft arms wrapped around her. She heard a Southern voice say "Shhhhhhhhhhhh, its alright." She resisted not at all as those arms pulled her over onto her other side and gentle hands pulled her into a warm embrace. Nora rocked her back and forth, touching her short hair and making wordless soothing noises. Finally the tears stopped. Nora helped Vic stretch out on the bed. Vic felt her boots being unlaced and taken off. Her jeans followed, along with the strapon harness. Then Nora laid down with her again and pulled the sheet over them both. Vic slowly relaxed and dozed off and on for about an hour. She heard the shower running and roused herself when she felt the bed give way. Opening her eyes, she saw Nora kneeling on the bed beside her. Her hair was still wet and she was wearing one of Vic's old t-shirts. "You look a lot better," smiled Nora. Vic stifled an urge to roll away from Nora and hide her face. Instead, she sat up and took the other woman's hands. "Nora," Vic hesitated, unsure of how to say what she felt. "I'm so sorry." She faltered. That sounded so damn trite. She tried to find other words. "I can't believe I did what I did." "Its okay, Vicky." "Its NOT okay. Damn it Nora, I hurt you. I called you names. I used you like, like," Vic trailed off, completely at a loss. "Like I was Marissa," Nora replied. She looked at the shocked expression on Vic's face. "I knew it was probably going to be rough," she said thoughtfully, "But I must say that I didn't expect it to get quite as rough as it did. Still," she looked at Vic, "It did work." "What are you talking about? What worked? The sex?" "No, you goose," Nora looked at Vic with an expression that mixed equal parts of affection and exasperation. "The sex was actually my last resort. Not that there weren't parts of it I really enjoyed," Nora added as an afterthought. "But the whole purpose of this was to break down that damn wall you hide behind. Vic stared at Nora like she had lost her mind. The other woman plowed on. "Its funny about online friends. All you have to go on are their words. there are no facial expressions, no voice inflections, no body language. None of the clues you use in real life to determine a person's feelings. At the same time, there's nothing to distract you from their words. Vicky, you are one tough butch, and you show your feelings about as much as the average Southern redneck I know." She grinned and then turned serious again. "When you started seeing Marissa, a side of you that I knew was there burst out. You were open and laughing and so damn excited, and in love. I was happy for you, you're a sweet person. Yes, you are, don't look at me like I have two heads. Then I got news of the breakup. Davia told me you acted like it didn't bother you at all. I got worried because I was sure you were swallowing your emotions up and knowing you, you'd let them eat you alive before you shared them. You were back in your shell and I knew I'd have to do something to break it and let the hurt out." "So I broke my number one rule and came up here. And you really scared me. You were so damn quiet and relaxed and well, shit Vicky, butch. So I took a drastic step and put on that teddy. And it worked. You smashed that shell to pieces. I confess, I didn't expect you to get that carried away. But I'm glad you did because you finally fell over the edge and let your anger and grief out. There's only one thing..." "What?" Vic held her breath. Nora's face had turned grim and Vic thought "Oh GOD, I did something that really injured her." "I think you have permanently put your hand prints on my ankles when you tried to split me in half. One more thrust Vicky, and I think you would have had to make a wish. They both exploded in laughter and hugged each other. When they calmed down, Nora smiled at Vic. "I have some bumps and bruises but nothing serious. Really. In fact, you were in a world of your own, but I came twice during that little therapy session." She giggled. "However I think any curiosity I've ever had about being a sub has been answered forever." She touched Vic's face with her fingertips. "Now then, you go to sleep." "Will you be here when I wake up?" Vic asked curiously. "Probably not," Nora replied. "I have to get home and its a long drive. I'll catch a nap and get on the road." She leaned over and kissed Vic on the cheek. "Sleep." When Vic woke, the sun was brightly shinning. She was alone in the bed. She listened. The apartment was silent. She took a shower and wandered downstairs. There were two items on the kitchen counter, one a piece of paper. She picked them up and read the letter. "Hey sexy." It started and Vic smiled as she recalled Nora's greeting in the chat room. "You'll be okay Vicky. And yes, you'll still be Vic, because that's who you are. Someone will come into your life who will be a keeper. It's not me, you've always known that I have someone in my life. Just this once I stepped away from that person to help a friend. I know that you understand that I will never be back, and when I get home I will throw away your phone number. If we see each other in the chat room, or anywhere else for that matter, we'll smile and say hello and walk away. You WILL have a good life, Vicky. I promise." The letter was simply signed "Nora". Apparently Nora had come back to write the P.S., as it showed signs of having been hastily added on. "By the way, here's a souvenir for you. Kisses." Vic grinned, her heart lighter. She held up the black lace teddy and laughed. (The End) Solace Sighing, she gently placed the flute back in its velvet case. After putting on her jacket, she picked up the case and her purse and moved toward the door. Her solo had gone well and was perhaps one of the best parts of the concert. It was a shame nobody she knew was there to hear it. Her fingers stroked the velvet of the flute case absently. She had hoped someone would have taken an interest in her performance and had shown up to hear her play. She resigned herself to the fact that that's the way things were, regardless of how she felt about it. She steeled herself against the idea of going home to an empty apartment once again. "Allison!" someone called out. She looked around, surprised at the sudden outburst. She thought that all of her "friends" were at her ex-husband's apartment. That's where they always seemed to be. So who...? Through the throng of people, she finally saw Michael rushing toward her. As his familiar face approached her, her spirit lifted. "Michael!" she said, hugging him as he came closer. "I'm so glad you came!" Michael grinned and returned the embrace. "You know I wouldn't miss it," he said. She broke away from him, looking up into his brown eyes expectantly. "So? What'd you think?" "Are you kidding?" he exclaimed. "It was awesome. I haven't been to a concert like that in a long time. You weren't too shabby yourself, either." "Thanks." She paused. "I'm really glad you came." Michael's eyes scanned the crowd, searching. "Where's everyone else?" She felt her heart wrench. "They're all probably at Richard's apartment," she said softly. Michael turned to her, his expression changing from inquiry and happiness to concern. "I'm sorry, Allison," he said quietly. She shrugged, trying to fight away the sadness. Not here, she thought. Michael came, and that's something. "It's no big deal," she said dismissively. "I didn't think they would." Michael took a deep breath. "Well," he said, "then I guess we'll go to your apartment." She nodded. "That sounds like a plan. I'm sure it was a pretty long trip for you. Did you find this place alright?" Michael's cheeks flushed. "I had to make a few U-turns, but I'm here." She couldn't help grinning. * "Do want to talk about it?" Michael asked later. He had followed her home in his car, and after helping her bring her things inside, he had sat down on the couch while she changed into a pair of blue jeans and a deep red button-up blouse. He had dressed up a little, in black slacks and a black and white satin-like shirt. She knew that he had never been one to dress up much, but when he put some effort into it, he didn't look half bad. "You don't want to listen to me rant," she said, sitting down on the couch beside him. She had poured a small glass of wine for herself, and set the glass on the coffee table. "You know I'll always listen to you," he said, "whatever you have to say." She sighed. "You're the only one I heard from, the only one who seemed to care," she said. The hurt threatened to consume her again, but she kept it in check. Michael was willing to listen to her, and she didn't want to scare him away. "You're talking about the concert?" She nodded. "It was important to me, and nobody took any interest in it." "I've noticed things like that happen to me, too, with our friends," he said. "Even when Richard and I were married, nobody seemed to care. The only reason that I talked to anyone was because they were his friends. Now that we're divorced, their actions have just confirmed what I had been thinking for a long time." "I hate to say it," Michael said, hesitating, "but you two never did seem to be very close. Your divorce honestly doesn't surprise me too much. I'm sorry for you, you know that, but maybe it's for the best." "It took me awhile to realize it, myself," she continued. "I thought that it was just a phase that he was going through, the distance, the way he just didn't seem to care about me or anything I did. As the months and years passed, though, nothing changed. I just couldn't take it anymore." "It's only been a couple of months since you two separated, right?" "Yeah," she said. She dropped her gaze, looking at her glass of wine. "I had been thinking hard on it for awhile, though. I think we'll keep close, but I just didn't love him the way that I did when we were first married." She chuckled to herself. "I'm sorry you have to hear this." He shook his head and waved a hand dismissively. "If it makes you feel better, let it out. I'm not going anywhere. It's a hell of a drive back to my place." "I know, and I can't tell you how much your coming up means to me. It's sad that a lot of the people that I invited live right here and don't seem to care, but you drive hours just to come up on a whim. It's not right!" "I told you I'd be up, and here I am," Michael said. "I don't have much of a life, anyway. It's no big deal for me to drive up here 'on a whim,' as you put it. But I see your point." "It's all so unfair," she said quietly. They sat there in silence, the minutes sliding by slowly. She wasn't sure how many passed. He seemed to be waiting for her, but she just couldn't think of anything to say. She knew that he didn't fully understand her thoughts, having never been married himself, but he was a good listener. She looked up to see him watching her. She picked up the glass of wine and took a sip. She could sense something hanging between them, something different. What was it, though? Maybe she was imagining things. Too much wine, probably... "I'm sorry I'm not much help to you," Michael said, interrupting the silence. It was almost as though he could read her thoughts. She shook her head. "It's alright. At least you're listening to me. I don't have many people that even do that," she said sadly. She took another drink of wine. "So, what are you going to do now?" he asked slowly. She took a deep breath, sorting out her answer to his question. "I don't know," she finally answered. "I want kids sometime. My sister already has two, and she's two years younger than me. I couldn't do it with Richard; he wasn't ready. I don't think I'm unattractive, either, so maybe things will come around." No, she knew she wasn't unattractive. Her hips may have been a little larger than what she'd like, but she was still slender and firm in the right places. She stood about five-and-a-half feet tall, with lightly tanned skin and shoulder-length dark brown hair. She had never been one to wear much makeup, but she still bore a soothing and pretty aura. "I'll think about you," Michael told her, interrupting her thoughts. "I know it might take awhile, so if you want to rant about it, you know you'll always have an open ear with me." "I know," she said. He may not have been the best person that she could talk to, but his presence was still soothing. She looked back at him, his face impassive, seeming to be thinking something. "So," he began slowly, "what was it, really? Why'd you leave him?" She picked up her glass of wine and held it, looking at the ruby liquid sparkle. "A lot of things," she said. "He just didn't seem ready for anything that I was hoping for. We couldn't really see eye-to-eye on much; different goals, I guess. I want so much more, and he seemed comfortable to stay where we were. None of our interests matched, he never really paid much attention to me, so many things. It wasn't just about children." She sighed. "I'm not sure you want to hear this, but do you have any idea how long it had been since we had made love?" She could tell that she probably shouldn't have asked that. His face turned red with embarrassment, his hallmark trait. He took it well, though. "How long?" he asked. "A year. We hadn't made love in almost a year." She couldn't keep the hurt, disappointment, and bitterness out of her voice now. Every word seemed to ooze with her feelings. "I'm only twenty-five years old, and I know that that isn't right," she said, almost desperately. She forced herself to calm down, taking deep, steadying breaths. "He just didn't seem to care anymore. He'd come home and wouldn't do much of anything, that included." She sighed. "I know that some of this is trivial, but, in the end, I don't think either one of us was happy." "I wish there was something I could say," Michael said softly. "I can see how much this is upsetting you." She could feel a tear streaming down her cheek. The cool wetness surprised her, and sniffing, she wiped it away. She wasn't one to cry much, over anything really. Maybe this was hurting her more than what she had thought. "We'll always be close," she said. "He's a good man, a good friend. He just wasn't a very good husband." Michael shifted closer to her and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. He pulled her into his chest, and the tears that had been trying to leak out of her eyes suddenly flowed freely, the dam shattered. She wrapped her arms around him, her sobs racking her body. He didn't say anything, and she was glad for it. She just needed comfort, not words or help or excuses. Somewhere below her sorrows, she could feel his hand stroking her back and hear his lips uttering nonsense whispers. She accepted them all gladly, the hurt of being alone again suddenly crashing into her. The tears gradually stopped flowing, her chest started aching, and her breathing soon slowed. The storm had passed for the moment. She still clung to her rock, though, afraid of being swept away by the tempest once again. As her thoughts cleared and her mind came back to shore, she could hear Michael's words breaking through the clouds. "It'll be alright," he was saying. "Just let it go, Allison. I'm not