0 comments/ 4741 views/ 0 favorites The Final By: dsoul My darling sat by his reading table banging away at his typewriter day and night. He was on a deadline, or at least that's what he told himself. A Styrofoam filled with coffee sat not too far from his right elbow; a pencil rested at the nook of his left ear, and a cigarette dangled from his lips while his hands remained busy stomping on those keys like an accountant tallying his records. He seemed not to notice my presence even though I was there with him all through, from beginning to the bitter end. I remained steadfast with him, even when he chose to ignore me whenever I called out to him to take a break. Sometimes I tried some means of distracting him, of getting his attention. I opened the connecting door to the living room and searched through his records for something loud and aggravating to the ears. I would play it on the vinyl player and crank up the volume. At first he acted impervious to it, then in a fit of stoic anger he would get up and slam the door to his library close and turn the lock. He would remain in there till the late hours of the night before coming out and lighting a candle to take upstairs to his bedroom. Sometimes I lay in his bed waiting for him. Other times I stayed in the guest bedroom down the hall from his, preferring to leave him alone till morning. Morning would arrive and it would be the same thing all over again: me coming down the stairs just as the first cock crowed and meeting him there in the kitchen fixing himself a sandwich while a kettle steamed on the stove. "Morning," said I to him. "Morning to you," he mumbled with a mouth full of bread. "How's the work coming along?" "Fine." "Think you'll be done by the end of the fall?" "Don't know. We'll see." And that's just about all he would say to me. Done with his sandwich, he would make himself his coffee then leave me to myself and go into his library. The electricity was never steady. Some days we didn't have any at all, and those days were worse for me as I couldn't watch anything on the telly. All I'd be left with is either taking a nap, reading a book, going to sit outside or take a walk into town while he remained in his library banging away at his machine. He wasn't always a taciturn fellow though he was a secretive one. Some days you never knew what to expect of him. One time while I was in town buying items at the market to make dinner with, I heard someone mention he was at the tavern drinking palm wine. This I needed to see for myself. He seldom ventured into the town and the few times he did, the last place you'd expect him to be at was the tavern where old men sat under the eaves exchanging tobacco smoke and yammering about how dire life was while watching urchins play in the street. They were all in the tavern seated in a circle around him, all ears listened to whatever he was saying while the bartender discharged beers from his counter. I watched him spill jokes and yarn with the tavern's occupants before hurrying for him. He'd locked his library, just as I'd expected, as if he knew I was going to want to take a peek at whatever it was he was writing that he just didn't seem to want to share with me. I was in the kitchen making a stew and the sun was starting to go down when he returned. I asked how his day had been and he muttered his typical fine then went and unlocked his library door and stepped inside. Once we used to be lovers. When that part of our life ended I was least aware of it, except I woke up one morning and realised he seldom touched me anymore. A long time ago he composed sonnets in my name, and always he welcomed me with a tray of breakfast and a kiss in the morning. I can't remember the last time he did any of such to me. Too many times I've tried getting back some measure of feeling into him. Once I'd even jumped on him at night, but he'd knocked me off from the bed and turned on his other side facing the wall and slept off. Could it be he'd caught a rare form of cold? I'd gone into town to see the doctor about this, but he couldn't offer any better explanations. It was around that time he'd begun writing his book, or whatever it is. Four months have passed since then and he'd remained like he was with no change at all. I could have left him. Nights and days have gone past when I didn't seriously think about packing up a bag and leaving him to be alone with his newfound self. It felt so easy a thing to do ... but I couldn't. In the end, when I'd really had it up to my neck with the bastard, I couldn't make myself open that door and step out into a new life. I still loved him, and I know he loved me too. He was just going through some sort of rough patch and figured ignoring me was the least way he could handle it. At least that was what I told myself; there wasn't anyone else around whom I could shoot the breeze with to know if I was the one who truly needed to go see a doctor and not him. There were occasions when he remembered I was there with him. Some mornings I woke up to the scent of a cup of tea on the cabinet by