going anywhere." She cradled into his embrace, pulling in his whispered words like water. They were comforting words, without judgment and recommendations. She slowly, almost reluctantly, pulled away from him. She couldn't hide the embarrassment from letting herself lose control so easily. It was still hard to believe that this had been affecting her so much. Five years wasn't that long a time, was it? "I'm sorry," she said, unable to meet his eyes. "I didn't mean to break down like that." "Like I said before," he said, still stroking her back, "if it makes you feel better, let it out." He paused. "Do you feel better?" She nodded, a smile coming to her. "Yeah, a little," she said. "Thank you so much. You don't know how much this means to me." Michael waved his hand. "It's no big deal. I can shut up and listen." She shook her head. "No, it is a big deal. I need someone that will listen to me, tell me it will be alright. I need to feel loved and needed. You're everything I need right now." The thought of them together suddenly popped into her mind, images filling her. Michael looked so much like Richard, a little shorter, but with deep brown eyes, unruly brown hair, and a slender body. Could she even do that with him? What possessed her to even think it? She couldn't believe that the thought of taking him into her bed even passed her mind. Her abstinence must be tougher on her than she thought if she had images of her and Michael sleeping together running through her mind. "Well, I'm glad," he said, oblivious to her thoughts. He paused. "Allison, are you okay? Really?" She nodded. "Yeah, I just had a weird thought, that's all. It's nothing." He leaned back into the couch's cushions, considering her. "Shoot," he said. She turned her gaze away from him to look back into her wine glass. She absently noticed that it needed to be filled again. How many glasses was that now? "No," she said, "you don't want to hear it." "Well, you opened your mouth, and I want to know. Spill it," he said with a grin. She shook her head, still unable to meet his gaze. "It was a stupid thought. The wine's getting to me, that's all. I won't bother you with it." His hand reached up and stroked her back. The thought of them together just didn't seem to want to go away, and the heat of his touch shot throughout her body. She relaxed against his hand, reveling in this caring gesture. "It's just been so long," she said softly. She didn't even realize that the words had passed from her lips until she felt his hand still against her back. She sat up and looked at him, afraid of what he'd say. How could she have let that slip out? What would he think? The sudden fear of him leaving blossomed in her mind, causing her heart to race. All Michael did was look at her though. He knew what she was talking about, she had no doubt. She met his gaze, fear coursing through her veins. It'll be alright, she thought. He'll blame it on the wine, and when he leaves, nothing will have changed. He's not going to run. He can't run. I need him too much for him to run. "I'm here for you," was all he said, resuming his strokes against her back. Her breath left her in a rush. Once again, he seemed to be reading her thoughts, and his response wasn't what she expected out of him. He could have said no. He could have left. Of all the things that he could have done, offering himself to her was not what she could see him doing. Not ever. No, she had heard wrong, she thought. The wine was affecting her ears now, too. He didn't just say what he had said. She fought for breath, the question coming out in a shallow whisper, almost strangled. "What did you say? Did I hear you right?" Michael's stroking hand expanded its field of exploration. His fingers traveled up to the nape of her neck, reaching under her hair to briefly stroke her skin. He then dropped down, skimming her body quickly, finally resting just above her waist. A scant inch further, and his hand would be caressing the sloping curve of her ass. "Yes," he whispered, his eyes following the path of his hand. "I know I may not be your ideal person, and this isn't the best thing that could happen. I know that I can handle this better, give you time, or walk out the door." He returned his eyes back to hers, his face once again turning a slight red. "But you don't look like that's what you want me to do." As he talked, he had sat up to lean closer into her. Surprise, apprehension, and anticipation had kept her still, awaiting his advance against her. As his face drew closer to hers, she could smell the crisp scent of mint on his breath, the scent of the shampoo and soap he used, and a scent that was purely male. Her tongue flicked out, wetting her suddenly-dry lips. Her heart was starting to race, the moment closing in on her and blocking out all other thoughts. She couldn't help the small, almost imperceptive shake of her head. "I do want you to stay tonight," she said softly. All thoughts besides Michael had indeed left her now; except one. "What about Richard?" "What about Richard?" Michael asked, his voice a whisper against her, his breath a seductive breeze that caressed her skin. "He's miles away and not someone you have to worry about anymore. I'm here for you, whatever you want. It's your choice, and you don't have to have any reservations about it. You're a young, beautiful, passionate woman, Allison." He paused, his lips close to her...so temptingly, tantalizingly close. "Do you want me to go?" Her tongue seemed to snake out on its own, wetting her lips that had once again gone dry. He was actually willing to stay with her, to touch her, to make love with her. She was a grown woman, single, and didn't have to worry about what Richard thought anymore. This step, though, was something that she hadn't taken in a pretty long time. Could she do it? Could she accept what Michael was offering her: just one night of forgetfulness? She felt the tear trickle down her cheek, seeming to answer the question for her. She couldn't spend another night alone. She needed to feel a man's touch again, even if it was only for tonight, and even if she was using him. She needed to feel loved, wanted, just for a little bit. "Do you want me to go?" he repeated. His head had drawn closer to her, his lips just slightly brushing against her cheek as he whispered the words. God help her, he felt so good against her skin. "Do you?" "No," she said. She didn't care if it did sound like pleading, begging. If only for tonight, she'd be able to forget about the lonely life she suddenly found herself in. The hand Michael had against her lower back rose higher, pulling her body closer to him. His other hand moved up to stroke her cheek, the pads of his fingers running over her skin gently, turning her face up to his. Her tongue flicked out and wet her lips one last time before his lips came down against her. As his lips began to claim her, she wrapped her arms around him, imprisoning his body against hers. One hand moved around his back, holding him. Her other hand reached up to gently grip the back of his head, forcing their lips to stay together. It had been over five years since she had known another man's touch other than Richard's. Her senses dived into the ocean Michael provided. She reveled in the feel of his body against hers. She cherished the feel of the muscles of his back as she caressed him. She felt as though she'd melt with desire as the heat of his hand traveled up and down her back, his fingers exploring her body through her blouse. How she had missed these touches, this heat, this rising desire. Her heart felt as though it would explode in her chest, and her womanhood began to throb in anticipation. God, how she needed this! His kisses were gentle and soft at first, as though he was afraid of hurting her or scaring her away. She liked the gentleness of it, the slow progression to something greater. She let Michael dictate the pace of their kiss, hoping he'd realize how much she needed him right now. In an effort to let him know, she gripped his neck a little tighter, trying to pull him a little closer. He obeyed her whim and lightly dipped his tongue into the warm cavern of her mouth. Feeling his tongue gently stroke against hers sent shocks throughout her body. She hadn't felt those shocks in so long, and the need for more drove her. Their bodies embraced each other tighter, their tongues rubbing and stroking against each other as their once-timid kiss became passionate and fervent. She didn't need to smell the mint on his breath now. She could taste it as his tongue probed into her, swirling and twisting with hers in a dance that threatened to topple both of them over the edge. Time didn't exist there in that world. Sound was limited to sighs and swallowed moans as their kiss continued. Michael's hand pulled her head closer, deeper into the kiss just as surely as she was doing to him. Neither one wanted to go, she knew. It felt too good to end. As their tongues probed and thrust against each other, their hands continued to explore. She couldn't help moving a hand down to grip his arm, holding him tightly. Michael's arm moved down agonizingly close to her ass, but swerved around to her front to briefly caress her thighs. He then moved up her body, and she could feel her nipples harden in anticipation. His hand took its time, exploring every inch of the soft plane of her stomach through her blouse. Finally, he continued upward, his fingers hovering just below the underside of her breasts. She vainly moved her body, eager to feel his touch against her, but Michael was taking his time. She knew that he was teasing her, searching for all of the slopes, curves, and valleys that he could reach. She contented herself with feeling his lips pressed against hers, their tongues dueling against each other as the kiss continued unabated. Finally, finally, his hand slid up to wrap around her straining breast. The feeling of his palm against her nipple through her bra and shirt sent an electric bolt down to her womanhood. She couldn't help gripping his head tighter, devouring his lips just as surely as he devoured the sudden gasp that had exploded from her at his touch. With each shift of his hand, a new part of her breast was stroked, the bolts of passion now firing rapidly throughout her entire body. Her back arched into his caress, her body silently begging for more of this pleasure. Solace Michael's hand released its grip on the back of her neck, moving down her body. How she wanted to feel both of his hands against her breasts, massaging their flesh. He continued to move down, though, over her ribs and across her stomach, finally resting on her hips. He pulled away from her lips, leaving her breathless, confused, and aroused. She looked at him, knowing that he could see the need in her eyes. The hand at her breast never stopped moving, gripping her nipple through the fabric, lightly tugging at the turgid nub. She leaned forward, her eyes closed, hoping her lips would find his once again. He left her breast and moved to her shoulder, lightly barring her from him. What? Why? Why now? She needed this, wanted this, even more than the air she struggled to pull into her. She opened her eyes to look at him, searching his face for the answers to her question. He didn't say anything, just brought both hands down to grip her waist. Yes, she thought happily, I'll do that gladly. Resting her hands on his shoulders, she let him pull her above him to straddle his waist as he leaned back into the couch's cushions. She shifted her hips, feeling his hardened manhood press into her. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back slightly, remembering the pleasure of a hard cock as it pressed into her loins. Michael kept still as she ground herself against him, the heat from his hands at her waist warming her body. Well, if he was going to let her do what she wanted, she thought, then she'd take advantage of his offer. She straightened herself and looked into his eyes. She moved her hands off his shoulders and down over his chest. Her hands continued down his torso, feeling him through the shirt that still covered him. She leaned forward and opened her mouth against his, coaxing his tongue back into her, resuming the heated kiss that he had so rudely interrupted. When she felt his hands reach around her to rest softly against the curve of her ass, she let out a soft moan against him. His tongue claimed her mouth, his hands claimed her flesh, and his passion would soon claim her soul. She couldn't believe that this was really happening, but she wasn't about to stop it. She broke the kiss and sat back up, looking down at him. He had a small grin on his face, as though he was expecting her to do something. His hands started to gently move against her ass, and she could feel him lightly thrust his hips into her, begging. She reached a finger down to press against his lips, stilling his movements. It would be soon enough. For now, though, she wanted to enjoy this. After all, it'd be the only chance she would have for God-knew-how-long. After his hips and hands stilled against her body, she returned his smile. Slowly, her heart fluttering at what she was about to do, she moved her hands up to the buttons of her blouse. She watched him as, one by one, she undid the constraints. As each button was undone, an inch of pristine white skin was revealed to his gaze. The cool air of the room wasn't enough to dull the heat that she felt as his eyes roved over her bare flesh. After the last button was undone, she took off the garment and threw it over her shoulder, forgetting it immediately. All that concealed her breasts from Michael's hot gaze was the thin nude-colored fabric of her bra. Michael sat up, his eyes wide with emotions that she could only guess at. She watched him as his gaze traveled from her shoulders, across the naked expanse of her chest, and then down to linger over the soft mounds of her breasts. His hands abandoned her ass to glide up her back. His grip tightened and she suddenly found herself being pulled back to his upturned face, his need obvious to her. She smiled at him before dipping her tongue once more into his mouth, their earlier kisses tame and unfeeling compared to this one. She didn't even realize when his hands left her back to skirt forward to her shoulders. She was surprised when she suddenly felt the straps of her bra being slowly pulled down her arms. She wanted to reach behind her for the bra's clasp, but the need to hold Michael against her outweighed the need to feel her body exposed to his gaze. She needn't have worried, though. Michael's hands soon returned to the middle of her back, his fingers fumbling a little with the hooks. As they were released and her bra was opened, the cool air that hit her heated flesh was just one more sensation that seemed to drive her mad. She wanted to grip the fabric in her hand, yank it off her body, and throw it away. She needed to feel his hands against her bare flesh, feel his fingers tease and stroke her skin. She couldn't let go of him, though, her arms seemingly glued behind his back to hold him to