my side of the bed. One night while in bed I felt him nuzzling my ear. It felt ticklish and really what I wanted to do was turn over and pulled his face down to mine. Except I didn't do that; I wanted to see where he was going. A minute later he stopped and returned to his side of the bed and that was just about the end of it. Still I remained with him. The days came and went just like the night. Then one morning the inevitable happened: he finished his book. I was upstairs in the bathroom doing the laundry when he hollered my name. First thought that came to my head was that he'd injured himself, so I dropped the soap and scuttled out of the bathroom and rushed downstairs. He was waiting for me in his library, like I expected he would be anywhere else, with a look of happiness on his face. "I've finished the book!" he cried out at the same time waved his fists in the air with his manuscript in one of them. "I've finally finished it bloody book!" "Congrats, darling," said I. "So, what next?" I probably shouldn't have said that. The moment I did, the happiness on his face instantly went away, replaced by the sad look of a man who couldn't contemplate the future anymore. He stood there by the doorway of his library staring at me, but not really seeing me. His features contemplative as he looked at the manuscript papers in his hand. "I don't know ... I didn't think. I guess it's the end." I was about calling out to him, asking what he meant by that when he took a step back into the room and closed the door before I could. I came and tried the handle but it was locked. I got angry and slapped my palm repeatedly on the door and yelled for him to come and unlock it. Then I heard a gun go off and I jumped away from the door and screamed. The sound came from inside his library, and there was no way I could get inside. I went out of the house and tried climbing to the room's window. I yelled out his name when I saw his body lying on the floor with a pool of blood flowing from a hole in his head; his manuscript papers lay scattered about him. I fell off the window and ran like a mad woman towards the town, screaming for help at the top of my lungs. His death was instantaneous, the doctor declared after examining him. For weeks and weeks I wept, unable to be consoled. His funeral came and went and I managed everything, shook hands and exchanged hugs with his friends and family, and when people from the town came to pay their respects, I stood with his mom accepting their condolences. A month had passed since he died, and the rains have begun showering. I've closed up his library, never wanting to set foot in there ever again. Maybe someday when I'm strong enough to really let go of him, I will put the house up for sale. For now it is my refuge; my only sanctuary. It is the only thing I have that keeps the memory of him alive in my head. I kept his finished manuscript with me. I have never read it, and I don't think I ever intend to. Nor do I intend showing it to anyone at all. So it will remain until the ink on it fades away. With time I know it will. The Final Appointment Nicole had an appointment at 7 p.m. He did not particularly like working on Nicole. She was wonderfully attractive, with long auburn hair, fair skin, fine features and a tight little body. That was not his problem with her. It was her attitude. She oozed self-believed superiority. It is almost certain that she was captain of the varsity cheerleading team; salutatorian of her high school; and, vice-president of her college sorority. Nicole was a junior customer service executive in the regional office of a large national bank. She made sure he, and everyone else who could hear her voice, knew that she was the youngest person in the bank to rise to such a lofty perch. She took aerobics and drank two-dollar-a-bottle water. Since it seemed to be trendy, Nicole opted to get a tattoo, and since she was not terribly daring or unconventional, she chose to get a tribal design on her lower back. This was her third appointment for a tattoo that could have been finished in one sitting. Working on Nicole was difficult. She did not have the greatest patience or tolerance for pain, and whined and complained incessantly. In fact, she could only be tattooed when heavily doped up on GHB and painkillers. For all of her achievements, mainstream appearances and pretenses; Nicole was a bit of a secret pill-junkie. She stumbled through the front door of the shop slightly before seven, the cab she took pulled away from the curb as she entered. She was wearing a short skirt and a white, fuzzy cashmere sweater. The idea of wearing something casual and practical probably never occurred to her. Her eyes already looked glassy. He motioned her to the chair, but she waved him off. “Not yet,” she slurred, popping another pill, “-have to let this stuff really kick in.” She stood there, swaying a moment and half-closed her eyes. He finally talked her into the chair. He directed her to sit backwards in the seat, with her elbows resting against the top of the backrest which was covered with a clean towel. He started to raise up her sweater, “You want me to just tuck this up, or-“ She suddenly pulled it off over her head and tossed it on the table. She was not wearing a bra, and her ample breasts jiggled with the motion. “Hell no, don’ wanno ink onnit..” she barely managed, as she turned to face the back of the chair and pressed herself against it. She would probably be shocked if she could have heard herself just then. He readied the shading iron and sprayed down the work-in-progress. As high as she was this evening, he figured he cold finish it. It only needed about forty-five minutes of solid black coloring and he could finally have the nightmare that was Nicole out of his studio, and out of his life. He triggered the machine. She jumped before he even touched her and turned around. “Fuck!” she slurred, “-not ready!” He rolled his eyes as she made a show of settling herself back into position. “Ok, now I am...” she murmured, her head resting on her forearms. He began coloring in the large, v-shaped tribal design. It was fairly rote work, filling in solid black, with no conversation and little to artistically engage his mind. The time passed as he put the black into her lower back. It was then that he noticed that her breathing had slowed, and became more regular. He shaded some more, feeling her lower back beneath his hands, listening for her breathing. She did not move at the touch of the machine, and her breathing remained unchanged. “Nicole?” he said. She did not answer. He took the shading machine and shaded a spot further out on her flank. From experience with her and other customers, he knew that this was a very painful location, and was sure to get some kind of reaction out of her. She did not do so much as make a whimper. Her breathing continued; slow, deep, and regular. He forcibly picked her up and turned her around in the chair, the towel across her chest falling to the floor. She moved in his arms like a one hundred and ten pound rag doll. The combination of GHB, Hydrocodone, and who knows what else, had placed her in a state of complete disassociative unawareness. He stared at her eyes, now closed, and gently opened one eyelid with a thumb and forefinger. Her eyes were nearly rolled back into her head, and she remained unresponsive. The pale forbidden fruit of her breasts rose and fell with each regular breath. They were around a size D-cup, the work of an extremely expensive, extremely well known plastic surgeon in Boston. She had had them less than a year, and was extremely proud of them, constantly wearing tight fitting, or cleavage revealing tops. She was barely an A-cup before the surgery. He again watched the rising and falling breasts; so firm, so pale, so lovely. He took up his lining machine and firmly stretched the already taut skin of her right breast. He paused a moment, took a deep breath, and depressed the foot switch, starting the clattering buzz of the machine. His hand was shaking slightly and he stopped, and took another deeper breath. He swallowed hard, and depressed the footswitch again. With a steady hand he brought the machine to her skin. Ink and a small amount of blood welled at the surface as he engraved a black line, the beginning of an intricate outline, into the firm, white flesh of her right breast. He worked quickly but precisely, his heart racing as the chemicals percolating through her system slowly continued to do their work, but as they just as slowly wore off. He finished the outline and switched to his heavy iron shading machine. Black, greens, gold, purple; a virtual rainbow of colors was forced into her skin by the relentless needle as she lay there passively, unaware, and unable to stop it. Sweat poured from him as he worked in a trance, eyes half-closed, pausing only to rub the sweat from his brow and to dip the needle-tube into a cap of ink. After nearly three hours he finished. He sat back with a start, the hot machine still dangling from his hands. He was barely aware of what he had done, or even that he was doing it. The machine dropped from his numb fingers and clattered to the floor as he beheld his work, fully-conscious of what he had done for the first time. Her right nipple was transformed into a flaming pearl, the tendrils of fire licking up and around the tender pink flesh of her areola. The pearl was grasped in the four-fingered claw of a Chinese dragon, its scales purple and gold. The long colorful tail looped around her breast, the head and body rising up her chest, even above her collar bone, and out to her shoulder. A nimbus of bright fire shaded with orange and yellow surrounded the dragon, filling the space between its twisting body and limbs. Several long tendrils of brightly colored flame emerged from the dragon’s back and crept several inches above the collar line along the entire right side of her neck and throat; one sinewy lick of flame stopping just below her ear. He took her unconscious body in his arms, and her head just rolled back, the breathing still deep and regular. He was only now