her questing mouth. She let his hands do the work then, and the bra was soon discarded to someplace that didn't exist. He still toyed with her though, wrapping his arms around her naked body to hold her into his kiss. She would have screamed in frustration if her heart and body weren't enjoying this already. As Michael's hands slowly moved forward, she arched her back slightly, giving him room between their bodies. They both wanted him to touch her, to explore her, to caress and please her. When his hands finally wrapped themselves around her naked breasts, the touch was too much for her. She arched her back, breaking the kiss as his hands glided over her curves. His lips never strayed from her, skimming across her jaw on their journey down her neck. His tongue flickered over her pulse, teasing her. She could feel him draw a line with his tongue across her throat to flick over her other pulse-point. Those small beats had gotten faster as his hands, fingers, and mouth roved over her body, awakening feelings and desires that had long lay dormant within her. All too quickly, his mouth moved lower, pressing petal-soft kisses against her. Her back arched into his kisses, eager for where the next one would be placed. He skimmed across her shoulders and collar-bone, every inch of her skin being touched. He moved down slowly, taking his time with each sensitive portion of flesh he came across. She held his head against her, feeling him move over her body. It was almost as though he was worshipping it, she thought. She didn't even realize how close he was to her breasts. Her mind had been lost since he first cupped them in his hands. Now, he gently lifted them up to his mouth, the heat of his kisses wrapping around her like a blanket. As he tasted her, she cried out softly at the sensations that blossomed within her. She could feel the liquid heat of his tongue as he suckled and toyed with her nipples, could feel the firm grasp of his hands as he massaged and squeezed the tender mounds, and could feel the rasp of his air as he breathed against her skin. Her mind floated, unfocused and hazy, as the feelings of Michael's touch worked their way through her entire body. As his hands and mouth worshipped her pliant flesh, she couldn't help feeling beautiful, feminine, and wanted. She could say all the words that she wanted to, claim that she was beautiful and passionate. She realized, though, that words were shallow and pointless unless there were actions to support them. She had felt that she was attractive; now she knew that she was attractive. She couldn't help marveling at the realization as Michael's touch wandered over her, gentle yet firm, hot and arousing. This man thought that she was beautiful. Being in his arms, she felt that way, too. She slowly pulled his head away from her, her nipples aching in protest as the coolness of the air stabbed into her. She took one final chance to look at Michael's eyes reverently before she stood up in front of him and offered her hand to him. Silently, he took it and she led him down the hall to her bedroom. Her breasts ached to be touched, her pussy throbbed to be satisfied, and her heart beat viciously in anticipation. Now, she didn't care if there was no prelude or tenderness. He could sink himself into her as soon as they climbed onto the bed, and she'd cry out at its pleasure. If there was some foreplay, she'd welcome it gladly, of course; it just didn't have to be a requirement. She stood in front of the bed as Michael turned to shut the door behind him. When he turned around, she felt elation at what stood before him. She had taken those few precious seconds to pull off her jeans and underwear, her naked body now revealed to his gaze. She could see him swallow hard as his eyes moved down her body. He skimmed over her breasts with their hard, turgid peaks. He ran over the smoothness of her stomach. He was tangled in the small patch of dark pubic hair that crested her pussy. He dipped into that glistening crevice at the apex of her thighs. He fell down the length of her legs, sighing all the while. She pulled his eyes back up to hers as she slowly sat back on the bed, waiting for him. Wordlessly, she watched him frantically take of his clothes in his eagerness to catch up to her nakedness. His chest was bare, his stomach firm and tight. As he lowered his jeans, she could see the thickness of his cock as it pulsed with arousal. As his manhood was finally revealed to her gaze, she could see it arch up, as though searching for something. Her pussy clenched in anticipation of giving it what it sought. Michael climbed onto the bed and knelt between her legs, his gaze traveling once more down the length of her body. She laid back against the pillows, opening herself, her body warm from his heated gaze. As his eyes lingered over the twin mounds of her breasts, she arched her back up, presenting them to him. As his eyes skirted over her stomach, she shifted her hips, feeling the muscles flex inside her. As his eyes bore into her womanhood, she spread her legs subtly further apart, showing him the swollen, glistening lips of her pussy. As his eyes fell once again down her legs, she moved them seductively, glad at his sharp intake of air. He relaxed his posture, sitting on his haunches, his cock now proudly jutting up from his body, strong and firm. She gazed at it, watching the clear drop of precum form at its tip. A sudden need blossomed inside her, then, a need that she didn't think was possible in her. Staring at his cock, she slowly rose up and kneeled in front of him, gently grasping his hardness in her hand, feeling its heat against her. As she bent down closer to it, she could feel the silken touch of his fingers wander through her hair and down her back, just as surely as she felt the silken skin of his shaft as she slid over its length. It was so close. The closer she got, the more heat she could feel from it. Her mouth watered, need overwhelming her inhibitions and reluctance. She had never really enjoyed taking a man into her mouth, and Richard had never seemed to care if she did or not. Now, though, she had to taste Michael, had to feel his heat against her tongue, and feel his cock fill her mouth. Firming her grip on his cock, she lightly licked off the clear drop at its tip. She was pleased at Michael's gasp above her, but she had to taste this heat. Without a word and with no prelude, she bowed her head and engulfed his shaft. As she pulled more of his length into her mouth, she felt Michael's fingers weave through her hair, holding her against him. Normally, she minded when a guy did that, but not this time. She could taste his heat, his desire, his need, and she sucked on him strongly, greedily. She began bobbing her head, feeling him slide in and out the slick cavern of her mouth. She pulled off of him completely, lavishing his length with soft kisses and teasing licks before swallowing him again. She couldn't get enough of him, her sucks demanding, her tongue wandering over his length, her grasp firm and unrelenting. She could hear Michael's ragged gasps above her, which only served to drive her on. Her free hand played with the twin sacs at his base, feeling them writhe and move between her fingers. Somewhere, distantly, she could hear her own moans of pleasure mixed with the gentle slurps of her mouth as she feasted on his hardened member. She had almost forgotten what a man tasted like, and she dined eagerly, her mind forgetting her disgust and remembering the pleasure of it. Ultimately, though, sucking his cock wasn't what she wanted. Her womanhood throbbed with need. With a final loud slurp, she pulled off of Michael's cock and rose in front of him. Spreading her legs, she climbed above him and straddled his thighs. He still sat on his haunches, and his cock stuck out from his body, steady and pulsing. She looked in his eyes, seeing the same lust that burned in hers. Gently holding his shaft steady, she eased her body over him, feeling his tip slide against her feminine lips. When his hands snaked under her to firmly grip the full womanly globes of her ass, she wrapped her other arm around his shoulder, holding herself against him. With their bodies pressed together, their rapid breaths mingling in the cool air between them, and the heat of their loins rubbing against each other, she knew that she would have no regrets in the morning. Never breaking their gaze, she lowered herself onto him. She gasped out as his manhood penetrated her slick tunnel, and the desire to close her eyes and revel in its feel nearly took her. She was wet, wetter than she had been in a very long time, and her body eagerly accepted this heated invader. Her walls clenched around him, milking him, begging him to fill her completely. With his cock now beginning its journey into her heated wetness, she wrapped both arms around his shoulders, holding him to her. Slowly rising just a fraction, she lowered herself once again, feeling him delve deeper inside her. It had been so long, and her eyes finally closed as she absorbed the sensations of a man inside her once again. Rising one last time, she pushed herself down hard, finally feeling his cock completely fill her throbbing womanhood. With his body firmly enclosed inside her, she leaned down, eager to claim his lips once again. He met her passion, their tongues caressing and rubbing against one another. As their kiss turned demanding and heated, her desire to hold still and bathe in his touch left her. She now remembered the feeling of a man entering her, claiming her. Now she wanted to remember what it was like for a man to move inside her, taking her. Flexing her legs, she began to raise and lower herself upon him. Michael's cock moved in and out of her with ease, her tunnel slick with her fluids. She broke their kiss as her head arched back, her mind empty of everything except his body sliding against hers. She could feel him bend down and begin to feast on her breasts once again, and she cried out at his touch. As Michael's hands at her ass firmed their grip, she let him move her, lifting and dropping her at his own speed, his need rough and demanding. Caring and gentle or mindless and rough, she didn't care; a man was in her bed once more. Sweat covered their bodies, their skin glistening with its moisture. Ragged gasps filled the air around them. The coolness of the room was forgotten as the heat of their passion threatened to burn them alive. She was using him, and it felt so good to remember this touch and forget her loneliness. Michael was letting her use him, and it felt so good for a man to give himself to her, to make her feel beautiful and wanted. She couldn't help the tears that began to leak from her closed eyes, but she didn't bother wiping them away, her thoughts focused on the feeling of the man beneath her. Michael suddenly leaned forward and she fell back on the bed. In this knew position, his knees dug into her back, her hips risen up to his still-thrusting cock. With no body to wrap her arms around, her hands mindlessly grasped her breasts, mauling the flesh, pulling and twisting her nipples. The sensations shot straight to her clenching pussy, feeding her coming orgasm. Michael's cock dug into her, firmly rubbing the ceiling of her tunnel. One hand grasped her hip, the other wandering to rub and caress the sensitive bud of her clit. Her legs wrapped around his waist, holding him prisoner as he claimed her body, his moans and gasps filling her ears. Her movements were restricted, her thrusts up against Michael's manhood shallow and glancing. Michael's thrusts were also shallow, but her body burned with their touch, his cock glancing right over her inner-most pleasure point, rubbing against it with each thrust of his hips. With his hand moving firmly and rapidly over her clit, her mind was hazy and floating in a world of nothingness, her passion quickly rising to the breaking point. "I want to feel you cum inside me, Michael," she blurted out. Instinctively, she knew that it would be alright, even though her mind screamed against such a chance. She didn't care, though. She wanted to remember a man pulse inside her, wanted to remember the feeling of a man's cum coating her inner walls. Never pulling out of her clenching tunnel, somehow Michael moved to lie on top of her. His thrusts were urgent and rapid, his cock pistoning in and out of her vagina vigorously. Wrapping her arms and legs around him again, she arched her back into his body, feeling their nipples rub against once another, feeling her body accept the entire length of his shaft. She could feel his cock expanding, could feel his body tightening, and could feel his orgasm come to him. A deep thrust, then another, and finally, one last push against her cervix, and he held himself still inside her, his orgasm suddenly washing over their combined bodies. She felt the explosions of his cum erupt from his head, bathing her cervix and inner walls with his release, penetrating into her womb. She heard him cry out as his seed was released into her body, and his cry touched her deeper than she would have thought. Crying out, loud and mindless, her walls clenched around him, her own passionate fluids bursting from her body in a rush. Her arms tightened their grip around his back, her legs tightened their grip around his buried hips, and her vaginal walls tightened their grip around his invading, pulsing cock. As her cum mixed with his, flooding her tunnel and leaking out of her body, she couldn't help the second powerful orgasm that came from her. All the longing, all the frustration, all the need, and all the pent-up passion that had dwelled inside her body for the last year rushed out of her in the form of her orgasmic fluids. She barely registered when Michael's cock stopped pulsing inside her; all she knew was that a man had finally wanted her once again. As Michael slowly withdrew from her passage, her body relaxed into a state of fatigue. So much energy had been put into this passionate interlude, more than what she had expected, and more than what she had been able to handle. When Michael got off of her to lie down beside her, she didn't even think about calming down against him, feeling his heart slow down against her cheek. She just snuggled herself into her chest, placed a light kiss on his nipple, and sighing, let sleep take her. Her body was content, and now that she knew she could be passionate, sexy, and wanted, her mind relaxed into oblivion. * Michael lightly stroked Allison's arm as she slept, feeling her deep breaths move over the still-sensitive skin of his nipple. He was glad that she had found release in his arms, though he was still surprised that she had actually wanted to be with him in the first place. He knew that they might make love again in the morning, and he was content with that. He knew that he'd have to leave her in the morning to go home, and he was content with that. He knew that despite tonight, it would probably never happen again, and he was content with that. He was even content with the secret knowledge that it had been Richard's name she had cried