beginning to grasp what he had done to her, how irrevocable and final it was. There was really no turning back now, he had to finish what he started. He took some Vaseline he used for tattooing on his finger, and moved aside her silken panties beneath her skirt. Her muscles were slack, and her pussy was loose and relaxed, not gripping him at all as he thrust into her. Her chin was raised, her head back, and he rocked her up and down upon himself, her breasts, one completely tattooed, the other still pale and unadorned, bounced in an ancient rhythm. Her throat fluttered with each heartbeat, the bright ink on her neck trembling slightly with each beat. He came into her with a long, shuddering gasp; an orgasm which seemed to last an eternity. When done, his balls ached from the effort. It was the next morning that the police came and took him away. As he was led to a patrol car, hands cuffed behind his back, he saw her the front seat of a nearby squad car. Her eyes were red and hollow from crying. She wore sweater with a scarf around her neck, and as his eyes locked on hers she looked away. But before she could fully turn, he caught a glimpse of the hot colors that now graced her neck, visible despite her efforts to conceal it; and it always would be. It was more than worth it. The Final Catch I really didn't want to leave any of my friends before we all moved at the end of the summer of our senior year. My two best friends were going to college in Washington DC and Rhode Island. Then my closest guy friends were going to Springfield, Pittsburgh and California. I was going to Duke. It is was a big change for all of us. The six of us were incredibly close in high school and we'd all pretty much dated each other at one point or another. The only match that happened was between Phil and I. For most of high school, he had been on and off with a girl from out of town but he dated Alyssa and Laura in between. He hadn't gotten around to me, and it's not like he didn't like me or anything because we talked and hung out all the time, we were just never serious. But at the end of high school and we're all going our separate ways, a single Phil became very alluring. We only had a week left before the first of us left for school and it was the last chance all six of us could be together, so we took a trip to the island we would frequent the last two years. Phil had found it when he was jet skiing on the river but it had a nice beach and it wasn't too far from the shore on one side so when we wanted to get away we'd go there - sometimes in smaller groups but we tried to get everyone as much as possible. So this was our last chance. And we had a great time. We did the usual stuff - some volleyball, swimming, exploring the island, the guys had their cigars and the girls had their wine coolers. It was awesome. I hoped the day wouldn't end - just the six of us enjoying life in our own little world. The day did end, though, and we had to go back. We had a small boat so we had to go back in turns - three people would go across, one comes back and takes one more and most of the stuff, then he comes back for the other two. We draw cards to see who's captain and who goes on what shift, and it just happened that Phil and I were on the last shift. So a little later, the other four had left and Phil and I were packing up the last stuff waiting for Mike to come back with the boat. We're fitting stuff in bags and I keep looking over at him and thinking how hot he was. We only come over in our swimming stuff so he was in his boxers and American Eagle swimsuit, leaving his toned arms and abs uncovered. He's a cyclist so he has to stay in shape; I do too because I'm a spin instructor so I looked pretty good in my small yellow bikini that I caught him looking at a few times. All of a sudden, my phone goes off. "Hello?" "Hey Alexa, it's Mike." "What's up? When are you getting back?" "Well that's the thing. See, when we were unloading the stuff we left the boat alone too long because we stopped to watch a video someone sent to Alyssa and it floated downstream." "Really? Can you swim after it?" "Matt tried but it's too far out of reach. And it's probably out to sea by now. We're so sorry; we're gonna go to Wal-Mart and get like a big float or something." I was kind of ticked that they'd be dumb enough to watch a video while our boat floated away and leaving me stranded. But then I realized I was stranded with Phil - not that I would mind anyone else - but I wanted to try Phil so badly and we both said we didn't have to work tomorrow. So I moved a little away from Phil. "Well you guys don't have to rush. Phil and I are okay with waiting if we have to." "We'll be as fast as we can." "Mike, you don't really have to worry about it. We're not working tomorrow; we both joked about staying anyway and it's getting late. Just get us tomorrow." "Well okay. But I'm working tomorrow, so Alyssa will come and get you." "That's fine, Mike. It's all good, just make sure the float's big enough." "Okay, see you later." I went back to where Phil was. "What