out in the throes of her orgasm, not his. Solace Deceased: Victoria L. Darrow Sex: Female Age: 27 years Time of Death: November 5, 2010, 10:30pm Sarah glanced at the clock on the tiled wall. It was nearing midnight. She turned back to the body on the stainless steel table. Victoria had been a beautiful girl. Her long, dark hair lay in wet curls around her head like a wild halo. Red lipstick smeared her plenteous lips. Mascara from her thick lashes streaked down her cheeks, it's black matching the filmy dress clinging to the curves of her body. From the look of it, it would have had been revealing even before it was soaked by rain and blood. Sarah's eyes slid to the crimson stain that spread across the girl's left side. Victoria had been broadsided while driving home from work and had died at the scene. Sarah hoped, as she often did in cases like this, that she'd never seen her end coming -- that the poor girl was here one moment, then simply whisked away somewhere better the next. "I'm sorry, Victoria." Sarah murmured into the silence as she began to carefully remove a ring from her finger. She placed the ring into a box that held other things once belonging to Victoria; a pair red five-inch heels, a matching red clutch, a sparkling ruby heart charm on a broken necklace chain. Victoria clearly had an affinity for red. As Sarah began the delicate, regrettable task of cutting Victoria's dress free of her body, she imagined the kind of life Victoria might have lived. She noted the racy red panties that peeked out beneath the dress as she cut. They were the kind a woman wore for someone else to see, the kind a woman wore for someone else to take off. A few small bruises high on Victoria's inner thigh did not appear to have resulted from the crash. Sarah leaned closer. They looked like small bite marks. Hickies? Perhaps left behind by the overzealous mouth of a lover? Sarah felt a twinge of envy. She had known a few lovers in her life, but none with that kind of passion. Even in death, Victoria was marked by her lover. Sarah was reminded it had been some time since she had been marked by anyone, if truly ever. Lately, she'd spent most evenings locked away in the sterile rooms of her family's funeral home, working late into the night, having one-sided conversations with corpses. She wasn't sure how she had let herself slip into such a lonely life. Sometimes she felt scarcely more alive than the company she kept -- merely breathing amongst the dead. "It's easier this way," she thought. "Safer too. At least I know what to expect from one minute to the next. Not like poor Victoria, here." Sarah finished with Victoria and wheeled her body into a large refrigerated room. She would wait to do anything further until she had spoken with the family tomorrow morning. She scooped up the box of Victoria's things on her way out of the morgue. She rode the elevator from the basement and wound her way through a series of hallways and doors that led to the wing of the house where she and her family lived. When she was a child, the other children teased her because her home was also a mortuary. In truth, she realized later, they were scared of her. She'd learned to adapt to the outcast way of life early on. Unlike her school-age peers, she had looked to her home as a place of refuge and retreat. The Bennett Manor Funeral Home was a stately, historic Victorian that sat on the edge of town. Her family of undertakers had resided there for the last century. The manor was a work of art all its own, full of ornate woodwork, stained glass and antiquities. It was as macabre as it was magnificent. Sarah basked in its stillness. The rest of her family was on vacation. She had volunteered to stay, knowing that a holiday with her parents wouldn't have proven to be much of a vacation at all. Besides, she liked the peace. She stopped by the entrance to the office and stood at the door, fingering the key to unlock it. Procedure was to place the deceased's belongings inside for safe keeping until the family arrived to retrieve them. "Maybe, just this once," she murmured to herself, returning the keys to her pocket instead and ascending the regally engraved mahogany staircase to her bedroom. Sarah set the box on her bed and stepped back, unbuttoning her blouse. She shed the rest of her clothes on the way to the bathroom. Catching a glimpse of herself in a full-length mirror, she stopped and doubled back to look. "Not bad," she mused. Her body was voluptuous, not unlike the late Victoria's. Full breasts emphasized by a trim waist and curvy hips. Sarah opted for a lab smock instead of black, clingy dresses these days. "No wonder I don't get second looks. Why am I hiding?" she brooded. Tracing her hands up her sides, Sarah thought of how Victoria's skin had been warm not so long ago. Now she would never be able to embrace her lover again. Pity for Victoria rose up in her throat. Or perhaps it was the regret borne of her own body going untouched for so long that stung her eyes. Sarah let her hand drift down to the shadow of tight curls at the junction of her thighs. She left her fingers poised just above her tender spot, so neglected. She lingered there for only a moment before retreating to the shower. After toweling off and slipping into a white cotton chemise, Sarah perched herself on the edge of her bed and pulled the box into her lap. She had developed a burning curiosity about Victoria's life. Such a tragic end to such a vibrant life, or so she imagined. She withdrew the red purse and gingerly opened the clasp. Inside she found typical purse-things -- lipstick, a powder compact, a handful of colorful plastic credit cards. Amongst the cards, Sarah found a bright-eyed Victoria beaming up from the photo on her ID. There was also a small bottle of perfume inscribed with an unfamiliar but exotic sounding name. It smelled divine. She couldn't resist spritzing some onto her wrist, then the base of her neck. Amongst the rest of the clutter, Sarah saw a red light flash from Victoria's phone. The screen showed a new text message. Sarah paused, feeling guilty for snooping, but her fingers were quicker than her conscience, and a moment later she was reading the screen. Get home quick, baby. Been thinking about your sexy ass all day. This last message was from someone named Loren. Letting her curiosity get the best of her, she scrolled down to other messages. Most of them were from Loren. A text from that same morning read, Sorry I made you late. Couldn't resist how beautiful you looked...or how good you tasted. Sarah read on, feeling like a voyeur peeking in on the host of little intimacies exchanged between lovers. The mix of thrill and guilt Sarah experienced were to be expected. Something else was not. The more she read, the more arousal stirred within her, stretching itself out into her limbs like an animal awakening hungry from a prolonged hibernation. She pushed the box away and, sitting on her knees with Victoria's phone clutched in her hand, she spread her legs slightly to allow her free hand to fit between them. She began to stroke herself, slowly at first, teasingly, spreading her wetness between her fingers. She found pictures next, pictures Victoria had sent to Loren -- suggestive poses, some of them nude. Even better, Loren had returned the favor, sending Victoria similar pictures of himself. He was handsome, thick, dark hair, sharp-jawed, large brown eyes. Her entire sex spasmed in reaction to one particularly lurid image of his naked erection. Sarah laid the phone with the erotic picture on the bed in front of her. She leaned forward, straddling the bed and bracing herself on one arm to work her clit in increasingly frantic circles. She rolled her hips against her hand, imagining she was impaled upon the cock her eyes were hungrily fixed on. Loren's cock. Loren's magnificent cock. Sarah inhaled sharply between longing moans, sounding like static against the sound of the rain. The muscles in her stomach and thighs began to tremble. She fucked herself with her fingers while trying to read on. Loren - can't concentrate today... pussy is wet thinking of your cock in it last night. There was a pounding at the door downstairs. Startled, Sarah dropped the phone and jumped from the bed, her heart near thudding from her chest. It was not uncommon to have someone come to drop off a body at night, but normally she would have received a call first. She padded to the window and peeked out amongst the folds of brocade drapery. Someone stood on the open front stoop in the rain. She could see part of their outline. They were alone. No emergency vehicles, hearses. It wasn't a delivery. More pounding sounded. Sarah strained to get a better view. It was a man. She pressed her nose against the glass trying to get a better look when he turned and faced her. Loren froze. He hadn't seen her. He was scanning the first level. Her stomach did a somersault as she recognized his face. Loren. She jerked away from the window. "What the hell?" she thought, pacing by the bed. Panic welled up when saw Victoria's things scattered across her bed. This was not good. Unprofessional. What had possessed her? Best to let Loren leave. See him in the morning. She peered out the window again. He was sitting on the steps now, shoulders hunched over. Even in the rain, she could tell he was sobbing. Her heart softened as she watched him grieve. Sarah pulled on a robe and made her way downstairs to the entrance. She cinched the belt of her robe extra tight and paused to muster some composure before opening the door. He was still sitting with his back to her, but when he heard the door creak, he jumped to his feet. "Forgive me, I know it's late," he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. "But they told me she was here." He was soaking wet and clearly distraught. "Please, come inside." Sarah stepped aside and motioned him in. She knew very well what "she" he was referring to, but she calmly asked, "How can I help you? Who are you looking for?" He looked around bewildered. "They told me she was here," he repeated. "My Tori." His voice caught at her name and fresh tears spilled down his face. "Tori Darrow?" Sarah nodded and kept her voice calm, steady. "Yes, she was brought here earlier tonight. Her family will arrive tomorrow morning." "Oh God," he choked. He looked so pale. "Maybe you'd better sit for a moment. May I ask your name?" She led him to a wooden chair where he collapsed, holding his face in his hands. His body shook with silent sobs for a minute or two before he could answer her. "I'm Loren. She's my girlfriend. Or was..." He pressed his lips together, swallowing more tears. "She was supposed to be home hours ago. I called her work and she'd already left. I got a call shortly after - they said she was in an accident. They didn't even take her to the hospital." He seemed to become confused again, then looked directly into Sarah's eyes, "Have you seen her?" "Yes, Loren. I'm afraid I was the one to attend to her tonight. I would take you to her, but without prior consent from her family..." she trailed off, shaking her head. "I'm sorry." "I understand. Her family wouldn't likely give you permission anyway. They are still upset she moved in with me." He was shivering now, from a combination of the cold and the shock. Sarah turned toward the door. The rain was coming down so heavily now, it looked like someone was spraying a garden hose against all the windows. She couldn't send him back out. "I just can't believe this has happened." His face fell into his hands again. "Oh hell," Sarah decided, "I'm breaking all kinds of rules tonight. What was one more?" "Loren?" she said gently, "If you promise not to tell anyone -- I could get in a lot of trouble -- oh, just come with me. I'll let you see her." She offered him her hand. His face came up again, eyes red-rimmed, cheeks wet. It broke her heart to see it. Where was the beautiful Loren? The Loren from Victoria's cell phone pictures? He rose unsteadily to his feet and placed his slick palm in hers, gripping loosely. They made it three steps down the hallway. "Wait. I can't," Loren choked and pulled Sarah to a stop. "It might be best to wait if you can anyway," she offered quietly. "She'll look better at the funeral." He sighed and nodded slowly, then leaned against the hallway wall. She watched him look around at the house's paintings and sculptures. She realized he didn't want to leave. "Would you like to stay a little while? Let the rain die down? Maybe have a cup of coffee?" "Uh, yeah -- thank you...um?" "Sarah." She led him through the maze of a few dimly lit rooms and into the kitchen. She took his coat and excused herself to the laundry room just off the kitchen to throw it in the dryer. He was removing his shoes when she returned, which were squishy from the rain. She passed him on her way to the percolator, than leaned her back against the counter to face him at the table as the coffee began to brew. "Tell me about Tori -- if you don't mind." Folding his hands on the table, Loren sighed heavily. A hint of a smile cracked his somber face. "She was a fireball," he began, his eyes lighting up, "When I first saw her. She was making love to another man." Sarah drew her chin back in puzzlement, "Really?" "I was painting an apartment in Schoular Grove , which is the 'U' shaped building on the East end with the courtyard in the middle." Sarah nodded agreeably. She knew the place. "Well, something had caught my eye on the balcony of the apartment directly across from where I was working. Most of the balcony was hidden by a trellis, but I could still see the flash of red satin. Tori was leaning on the railing in this red dress. Her lover at the time, a much younger man, had come up behind her, lifted her dress, and took her right there in the open." Sarah's cheeks burned as he spoke. She couldn't imagine doing anything like that. "What did you do?" "I watched them through the window," he admitted. "But then I realized she knew I was watching. I could tell she liked it." He shook his head and chuckled. "She even winked at me when they were through." Sarah winced and giggled at the same time. Oh to be so utterly, beautifully shameless. "That can't be the end of the story," she prompted "So the next day," he chuckled again, "I look up from painting some baseboards to see a pair of stilettos, red of course, waiting for me to notice them in the open doorway. Tori had come to the apartment I was working in to introduce herself. She had always been bold and fearless like that. I was crazy about Tori from that very first day. I had never imagined someone could be so beautiful. So confident." He lowered his eyes to his hands and drew in a long breath. Sarah handed him a mug of coffee and settled in the chair next to him. "And then?" "We were inseparable after that. We couldn't get enough of each other. I hated every moment we were apart. The rest of my life became a collection of things I had to do. Spending time with Tori was what I wanted. I needed her. It wasn't long before I asked her to move in with me. With her in my life, I felt exuberant. Like I was intoxicated." She could see reality creep back into Loren's eyes, their brightness dimming and he gulped, his lips quivered. Sarah folded her hand over his and squeezed. He looked up at her. "What about you? Where's your fella at this hour?" Sarah returned her hand to her coffee mug and sipped. "There is no fella at the moment. My work schedule makes it hard for me to be available for any kind of a relationship." "Well that's a shame. Maybe you should consider adjusting your schedule?" "Maybe," she nodded, "listening to you now, I wonder if I may have been missing out. The relationships I have had lacked that kind of passion. Wrong people, wrong time perhaps." She drew in the last sip of her coffee. "I've know my fair share of women, but Tori was the only one like that for me. You have to remain receptive to it. You never know when fate..." Loren trailed off, gripping his empty mug. "How about I get us a refill?" He nodded as she slipped her finger into the handle of his cup. She stepped over the coffee pot, setting down both mugs to fill. She started when she bumped into Loren, who had swiftly come up behind her. He'd crept close to her and was inhaling deeply through his nose. "Loren, what are you doing?" "I'm sorry, I... you smell like her. Like Tori. I've been catching the scent of it all night. I thought it was in my head. It's not, is it?" "Le Fleur de Lis. Did she wear it too?" Another long sniff that made Sarah shiver. "Yes," he groaned, voice thick with desire and sadness. She felt his hand come to rest on her hip. "Loren?" she said softly, covering his daring hand with hers. "Do you...do you want to pretend? Just a little?" His answer was long in coming and when it did it was a strangled whisper, "Yes." She set the coffee cup she was still holding down onto the counter and reached up for the light switch. She flicked it off. In the dark, she turned into his arms and pressed herself against him. "Good, let's pretend." Committed though she was, she was unprepared for Loren's assault. Pure hunger, like nothing she'd experienced. It was as though he wanted to consume her entirely. She cowered back as he placed his hands on either side of her, trapping her between his body and the countertop. He bent his face close to her neck -- close enough so that she could feel the heat of his breath wash over her skin. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. A pulse between her legs echoed the increasing tempo of her heart. She'd never finished what she started earlier on her bed and the arousal returned with a rush. She braced herself against the counter. He pressed closer to her now, making no attempt to hide the erection stretching the front of his pants. "Do you mind if I," he murmured as he lowered his nose to the base of her neck and nuzzled her there. As he inhaled her deeply, she felt his hands move slowly from the counter to her waist, and then lower to her hips, where he gripped her firmly. Feeling his excitement pushed openly against her stomach was making her increasingly wet. Her courage began to unravel. This was insane wasn't it? Reality rushed back to her and objection rose in her throat. She raised her hands to his chest to push him away, but at the same moment, he pressed his mouth to hers, pushing his tongue between her lips. He kissed her hungrily, snaking his hands into her hair, bending her body to his. Thoughts of pushing him away evaporated. Instinct, hunger, need took over, and she wrapped her hands around his neck. Even if her better judgment was sounding off internal alarms, it just felt too damn good to stop him. It had been ages since she had been kissed, and it had never -- felt the way Loren was kissing her now. The sensations, the urges they brought were animalistic. The thoughts in her head began to collide into each other until all Sarah could focus on were these primal instincts -- the throbbing moistness of her sex, and the swelling length of him pressing against her. She heard a women's voice moan, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew it was hers. Loren's hands grabbed her ass and positioned her on top of the counter. His hands made quick work of undoing the belt of her robe and pushing it aside. He dragged his mouth from hers down to her jaw, leaving a frenzy of kisses all the way to her chest. Her erect nipples poked sharply out against the thin cotton fabric. He covered one with his mouth, grazing her with his teeth, at the same time moving his hand in between her still naked thighs. Without any panties to slow him, his fingers directly touched the liquid lust that had begun slipping down her legs. Solace 9:12 am Kristen pulled into the dealership mentally planning her day. Things had been so busy lately that she just hadn't had the time to drop the car off but she couldn't put it off any longer. She planned to leave her car for service, be driven home by the dealership courtesy service, and then use her husband's old car to run errands before the kids got out of school. She parked in the Service Entrance and collected all of her things before walking to the service desk. Kristen chastised herself for bringing so much with her when she just had to go home again anyway. The gentleman at the desk looked up at her arrival and said, "Hello, what can I do for you?" "I have an appointment to bring my Acadia in to have the transmission looked at," she responded politely as she put her book into her bag and reached for her keys that she threw in her purse out of habit not 30 seconds before. "It won't shift properly when I need power to pass so I can't trust it." The man said, "All-righty Ma'am, let me take the keys to go get some information from the vehicle and I'll be right back." He took the offered keys and disappeared back out the service door. Kristen stood waiting, still mentally organizing her day and consolidating all the loose crap she grabbed from the car into her bag. 10:27 am Brandon shut the door to his boss's office as he left their meeting and shook his head. Dang, I wish that guy would just let us do our jobs and stop micromanaging us at every turn. We'd get so much more done. He passed his co-worker's office on the way back to his own. Adam poked his head out, "What did he want this time?" Brandon smiled and turned back toward Adam's office. "Same old, same old. Just wrapping the Red Tape a little tighter, adding a couple more levels of bureaucracy, and ensuring that our projects take twice as long as they need to." This kind of management had been going on for so long that all the guys in the department laughed it off. Laugh or cry, right? "Want to catch lunch together later?" "Wish I could, Man. I've got back to back meetings all day beginning in about 15 minutes," said Adam. "Tomorrow then. Good luck today." And with a nod he left his friend leaning in the doorway and headed for his desk. Brandon pulled a granola bar from his desk drawer and decided to work through lunch. It would be good to get some of this stuff caught up. He pulled up to his computer, shook the mouse to wake it up and saw the alert just a moment before the automated system rang his cell phone and his desk phone simultaneously. "Shit," he muttered. So much for catching up he thought and began logging in to find the problem. 10:52 am Kristen checked her phone again for the time. She had read all her email, nothing important. She'd written out a list of Things to Do for today. She'd filed her nails, read two chapters in a book she doesn't like, and called her Mom. She reorganized her purse, again, and was ultimately glad that she'd brought all that stuff now. But she still had finally run out of things to do and had resorted to reading the new car brochures sitting on the table. "Ma'am? Jim should be here in just a few more minutes. He's returning from taking another customer home," the guy at the service desk said. "Sorry for the wait," he added, probably because she was beginning to look impatient. Kristen sighed, "Thanks," and, knowing it wasn't this guys fault the driver was taking so freaking long, gave him a small smile. 1:35 pm Kristen brought in the last of the groceries and set them on the counter. "Okay," she said to the cat, "I can get these put away and get the meat marinating for dinner before I get the kids. Right?" 2:15 pm Brandon sat back in his chair with a sigh. He's managed to get everything back up and running again with minimal impact to the customers but he'd spent the better part of his day doing it. He looked at his watch. He thought, No time to work on the project with the looming deadline but just enough time to prep for my presentation to the Directors at three. 6:09 pm Kristen had gotten the salad made and potatoes in the oven. The meat was marinating in the fridge waiting for Brandon to come home. She sat at the table helping her son with his homework while listening to her daughter practice piano. She loved moments like these. She wouldn't trade them for anything. But she was tired. Her day had not gone as smoothly as she had hoped. She put her elbow on the table and rested her head in her palm while her son worked out the last few problems of his long division homework. When Brandon walked in she startled. She hadn't heard his car pull in. He saw he had surprised her. "Sorry! Garage door was open. I guess you didn't hear me," he smiled warmly at her while he emptied his pockets into the tray on the counter. "Hi Dad!" their daughter shouted and ran in from the other room plowing in to Brandon and wrapping her arms around his waist. "Hey! How was your day? Was that you on the piano? That sounded good! Would you play some more for me?" With that, she ran off to finish her practice with a smile on her face. He greeted his son also but he was less enthusiastic than his sister. "What's wrong, Buddy?" he asked, coming around to see what homework was spread on the table tonight. "Math. It's hard. Long division and our teacher gave us so many problems!" he complained. Brandon took a look at what was left to do and said, "Aw, but look how much you've done! You only have two more. Why don't you finish them up while I get the meat on the grill?" Finally Brandon turned to his wife. They both looked at each other thinking the same thing. You've had a rough day, I see. He held up a finger to hold off any comments Kristen was about to make and he turned to get the tri tip from the refrigerator. When he returned again from the grill in the back yard he took her hand and without speaking lead her to the back of the house where their bedroom was. The kids, having finished their assignments, had moved to the couch and started a movie. Good kids, thought Brandon. Kristen went with him willingly although not entirely sure she had the energy to do anything but nap. She followed him through their bedroom door and to their bed. "Hey," he said softly to her. Brandon wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close. Kristen hugged him back with her hands behind his neck. She turned her face to his neck and breathed in deeply through her nose, taking in his scent. It was such a comfort to her. When he was gone on business she would sleep on his side of the bed so she could smell him on the pillows. It helped her to sleep when he was away. He squeezed tighter and lifted her enough to set her on the bed. Kristen sat back, pulled her legs up and laid back. Brandon sidled in next to her and pulled her close so that she lay on his chest with one leg draped over his thighs. Gently he rubbed her back. She listened to his heartbeat and his breathing in his chest. When Brandon spoke, she heard him loud and muffled through his chest even though he spoke quietly. "How did your day go?" he asked. She sighed before she answered, betraying her fatigue, "Oh, it was fine. Just long. My car will be in the shop for a week but the work is covered under the warranty. So that's good." As they talked about their day she began to draw little circles on his chest, occasionally dragging her thumb across his nipple. It hardened at her touch. He moaned softly and kissed the top of her head. Kristen turned her face to him then and he lowered again to kiss her lips. She was so warm and soft. He kissed her again. This time she moaned softly and she grabbed his bottom lip between her teeth. She ran her tongue across it before releasing it. Pushing herself up onto her elbow she kissed him again, harder, her tongue parting his lips and grazing the satin soft of the inside of his lips. And again, her mouth harder on his now, her tongue pushing, searching for his. She rolled toward him and began to trail those kisses, warm now with arousal, down his neck and his collarbone. She sat up on her knees tugging at the hem of his shirt to pull it up over his head. Brandon more than happily assisted and she continued to lick and kiss and nip her way down his chest. She detoured left to catch his nipple in her teeth. Then, hearing his sharp intake of breath, she flattened her tongue and licked to sooth it. Brandon's breathing became shallower as Kristen kissed her way down his belly, licking his belly button as she unfastened his pants. He rocked side to side to help her work the pants off his hips and watched, lips parted, as she continued her decent. She stopped at his erection, the heat of her breath warming his shaft while she studied him a moment. He flexed and his cock pushed up to her lips. It was hard and thick but the skin velvet soft against her lips. She closed her eyes and slowly grazed her mouth and nose along his length. At the tip a drip of clear fluid formed and she gently licked it off. She ran her right hand down his ribs and stomach to his cock where she wrapped her fingers snug around the base and, looking up at him, she closed her lips around the head and slowly pulled her mouth off again. She did it again; looked into his face and closed her warm wet mouth over his dick. Kristen flattened her tongue against the underside of the head and licked in small circles. Just at the tip. She watched, gauging Brandon's reaction. Satisfied at seeing the tension of the day melt away due to her efforts she looked away and turned her attention to the task at hand, so to speak. Kristen opened her mouth and took him whole; all the way to the base, and closed her lips over him before pulling slowly back to the tip. A low groan escaped Brandon's throat and he pushed his hips up to her. Kristen found those sounds he made empowering and arousing. She felt heat bloom low in her belly, a feeling that left her wet and wanting. She dropped down on him again. This time faster and when she closed her lips on his shaft this time she added a little suction, holding him snug in her mouth as she pulled up his length. She felt him firm up, getting slightly larger and harder as she sucked and teased him with her tongue and mouth. She kept at him with short quick strokes and added long, hard, slow strokes intermittently. Kristen's right hand cupped his balls and she could feel them as they pulled up close to his body. She stroked her finger along the soft skin behind his scrotum and when she did Brandon's hands flew to her head. His fingers wound into her hair holding her firmly to him as she continued her relentless sucking. Kristen sensed her husband was close to climax and gently squeezed his balls as she moved on him a bit faster. Brandon, however, had other plans and pulled his dick from her mouth and sat up to draw her to him. His kisses were urgent and hot. His tongue invaded and subdued her mouth. Brandon pulled his wife across his lap and entered her. She was so wet and ready for him he pushed into her easily and held himself a moment deep inside her. Her body pulsed once at the unexpected invasion and then relaxed around him. She felt tight and hot surrounding him, her muscles almost drawing him in. They looked at each other. Her face was slightly higher than his as she straddled him and she sat, mouth open with him buried inside her. Then he started to move. In small movements he began to push and pull and the heat that had bloomed in her belly became a fire. Kristen pushed her hips against him and tried to find better purchase to grind against him, to push him deeper still. And then she was moving. Driven by the building of her own climax she slammed herself onto him, pushing him to the end of her. She tilted her hips and pulled up feeling his cock drag at her inner walls. Then down again, hard, over, and over. Brandon reached behind his wife and spread her cheeks to get just a little deeper and when he did he felt her shudder. Her body gave in to her orgasm and as her body clenched around him he came hard. His fingers griped her shoulder blades and pulled her tight to him as he exploded into her. His mouth found hers. Both spent. 