was that all about?" "Well the boat floated away so we have to wait for them to get a float to get us." "How long will that be?" "I don't know." We sat down in the sand and played tick tack toe. "It looks like you did pretty good with your tan today." I prided myself on my tan. I basically go from Scandinavian to Haitian every summer. "Does it look it?" "Yeah, you look a little darker." "That just means my tan line got more obnoxious." I pulled my top a little to show the contrast and some more skin. Phil smiled a little. There was something about it that said he liked full, perky C-cups. I suggested we go back in the water, so he pulled me up and held my hand a little longer before breaking off for the water and I chased after him. We splashed and swam but honestly the water just felt nice so after a while we just floated there until the air got cold and we were freezing. We went back on shore and dried off. While I had my towel I moved my bra around because it was starting to get itchy after all day, and Phil laughed and I shot him a look, which I immediately regretted. We sat down in the sand across from each other and were talking about how upset we were about moving on and being anxious about college when I had to move my bra again. Phil laughed again. "Why do you keep doing that?" "Because it feels a little itchy; I've been wearing it all day." "Then take it off." "What?" "It's just me, Alexa. If it's bothering you don't wear it." I was giddy. So I undid the strap and caught the cups as they started to fall so my boobs let down easy and I flipped my hair for effect. I had a smirk on and Phil did too. He tried to be all cool about it, like it was no big deal that I was like three feet away from him and topless. But then he said he would miss me while I was at school. Admittedly, I was surprised. I knew he had slept with at least my two best friends and that other girl - who are all gorgeous as well - but he was saying this before we ever got close. But I wanted to capitalize on the opportunity so when he started to give me all the reasons why, I leaned in and started to close my eyes. He got the message completely. He leaned in and put his hand on my jaw and kissed me. His lips were nice and firm and when his tongue touched mine I couldn't help but move my head. It was incredible. And just like that, it was done. He had a smile when he pulled back, and he suggested going to the water's edge to watch the sunset. I said okay, and got up to put my top with my flip flops and my phone. All I could think about was how badly I wanted that man and his kiss was so obvious that he wanted it too. But he was so cool about it; he would smile at my boobs or when he kisses me but act like its almost no big deal. It was so sexy. True to form, he was sitting on the edge with his legs folded and arms around them. He smiled when I came over but held position and then looked at the sky some more. After a little he said, "It's beautiful." "Yeah," I said, and after a moment to add to the aura I leaned and rested my head on his shoulder. He put his legs down and put his arm around me. I moved in a little and he wrapped a little tighter. Our bodies were warm from the sun that day, and he was so comfortable. We kept making small talk as the sky got darker, but there was a full moon that night so we could see each other well still. As time went on I realized he was slowly moving his hand lower. He started a little above my belly button but now he was closing in on my thigh. The conversation lulled and he slid his hand just a little lower. I was almost wet by now and I moaned but I tried to make it seem like a tired yawn because I didn't want to seem more like a whore than I already was being topless. But he knew, and pulled me off just enough for him to move his head and kiss my boob. He liked it though, and my nipples were already perky so he started to suckle me. "Oh Phil." I ran my hand through his hair and he massaged the other boob with his hand and was flicking my other nipple with his tongue. I was so turned on, and I knew staying was going to pay off. I tried to reach for his bathing suit but the water was reaching our feet so he stopped and said we could go farther up the bank, so we got up and ran back. He grabbed me close and we were making out. His tongue was in my mouth and he tasted so good. My hand was on the back of his head and he started tugging on my bikini bottom. So I reach down and pulled his bathing suit and they slid right off his boxers. I couldn't believe how hard he was, but he was ready. His head was sticking out through the bottom of the boxers and I started rubbing it. He gave a really sexy moan like he was about ready to blow a load, so I broke the kiss and got on my knees. I pulled the boxers down to his ankles and his cock whipped up and hit me in the face. He had seven inches sticking straight up and I immediately put my mouth around it. Bobbing it in and out of my mouth, I kept running my tongue along his length and rubbing his stem. He couldn't stop moaning and he put his hand on my