7:14 pm The four of them ate together at the table as they usually did and shared about their day and what they were going to be doing the next day. Kristen loved this part of the day. All the To Do's were done, or could wait until tomorrow at least, and they got to talk and laugh and enjoy a good meal together. Kristen ate with her hand resting in Brandon's listening to their son talk about running a race at school and thought, Blessed. Truly. Solace and Bond Detective Dash knocked on the front door of the small two-story house. It was early evening and he could see the lights on inside. He had been here many times before on far happier occasions. It was bad enough when he had to deliver news like this to a stranger, but to deliver it to his best friend's wife... Kate Langley opened the door. She had only gotten home from work minutes before and was still dressed in her pinstriped business suit. In the back, the sounds of her two young boys could be heard as they played video games in the living room. "Ty! What a great surprise. Danny isn't home yet -- " Her voice trailed off as she saw the even expression on Tyrone Dash's face. The next few hours were rough on Kate. Her husband Det. Daniel Langley was still alive – or at least believed to be – but was missing and presumed taken hostage during the deep cover operation he'd been working on. Dash explained how Danny had failed to check in and what was being done to find him and the people responsible. Because Danny had been working for months on the case, they had many leads that they could follow up on. More importantly, the police didn't believe his cover had been blown. If that were the case, they likely would've killed him on the spot. Instead, they felt he was being used to obtain a ransom; his cover was that of a wealthy investor. But that created other problems, Kate and her children might be potential targets as well if the kidnappers were to learn the truth. Until Danny was safe, they would get round the clock protection. "I'll personally make sure nothing happens to you or the kids, Kate. And I swear to you we'll get Danny back home, safe, and that these guys are gonna pay." Tyrone's confidence could only give Kate minor comfort. She spent the night lying awake in her husband's bed with both her boys at her side. The tears wouldn't go away anytime soon, but she had to be strong, if only for her children's sake. -- Nearly seven weeks passed before there was a major break in the case. No ransom had been asked for and all the main suspects had been questioned and released without any charges. The ransom demand Dash and his fellow officer's had been expecting had not come to fruition. What went unsaid was the fear Danny really had been killed and his body buried. But now the FBI had a tip that Danny might be being held somewhere in Mexico. As much as Dash wanted to go down and lead the investigation, the FBI was running the show now. Instead, he contented himself with updating Kate on all the details he knew and making sure her and the boys were being taken care of. Tyrone and Danny had first become friends at the academy. Danny and Kate had already been dating since college and he would often join them on nights out. The young couple got a kick out of watching their friend make a fool of himself each week in front of some beautiful young woman at the bar. Tyrone was an attractive young man, but alcohol would bring out the immature cad in him which was a distinct turn off to the girls. Danny and Kate often told themselves how thankful they were to have found each other and to have been able to avoid the dating scene. As the years passed and Kate became Mrs. Daniel Langley and Tyrone continued to live the single life. Danny and Kate doubted he would ever settle down, and Tyrone agreed with them. Although the two friends worked within the same division at the police department, they were not partners. So, often the only time they got to see each other was off hours. The Langley's often hosted weekend get-togethers for Danny's colleagues, and Tyrone never failed to show up, always entertaining the crowd with his misadventures in dating. The topic was never discussed, but Danny and Kate knew it was often difficult for Tyrone being the only black detective on the force, and one of the few African-American officers in the entire department. But Tyrone had worked hard and was highly respected by all his colleagues. Though he was light-skinned, Tyrone was the only son of two black parents from Michigan. In a rare show of emotion, Tyrone had privately thanked Kate after receiving his gold shield for all the years of support she and Daniel had given him. As godparent to their two children, Jeremy and Chris, and because of all the things they had been through together, Dash had a sense of loyalty to the Langley's that was unbreakable. That weekend, Kate was sending the boys to visit her parents upstate. They had come to stay with her the first couple of weeks after Daniel's disappearance, and she found Jeremy and Chris spirits had lifted in their company. All the worrying and the burden of having had to return to work had left her on the verge of exhaustion. She hoped a brief, quiet weekend by herself would help renew her energy. Kate sat on the sofa as Dash explained the new developments. He had hoped to see Kate brighten at news of the new lead, but she remained solemn. Kate refused to get her hopes up, only to have something eventual bring them crashing back down. Privately, she had resigned herself to the reality that the chances of Daniel coming back alive were low. In her mind, she was already a widow. She only awaited confirmation of the fact. "Boy's, grandpa is here." She called out to the 10 and 8 year old kids. The pair came down with their backpacks and each gave their mom a kiss on the check and a hug before running toward her father's car. Kate stepped out to waive goodbye as the vehicle drove off in the late summer twilight. Stationed nearby, a marked police car that was part of the twenty-four hour protection the Langley's still received. As her father's car faded into the distance, Tyrone stood behind Kate, grabbing her shoulder in support. "C'mon, let me buy you dinner. When was the last time you had a decent meal?" Tyrone asked with his deep voice. "No, I think I'll just call it an early night. I'm not very hungry." "I insist. Those boys need their mom healthy. You've been so busying looking after them, you haven't had any time for yourself." Kate turned and smiled. She hugged Tyrone and let out a soft sigh. "Thank you, Ty. Thank you for everything." The two friends went to theirs and Danny's favorite restaurant downtown. The last time Danny, Ty, and Kate had been here together was a few days before the kidnapping. Kate surprised herself by how hungry she was. For his part, Tyrone was glad to see something of her old self return. She had even manage a couple of attempts at humor. She had only drank a small glass of wine, but it was enough to relax her. "Tell me the truth," Kate asked as they finished their meal. "Danny's not coming back, is he?" "Don't say that. You know there's always hope. We've got a hundred people working night and day on getting him back." "Ty, I need to be realistic. I spend every day waiting for news that doesn't come. I feel like my life is draining away with each hour. I cry myself to sleep every night, hoping when I wake up you or someone will tell me that he's okay, and his coming home. But it never happens." Kate dropped her head, and looked away as tears began to form. "Kate, I promised you when all this started we'd get him back alive. We will." Tyrone took Kate's hand from across the table and held it tightly. "We will get him back." "Sometimes I imagine where he might be; if he's just sitting in some dark cell left alone or being beaten. I can't imagine what he must be going through, and that's assuming he's actually alive." Kate wiped her eyes and tried to put on a smile. "You don't have to pretend to be brave for me. We're all scared of what's happened. All you can do is make sure you take care of yourself and those two boys. That's what Danny would want," Tyrone reassured her. "You always know what to say, Ty. Thank you." Kate began to get up. "I need to use the ladies room for a sec." She turned and headed toward the back. As Kate walked away, Tyrone couldn't help but notice the way the breezy, summer dress she was wearing hugged the curves of her body. Though it showed off very little skin – the beige dress went almost to her ankles – it revealed her figure quite nicely. Though Kate was fast approaching forty, she was still easy on the eyes. Despite a deep hatred of working out – something Tyrone liked to rib her about – Kate had managed to stay quite tone. After dinner, they drove back to her house. When they arrived, the pair sat in the car in silence. After a few moments, Kate looked over at Tyrone. "Do you remember that time at the bar, that English girl you were hitting on? The one who practically had her hand down your pants the moment you spoke to her?" Detective Dash laughed out loud. "Hell, yeah! That was an evening to remember. I've never met a girl that horny in my life! I always knew I liked the British." Ty smiled thinking back on the encounter. "I never told you how jealous I was." "Jealous? Of what? Don't tell me you were interested in her too." Tyrone let out another laugh. "Ty, I was jealous that some girl you hadn't known for more than two minutes could so easily have you and here I was, having known you for years, and you'd never even flirted with me." "Kate, you and Danny are my best friends in the entire world. I'd never do anything to disrespect either of you. You know that." Kate gave him an angry stare before opening the door and stepping out of the car. She fiddled with her purse as she looked for the keys to the front door. Tyrone got out and followed her as she went inside. "What's wrong? Did I do something?" Kate didn't say anything as she walked towards the living room and turned on a lamp. She put her purse and keys down and began walking toward the kitchen. "Please, Kate, tell me." Kate stopped but didn't turn to face Tyrone. "Remember, that night you told me Danny was missing, you said to me you'd do anything I needed, I just had to ask?" "Of course, just name it." "I want you to stay with me tonight." Kate swirled around to look Tyrone in the eyes. "I don't want to be alone." "Sure, I can stay on the couch. That's not a problem." "No, Ty. I want to be with you tonight." Kate's blue eyes never wavered from his. Ty didn't know what to say. He had to catch his breath before carefully choosing his next words. "Kate, you don't mean that. You're lonely and you've been under a lot of stress. And I won't do something like that to my best friend." Kate moved closer to Tyrone and placed her hand on his cheek. "I mean every word. Yes, I'm lonely. I'm tired, too. But I can still think clearly, and what I want is for you to make love to me tonight." As Tyrone tried to think of a response, Kate quickly took each of his hands and wrapped them around her body. The light fabric of her dress glided across his fingers. Their lips were just inches apart as Kate gazed up at the slightly taller Tyrone. This close, he could smell the sweet scent of her hair as he looked into her eyes for what seemed like an eternity. Everything in his mind told him to stop before it was too late, but he could already feel his penis hardening as their two bodies pressed against one another. They both trembled, each one charged with excitement at the thought of what was likely to come. "Kiss me -," The rest of Kate's words were lost as Tyrone placed his lips on hers and began to explore her mouth. She let out an ever so slight moan as she let his tongue explore freely. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck as he slowly slid his hands down and gently squeezed her buttocks. As they continued to kiss, his hands reached further down Kate's legs and underneath her floral patterned dress. As she kicked off the dress flat shoes from her feet, he guided her already wet panties down, slipping them off Kate one leg at a time. After a fashion, Tyrone led Kate toward the black leather living room sofa. As he removed his dress jacket and shoes, she unbuckled his belt and shirt. Before too long, Ty was only wearing his grey boxer briefs. Kate had always admired Tyrone's sculpted, ebony, frame which had been hardened from years of workouts at the police gym. His erect penis protruded threw the front opening, as pre-cum dripped from the purple head. As he opened one of the condoms he usually kept in his coat, Kate slid his underwear off exposing him. She ran her hands up and down his muscled arms as she gently kissed various parts of his chest and abdomen. For a moment, he selfishly considered guiding her head toward his penis, and allowing her to take him inside her mouth. But he didn't know if it was something she even enjoyed, and tonight would be all about giving her pleasure. Tyrone pushed Kate back from his body and lifted her dress all the way off. Kate was not wearing a bra, and Tyrone took a moment to admire her full bosom. He leaned in and took her left nipple in his mouth, gently sucking on it before doing the same with her right breast. Kate continued to whimper, ever so slightly, with each act of pleasure. As their mouths met once again, Tyrone turned Kate toward the sofa and sat her down. She leaned back while he knelt on the ground. He placed her smooth, shapely legs on each shoulder as she arched her back and moved her pelvis toward him. Tyrone began by licking her inner thighs with the tip of his tongue. He teased her, coming ever so close to her pussy before moving away again. The anticipation was nearly unbearable to Kate. He brushed his lips across her slit, carefully not to fully press down. Kate bucked, straining to feel more pressure across the front of her vagina. Tyrone now kissed her, first gently, then harder. He used his tongue to separate her pussy and run it up and down the layers of flesh. Kate could feel her body becoming flush as the excitement built. She moaned much louder now as she got lost in the heat of moment. Sensing her approaching climax, Tyrone ran his tongue in and out of her faster and faster. He could feel her legs tense up around his neck just as her orgasm was about to peak. Kate's body began to shutter as Tyrone's relentless attack continued. "Oh god! Ahhhh!" Kate yelled as waves of pleasure began to run through her body. Tyrone slowed down, his own throbbing cock now aching for release. As Kate lowered her legs, she leaned up and kissed Tyrone yet again. She savored the subtle flavor of her own juices on his tongue. She ran her hands down the rough stubble of his five o'clock shadow before getting up. The pair now exchanged places. Tyrone sat down and leaned back on the warm leather of the couch. As he did so, his eight-inch dick was nearly vertical as he waited for Kate to mount him. For a moment – only a moment – Kate hesitated. She had never been with another man since she and Daniel had first started dating nearly twelve years ago. Indeed, she had only been with two other men besides her husband in her entire life. As she contemplated what was about to happen, she knew there would be no turning back. What happened tonight could never be taken back. A sense of guilt suddenly intruded the afterglow of her orgasm. Danny could very well be somewhere tonight, still alive, possibly suffering in pain while here she was, about to experience total and complete bliss by fucking her husband's friend and colleague. Yet, as she looked at Tyrone, awaiting her, the fog of sexual insanity overcame her again. She had wanted – no, needed this tonight. She banished all other thoughts from her head as she began to straddle Tyrone. "I'm yours. Take me." She said softly. Tyrone grabbed his shaft to steady it as Kate prepared to lower herself onto him. She slowly started to impale herself onto her husband's best friend. She arched her head back as Tyrone's dick began to expand her pussy. Kate let out a long moan as she felt his black cock penetrate deeper and deeper inside of her. Finally, with it all the way in, she contracted her pelvic muscles to squeeze around it tightly. "Oh, baby...you feel wonderful." Tyrone was so enveloped in the moment, his words barely made it out. Now, the thirty-four year old black detective and the thirty-eight year old devoted wife and mother of two were joined as one. As Mrs. Langley brought her head down, her eyes locked with Dash's. He reached up, and brushed aside the strands of blonde hair across her face so he could see the pleasure and enjoyment on it. After a moment, Tyrone grabbed her waist and began to lift her up off his cock. Kate felt the large shaft sliding out of her, only to have it stop and begin the journey back inside her again. With each motion, the pair began to get into a comfortable rhythm. As Tyrone felt the pressure beginning to build within, their pace quickened. They had been fucking for several minutes, but Tyrone wanted to try and hold off his climax until he knew Kate was close to coming again as well. He tried to slow her movement down but she began to protest. "Don't stop! I'm almost there..." He moved his hands off her waist and onto her ass. Almost as if on cue, Kate's body began to shake and she let out a loud moan. Tyrone began to thrust more forcefully. He could begin to feel the warm liquid make its way up his cock until it finally erupted. One, two, three, four, five powerful bursts emerged within Kate, stopped only by the latex condom Tyrone wore. With each discharge, he let out a primal grunt of pleasure. Finally, it was done. As Tyrone's penis began to lose its hardness, he pulled it out as Kate got up off his lap. She lay down next to him on the couch, kissing him before putting her head on his shoulder and running her arm across his chest. They both sat quietly, listening to each other's heavy breathing. Before long, Kate had fallen asleep. Tyrone got up gently and put his clothes back on. He removed a cover from the downstairs closet and draped it over the still naked Kate. He took a seat on a nearby chair and went to sleep. But when Kate was awakened by the morning sun glaring through the windows, Tyrone was already gone. -- Despite it being a Saturday, Detective Dash went into work to check up on the FBI lead. There was still no word, but he was told things were looking up. Tyrone decided to catch up on paperwork, but his mind kept coming back to the events of last night. With each thought of Kate, he would develop an erection which only further distracted him. His mobile phone rang. The caller ID indicated it was Kate. Ty hesitated before finally picking up. "Ty, How about a real home-cooked meal tonight? I need to go shopping, and I figure I might as well make something. And I guess, maybe, we should talk about last night." "Uh, sure. Six sound good?" "Perfect! I'll see you then." Tyrone put the phone down and closed his eyes. Did she regret what happened? Would she tell him they both needed to just forget what about last night, even after he had warned her? "Easier said than done, Kate." He thought aloud to himself. He arrived a little before six o'clock. Kate answered the door, giving him a brief peck on the cheek. She wore a t-shirt and jeans that showed off her figure. She walked back to the kitchen and attended to the stove. "Jeremy and Chris called. They're both having a good time with my parents. I was thinking of letting them stay another week." "Oh. I guess that would be good for them." "Yeah, I think so too." Before long, they both sat down to dinner. Kate had cooked her "world famous" fettuccini, one of Tyrone's favorite dishes. As they began to eat, Tyrone decided to take the lead. "Kate, last night – it was amazing. But to be completely honest about --" She held up her hand. "You need to know something. Before Danny had started his case, we were beginning to have problems. We would argue over the littlest things like what time to have dinner, or who should pick up the boys. It only got worse after he went undercover. He was moody, and quiet. He didn't want to talk about anything. Our love life essentially came to a stop. I know how much stress he was under, but he had tough cases before. We were growing apart so suddenly, I was frightened he was going to leave me at any moment." Solace and Bond Kate took a sip of wine and continued. "Last night, while we were talking over dinner, I realized other than Daniel, you've been the closest person in my life. Ty, whenever you'd come over to all those barbecues we had, did you think I hadn't noticed you staring at me when I wasn't looking? When Danny would be out of the room and we'd both briefly lock eyes and know what the other was thinking? I think, if we were both completely honest, we'd both admit we've always been attracted to each other." Tyrone looked down at the table before looking back at Kate. It was his silent admission she was correct. "And I think, if we were also being honest, that even if nothing had happened to Danny, and things continued the way they were going, that eventually the two of us were going to...become lovers." Kate reached out and held Tyrone's hand. "That it happened now, of all times, to me is a blessing. I needed someone last night. Needed to feel the touch and love of another person. Needed to feel like a complete person, even if only for a little bit. I've never felt that much joy, not with Danny, not with any man. And if that's the only time I'll ever feel that way, the only time we'll ever be together, then I'll always be thankful for it, for our one night together. I'm not going to put you in a position you aren't comfortable with. If you don't ever want to see me after tonight, because you feel guilty, because you think you betrayed Danny, I will completely understand." "Kate, what I was going to say, what I wanted to be honest with you about is, I don't feel guilty. Not one bit. And it's been killing me all day. You're the only thing I could think about." They both let Tyrone's words hang in the air for a moment before he got up and walked toward Kate. She stood up and wrapped her arms around him. He leaned in and kissed her. Kate wrapped her mouth around Tyrone's full lips and parted them as their tongues explored one another once again. "We can have dinner later. Why don't we go upstairs, to your bedroom?" Kate took the lead and walked Tyrone upstairs. By the time Tyrone and Kate reached the bedroom, both were fully aroused. With Jeremy and Chris gone, neither bothered to shut the door behind them. There was no need to fear screaming aloud the passion they felt for one another. They each took turns undressing one another, pausing only to continue their long, deep kisses. Tyrone was the first one completely naked. He continued to undress her until she was in just her black lace bra and black thong. "I never thought of you as the type to wear one of those." Tyrone said as he touched Kate's waist and felt the fabric of her underwear. "I don't. I bought it today. I was hoping you'd still feel the same way," She said with the innocence of a little schoolgirl. Kate smiled as he nodded his approval. She grabbed his penis and balls with both hands, admiring their beauty. "Would you like to?" Tyrone asked, amused by her fascination with his manhood. Kate didn't hesitate. She got on her knees as Tyrone took a seat on the edge of the bed. With his cock pointed straight at her, she grabbed the base of the shaft gliding her hand up and down at first. She licked the liquid on the tip of the head, before taking it inside her mouth. As her other hand played with his balls, Kate gently sucked his dick. Her head bobbed as Tyrone's penis went back and forth. The sensation was amazing to Tyrone and he knew Kate had almost certainly done this before. Although he tried to fight it, Tyrone was too aroused and was quickly close to climaxing. He held on to Kate's head as he continued to fuck her mouth. "I'm close." He tried to warn her, in case she didn't want him to come inside her. But Kate didn't relent. As Tyrone released his load, Kate promptly swallowed as much of the hot semen as she could. It had a slightly bitter taste, but Kate was in too much heat to care. As Tyrone finished, some of the semen dripped from her mouth. Kate came up and Tyrone pulled her over to kiss her. Tyrone enjoyed the feeling of the sticky, white liquid on both their lips. For some reason, he felt as if it brought them even closer together than the night before. There was something primal about it that he enjoyed. "That was great." Tyrone said as her kissed her neck. "Was it? I've never done that before." Tyrone stopped and looked at Kate, shocked by her statement. "You're kidding?" "I'm serious. I've never wanted to do it. I mean, I've given hand jobs before, but you're the only man I've ever wanted to suck off." Tyrone let out a laugh. Kate smiled and kissed him again. "I mean it," She leaned in and whispered into his ear. "I wouldn't do that for anyone else." Though it went unsaid, "anyone else" meant her husband, Danny. "Only for you, whenever you want it. And you can do whatever you want to me." Detective Dash took a moment to gather himself. Kate went to the bathroom to wipe the remaining semen off her chin. Tyrone looked through his jacket pocket for a condom. He pulled out a packet and began to open it when Kate came out. "No, don't." She took the unused condom out of his hand and dropped it on the bedroom floor. "I want to feel all of you inside of me." Tyrone got up and waited for Kate to lay down on the bed. As she approached, Kate removed her gold wedding band and placed it on the dresser next to the bed, beneath a photo of her and Danny. The act was completely unconscious on her part. Yet, the meaning was unavoidable: at least for the moment, she belonged to another man. Kate may have still been Mrs. Daniel Langley in spirit, but in body she was Tyrone's lover and she willingly accepted all that that meant. Kate got on the bed and spread her legs as Tyrone got between them and on top of her. His dick gently brushed up against her blonde pubic hair. As they begin to kiss, Kate wrapped her legs around Tyrone's waist. The well-built black man positioned himself as he began to enter her for the second time in two nights. As he penetrated, Kate's legs pressed his torso toward her encouraging him to go as deep as possible. The thickness of his shaft did not catch her off guard as it had the night before. But the sensation was just as pleasurable as it had been the first time. "Oh god, fuck me! Fuck me, Ty!" He granted her wish and began to thrust into her. Though they had only been together once before, they quickly found the right rhythm as if they'd been lovers for years. It took Tyrone a little while to come again, which was perfectly fine for Kate. She had already reached orgasm twice before he finally began to feel himself getting close to release. He pounded her harder and faster as the explosion slowly built up inside of him. Kate could sense his approaching climax and encouraged him as much as she could. Her nails dug into his back and her teeth clenched with every movement of his body. "Baby, come inside me...I want to feel you. Come on, fuck me!" Kate insisted. Finally, she felt his cock begin to pulsate as his seed filled up inside of her. Even as he came, Tyrone and Kate shared a loving glance. It was a complicated and even sad set of circumstances that had brought the two of them together at this moment. Yet they both accepted and indulged in the pleasure it brought to both of them. While the night before, there had been some fear and hesitancy on both their parts, they had now both shed any of their doubts and lingering guilt. As Tyrone pulled out of Kate they embraced and held each other for the next hour. There were few words spoken between them – there didn't need to be. As dinner got cold downstairs, Kate took Tyrone into her two more times before they both fell asleep. -- A week had passed before Kate's children returned from their grandparents' house upstate. Up to that point, the two lovers had spent almost every evening together. They had even begun to experiment sexually, at one point trying anal sex – something which neither of them had experienced. Though it had been enjoyable, neither seemed eager to repeat the act. With her boys back home, Kate and Tyrone agreed to spend a few days apart. Tyrone was busy following up on leads regarding