head and gave a slight push, so I slid his cock as far down my throat as I could and sucked a little and he exploded. I almost choked as it was already halfway down my throat but it shot down the rest of the way. I slid him back out and licked the cum off his shaft and put it back it so I could squeeze the rest of the cum out. It was so good and warm; it tasted so good. "Oh fuck Alexa." We were so horny by then. He got on his knees and positioned me on all fours. He slid my bottom down to my knees. He kissed my back and gave my ass a nice slap. He moved close so his cock was resting just above my ass so his balls were on me, and he rubbed my sides. He leaned in and told me I was so sexy. I couldn't help but moan when he slid his hand and touched my pussy. "Oh yeah baby! You're so wet!" Excited, he put his head right on my lips and teased just a little. He asked me if I was ready. When I said, "Oh yeah!" He went right in. How did I wait so long for him? His cock filled my pussy so well and he slowly worked his way back with every thrust, starting out slowly and getting a little faster and faster when he was all the way in. He firmly positioned his hands on my hips and put one leg like standing for better leverage because he couldn't stop now. His cock started going in and out of my pussy so fast and every time our skin slapped. My boobs kept bouncing around and Phil grabbed one and started squeezing. I threw my head back and started moaning really loudly and I didn't care. I wanted to fuck Phil and we were all alone so I could do whatever I wanted. He pounded me and his cock was so hard and I was so wet - it was so good and neither of us could stop. I didn't think he could any faster but when I told him to he started going so hard I started getting pushed. I could feel myself getting ready to cum, and when my pussy starting clamping on his cock he just about screamed. I came and drenched his cock with my juices and now with him so slippery he went a million miles an hour till he came too. We collapsed in ecstasy but we weren't done. He rolled me on to my back so he would passionately kiss me and squeeze my boobs some more. In between kisses he kept telling me I was beautiful and sexy, and how great I was. I told him I wanted more, and he was ready. I wrapped my legs around his waist and I could feel him position his cock right on the edge of my pussy and I moaned as he pushed into me. I felt like I had everything I ever wanted. This beautiful strong guy was ramming me and couldn't keep his lips off of me. His cock was amazing - so hard and it filled my pussy so well. Feeling it move in and out of me so methodically and yet so fast was unbelievable. I needed Phil then; we couldn't stop. As he got faster and faster I couldn't stop shaking. I was moaning uncontrollably and losing control. Phil was throbbing there between my legs and he was trying to plunge deeper, but he was now hitting my cervix. I could tell he was ready to cum but he slowed down to try and increase the tension. It was so incredible I was making one continuous moan and my pussy got really tight. Phil swore and ploughed in deep and I couldn't take it. I orgasmed while he was all the way in. He couldn't take it anymore and came. There was so much cum in my pussy right then, and he couldn't stand it so he started fucking me really fast. I was moving back and forth every time he pushed and my tits were flapping everywhere again. His cock was so juicy he just glided right through me. He lost control and slid out by accident. He was so pissed that it was over but I was still reeling from the excitement. I was still moaning. So he moved and put his mouth over my pussy and blew on it. The sensation was unreal. I tensed up and told him I liked it, so he leaned in and started eating me. He put his tongue anywhere he could - all along my lips, as deep as he could, flicking my clit over and over. He wanted me to cum again, and he tried so hard and it felt so good, but I was done. I wanted to cum for him and I almost couldn't handle how amazing it was but I was exhausted. After a bit he realized he'd gotten all he could so he moved up next to me and get close so his cock was resting on my tummy. He grabbed my boob again and kissed me. "What do you think, baby?" "I think I waited too long for that." "I definitely did Alexa. You are so fucking good. I knew you would be just by looking at you." "Phil that was so amazing, but I'm exhausted." "Girl you're a lot of work." "I love you Phil." He moved me so we were spooning. Feeling his cock on my back was reassuring with his strong arm around me, and I totally didn't care that I was sleeping naked with no covers with him. "I love you too." When we woke up the next morning, he said it was like an amazing dream to wake up to me naked in his arms. When we had sex again it was like there was real passion and chemistry between us. And when Alyssa showed up with were all cute with each other. That was the only time I got in with Phil, but the next time we're both home, I know exactly what I want to do with him!