Danny's kidnapping. The FBI tip regarding Mexico hadn't panned out and now they were back at square one. It wasn't long before Kate called asking to meet up with Tyrone. She drove her car over to his apartment after which they went out to dinner at a nearby restaurant. Afterwards, the pair drove off to a local park and found a secluded area. "Tell me the truth, where do I rank on your list of conquests?" Kate asked as she gently rocked on top of Tyrone's lap in the backseat. Tyrone's pants were slipped down just enough to give his dick free access to her cunt. Kate was still wearing her dark blue business outfit from work, sans jacket. Her skirt was hiked up above her crotch – she'd removed her panties and left them at home before picking up Tyrone. "Hmm, you're on dangerous ground. Do you really want to know the answer?" "Yeah, I do!" She insisted. Kate adjusted slightly so that Tyrone's shaft rubbed her clit. "You're the best...by a lot." Tyrone smiled and kissed her. "Liar!" Kate protested weakly. She cooed as his cock touched her pleasure point in just the right way. "I never lie about these things." The couple continued in silence, except for the occasional moans of pleasure. They soon finished, each mutually satisfied. They drove back to Kate's house. While Kate paid the babysitter, Tyrone waited in the car until she signaled the coast was clear. The two sneaked upstairs to her bedroom. Jeremy and Chris were already asleep which gave them some privacy. They both entered the shower and soaped each other down beneath the warm water. Kate traced her finger along the large dragon tattoo that graced Tyrone's upper right arm. "Do you think of what we're doing as fucking? What I mean is, is it just sex to you?" Her voiced trailed off as she placed her head on her shoulders. "No way, sweetie. My god, Kate, if things were different, I'd be thinking about spending the rest of my life with you." Kate looked up and kissed him, sliding her tongue slowly around his. In one swift motion, Tyrone lifted her up off the shower floor and against the side wall, inserting his still aroused dick into her. Kate was caught by surprise and let out a yelp as he entered her. Her feet off the ground, she leaned back against the tiles to steady herself and wrapped her long legs around Tyrone's torso. The shower head blasted warm water in her face as Tyrone began pounding upwards. Although she greatly enjoyed their tender lovemaking, Kate also took pleasure at their more aggressive sexual encounters. It didn't take long for Tyrone to finish. He let her down and the pair lingered in the shower a little longer before finally retreating to bed. Neither could be prepared for what was to come the next day. -- "We got him!" Tyrone turned around and saw his Lieutenant standing at the door to the squad room. "They found Danny! He's alive! And they managed to get the motherfuckers too." Tyrone made sure he was the first to tell Kate. He rushed over to her house and gave her the news. She cried, much like that night a couple of months earlier. But now they were tears of joy. Daniel Langley was dehydrated and suffering from malnutrition, but was otherwise healthy. He had been found purely by accident. The van in which his kidnappers were transporting him was pulled over by a traffic office for running a stop sign. The alert officer noticed the two men acting suspiciously and ordered them out of the vehicle. As his partner watched the driver and passenger, the officer opened up the back and found Danny tied up and gagged. Neither kidnapper put up resistance, knowing they had no change I've fleeing alive. Tyrone wasn't there when Kate and the boys were reunited with Danny at the hospital. As glad as he was to know he was alive and safe, he couldn't bare to see Kate with him. The doctors ordered Danny to stay in the hospital a couple of days for observation. Tyrone had avoided Kate ever since he had given her the good news. So, when he heard a knock on his front door, he was surprised to see her. "Trying to avoid me?" Kate was glowing, Danny's return was good for her, Tyrone knew. But he couldn't help be reminded of the feelings he had for her and that he knew she had for him. She stepped inside and leaned up against the wall. "I figured you needed your space with Danny back." "I appreciate that, but you and I...these past few weeks...like you said, we can't go back." "He's asking for you, you know. Wondering when you'll stop by." "I'll be there. I promise." Tyrone walked back toward his sofa and sat down. "I'm transferring out of town. I can go downstate and join the police force there with only a few weeks retraining." Kate walked over and caressed his cheek. "You don't have to leave. We don't even have to end our relationship. We can both be discreet." "You know we have to end it, Kate. Deep down, you know we do. For your sake, and Danny's." Kate relented, knowing Tyrone was right. "We're probably not going to see much of each other anymore." Tyrone continued. What he really meant that they were likely to never see each other again. The memories would be too painful for either of them. "Then, let's make the best of things tonight," Kate bent down and kissed Tyrone. They made love one last time, with more energy and passion than any of their previous encounters. Only their drained bodies prevented them from continuing through the night. They fell asleep, naked, in each other's arms. When Tyrone woke up, Kate was gone. It was over. Tyrone said his goodbye's to Danny, evading eye contact as if his friend might actually see into his soul and discover the sexual bond Tyrone shared with his wife. The two friends agreed to keep in touch, but Tyrone knew that would be impossible. With Danny back, Kate and him found a renewed love in one another. Part of it was the shared trauma of his kidnapping. But the other part was the strength and solace Kate had found in Tyrone. It was a secret neither would ever reveal to anyone else and a bond that would never be broken. The End. Solace & Rosanna Solace “Sol” Tynan stood, swaying slightly, as she watched her now ex-best friend and lover, Rosanna “Sanna” Romero, stride purposefully across the street. It was a damned good thing she was holding tightly to her mobility cane because she might have made quite a spectacle of herself by crumpling to the sidewalk for no good reason that anyone could discern. Well, she new she would have a good reason, but no one else would. Rosanna neither looked left nor right, only straight ahead—which was probably the course she planned to chart for her life from now on. Nice and easy was how Sanna wanted it, no embarrassment or second glances. She had told Solace that she needed to simplify her life, and that life no longer included someone with a visual impairment—no matter how close they had become. It would just be too difficult. A lump formed in Solace’s throat as she recalled that unbelievable conversation. Rosanna’s short, beautifully styled dark brown hair fanned out behind her in the gentle, warm breeze. Solace smiled to herself remembering how Sanna was always the picture of fashion—her suits impeccably tailored. She looked down at her own clean, but faded jeans and tie-dye T-shirt and sighed. This is probably one of the many reasons we’re not together anymore. She was forever harping on me to do the dress-up thing. Oh forget it! Now I don’t have to worry about that crap anymore! I'll dress up when I have to and not any time sooner. The only item of clothing that Solace and Rosanna could agree upon were shoes. They shared a passion for footwear and favored the same style—comfortable but decent enough to wear to work. To that end, they had prowled many a shoe store in search of the perfect footwear. Her smile faded as she wondered why Rosanna had requested this meeting. Hadn’t they settled everything? She could have just as easily called or e-mailed her. Couldn’t she? If Sanna was nothing else, she was proper and could be formal to the hilt. No, meeting in person was much kinder, but to whom Solace thought wryly. Perhaps Sanna actually needed to see Solace for one last time before she plunged into her new life—and family. This did not ease the ache in Solace’s soul. As they approached each other from opposite sides to meet at the corner of 84th street and Fifth Avenue, right across the street from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Solace thought, for one very brief, ecstatic moment that Rosanna had a mind to try to breech the growing chasm and heal the festering wounds by inviting her to talk things over at one of their favorite dining haunts. But, again, Solace was wrong—wrong about so many things she had been so certain of only ten short months previous to this gut-wrenching reunion. She had leaned to simply embrace Rosanna (even a kiss on the cheek had been rebuffed in recent months), but Rosanna had gently fended her off by placing a firm hand on her cane. “What’s up Sanna?” Solace asked. She hoped Sanna could not see the perspiration stains beginning to form under her arms. Damned deodorant was supposed to keep you dry no matter what. Well, that was another lie told to the American public. Add it to the miles-high pile of rubbish sold to John and Johanna Q. Public every year! “I don’t have long. I have a dinner reservation.” Rosanna answered curtly. Well, she was going to dinner anyway. “With whom?” Solaced asked before she could stop herself. Her inquisitiveness was one more aspect of their relationship that had recently begun to annoy Rosanna. She would have to try harder to control herself. But she couldn’t simply turn off her emotions.. Lately, Sanna had become more businesslike in their dealings, seemingly attempting to wring out the last vestiges of feeling between them. “You’ll never change. You’ll always be nosy.” Rosanna sighed in exasperation. “There was a time when you knew my nosiness was concern.” Solace reminded her softly, beginning to make circles with her cane over the cobblestones as her agitation grew. “Well, I’ve changed.” Rosanna said as she ran her fingers through her hair. She stared straight at Solace. “Listen. I can’t do this. I—we can’t be friends anymore. I don’t want you to call or e-mail me. It’s too hard.” Friends! Wow! That was how she boiled down their relationship—not even best friends. Never mind anything else! Solace watched Rosanna as she began to pace in small circles, a sure sign that she was nervous. “Too hard for whom--Matilda?” she shot back. She began rummaging in her shoulder-bag for a tissue. Dammit. She never had them when she needed them most. She found an old crumpled dinner napkin and began to dab at her now tearing eyes. “Leave Matilda out of this, Solace. This has nothing to do with her. It’s just you and me! And for God sakes, stop crying. You’re not being fair. We both agreed to separate. Didn’t we?” Rosanna said through clenched teeth, her Latin accent becoming more pronounced as she became more upset. She moved toward Solace, turned to see if anyone was watching and stepped back, her heels beating a staccato rhythm on the sidewalk. “First of all, why should I be fair? You’re not! And I never agreed to anything. I was informed and not given one damned chance to protest. And why the hell shouldn’t I cry? I can still feel. You can’t order me around anymore. I don’t work for you. She almost corrected Sanna’s improper sentence, but she thought better of that one. She raised an eyebrow as Sanna advanced, thinking that she really had changed if she had the inclination to strike her. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it when she realized that whatever she said would only fan the impending flames of hostility that were rolling off Rosanna in waves. This had been the way for the past six months. Solace would say something she considered fairly innocuous and Rosanna would snap out some nasty retort. It had become quite tiresome and draining. Perhaps this was the right thing. But she couldn’t help wonder what had happened? What had she done? Had she been so horrible in their five years that it should come to this? She couldn’t help the last comeback. “Now, who’s the blind one?” She received nothing but stony silence. Well, what could Sanna say? Once again she cursed her name, for Solace was definitely not in a comforting mood at this moment. Rosanna was saying something. What? “I’m going to send the movers to get the rest of my stuff. I’ve already packed. I’m not taking much. You can have…” Solace did not give her the chance to finish as she interrupted. “I don’t want one freaking possession of yours if you can just walk the hell out on me after all this time. Keep your shit!” Her voice became shrill and began to rise in volume. Solace backed away from Rosanna, who in turn moved closer with every step Solace took. “Solace, please! Don’t make a scene!” Rosanna begged as she attempted to place what she considered a steadying hand on Solace’s shoulders. In her haste to back away from Rosanna, Solace had begun to back up into a tree with low-hanging, pointed, branches and Rosanna could see that she was in danger of falling and possibly injuring herself. “Take your hands off of me. I never want you to touch me again!” Solace screamed and wrenched herself from Rosanna’s grasp. Her last words came to an abrupt end as her feet became entangled in her cane and she tripped, falling on her butt. She tried to spring back up, but Rosanna reached out and grabbed her by both arms, hauling her up as if she weighed nothing more than a rag doll. Rosanna held her an instant too long and then released her. She was grateful that Solace could not see her glistening eyes or hear her pounding heart. Was she making a mistake? No! Life would be much easier now! “Are you all right, Sol?” Rosanna whispered. Why did Sanna have to be so goddamned strong? That was too much of a turn-on and this was certainly no time to be turned on!. Solace cleared her throat before speaking to give herself more time to catch her breath.. “No, but I’m hoping I can survive this.” She answered mournfully. She slung her bag over her shoulder. Dammit! She had bent her cane. This was the second one this month—the first cane having succumbed to a rude pedestrian who had tripped over it and bent it until it resembled a horseshoe. The wretched individual had walked away without even offering to pay for the damage. “Goodbye, Sol.” Rosanna kissed her softly on the cheek. No fair! Why did she get to do that and I didn’t? Solace clung to her. “Sanna, please don’t do this to us.” She begged through her sobs. Rosanna broke the embrace. Solace whispered and watched as much as she could as the only woman she had ever loved walked out of her life forever. She felt hollow and could barely shamble over to a bench to sit down to collect herself. She hadn’t been sitting for two minutes when she popped up and blurted out. If that witch took Bizarrey, I’ll kill her! Several passersby gave her the eye, which she did not see. And would not have cared if she had been able. She made her way hurriedly to the next bus stop. Bizarrey the Cat, was communal property that belonged to her!