0 comments/ 7827 views/ 0 favorites Urban Angel By: SapphoG The smell of sex and my lavender perfume filled my nostrils every time I breathed in. This was supposed to be a quick fuck. It was supposed to been my last shot of cock before my parents arrived for commencement. Thirty minutes at the most I thought it would last. Four hours later, I'm in a cowgirl position, covered in sweat and cum. Tommy. The young kid that swept me off my feet a year ago, was hung like a stallion, and had the stamina of thoroughbred running in the Triple Crown. Goddamn this kid could fuck my brains. I pull off of him turned and straddle him looking him in the eye. My body is weak from the the hours of physical exertion. It was almost as if I'd run a marathon. I turned right to look into a mirror. I never knew how much of a turn on seeing the reflection of me fuck could be. He reaches between us and sticks his cock into me and as I begin to rock back and forth on him, he sucks on my tits. Still in me, he stands and holds me tight by the ass and then lowers me to the floor. He pulls out and slides between my wet thighs. I could feel his hot breath between my legs, and even though I had my eyes closed, I could almost feel him looking at my labia. He loved looking and playing with my labia for some reason. He got off knowing that I'd been with other men. He liked knowing, I was more experienced than him. Fuck, it turned me on too, thinking of my sexual conquests. When his mouth wraps around my lips, I almost cried in pleasure. Like I said, I've fucked many of men and boys, but Tommy was the only guy that I've been with that actually likes eating me out after he's cum in me. He's the only guy I've been with that actually likes kissing after I've swallowed a mouth full of his cum. I had this one guy tell me that it was disgusting to kiss me after a blowjob. I'm like, I just sucked your cock and swallowed your cum, what could be more disgusting than that? Tommy was not like that and that and I think is what made me like fucking him. I grab hold of his head as he begins to probe my pink walls with his tongue. It took all but one tutorial before he realized that a tongue is no replacement for a dick, but he was adventurous and I showed him the spots to hit when he ate me. My body twitches when he hits my clit. My thighs jolt up. My breathing becomes heavy the closer I get to a climax. I turn my head to look at the clock on the wall. "Fuck, I have to pick my parents up from the airport in forty minutes." I mumble before biting my bottom lip. The feel of his tongue in me, and the slurping sound of him licking and sucking on my lips, enhance my climax. When I reach the height, my hands grab hold of his head and I push my lower body into his face. "Fuck." I scream. I didn't give a fuck at this point if anyone heard me. Most times, as soon as a cock enters me, the vulgarities begin to spew out. But fucking in a small college dorm room, I leaned to suppress my outspokenness. Barley being able to catch my breath, I touch his face gently and as he looks at me from between my legs he smiles. "I gotta go." I said. He buries his face into my trimmed bush and sucks on my labia. We've stayed in this position for hours in the past, but today was different. I could not let my parents wait long at the airport. I'd never hear the end of it. "I have to go." I slide back, but he pulls me toward him again all the while still licking between my legs. I push him off and stand. My knees buckle as I do, and as I begin to put the micro mini on, he rushes behind me, grabs my tits and begins to kiss my neck. He then bends his knees. I could feel his cock's head at the crack of my ass waiting to explore my third hole. When he found out that I was a three input girl, he flipped. But I told him he has to warn me before any anal intrusion. Most of the time, he would just out right say it, "I wanna fuck you in the ass." And I would take it. But there were time like this, when we fucked with little or no verbal communication, that I knew what he wanted by his actions, like standing behind me and breathing heavy on my neck. When he did this, I'd close my eyes and wait. "You ready?" He whispered in my ear. I nod my head and take a deep breath. I could hear people moving in the hall, so I did not want to scream, but no matter how much I like anal sex, it hurts and I scream. I reach behind me and grabbed his neck and when he enters me, I let out a quick, "FUCK." His left hand slides down my soaking wet abs and when he gets to my cunt, he grabs a hand full of hair and pulls. "That fucking hurts." I said to him. Pulling on my pubic hair hurts more than a dick in the ass. He pushes me over and then pulls on my long blond hair. His grips became tighter the more he thrust his shaft into my ass. The more he thrusts the more violent to me he becomes. There was something about anal sex with him that turned him into a monster. We could have hot passionate straight sex and he would kiss me, suck on me, lick me, but as soon as he enters my ass, he changed. It was a bit degrading, but shit, but I liked it, and I would like this even more if I didn't have to be at an airport an hour away, in thirty minutes. When I hear him grunt my name that means it was time for the money shot... ass to mouth. He steps back. I turn around and kneel in front of him. The first shot of cum goes in my hair, the second, smaller, hits my forehead and slides down my face. I look up at him. He looks down and grabs my head with both hands and pulls me into him. When my mouth wraps around his wet cock, his knees buckle and his grip tightens. "I want to cum in your mouth one last time. Make me cum one last time and I'll let you go. Please Emmy." I grab his butt cheeks with both hands and begin to suck on his cock. I glance up at him as I move back and forth on him. His eyes roll into his head, droll drips out his wide open mouth the close I bring him to cum, and when does cum, he loosens the grip on my hair and moans. I could taste his saltiness filling my mouth, and when his twitching is over, I slowly move off of him and stand. He grabs me by the neck with his right hand, and runs his thumb across my face. I open my mouth to let him see his pool of seed mixed with my saliva. He looked at me as streams of cum oozed out of mouth and down my neck. He lowers his face to where it's within inches of mine. I could feel his warm breath touching my lips. Most of the time, I've swallowed by this point. God only knows why I kept the sperm idle in my mouth now. Soon though, his lips touch mine. The kiss was soft at first, but then he grabs my hair and pushes my face into his. Our lips lock and as I opened my mouth, cum came gushing out. I grabbed hold of his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist and entered his mouth with my tongue. I gave him a wet, cummy good bye French kiss. I then leaned my head back and swallowed what was left. "I love you." He said. I lowered myself off of him and walked to the other end of the room, picked up my skirt and top. I put my clothes on and as I walked out the room, I turned to him, and said, "I know." I glanced at my watch running out of the dorm. "Shit." I said as I wiped the cum from the face of it. "Fuck." I screamed when I realized that I had fifteen minutes to pick up my parents. When I entered the Mercedes, and turned the ignition, the phone in the armrest rand. "Fuck, fuck fuck fucking fuck." The only person that has this number is my father, and if he's calling it, that means he and my mother arrived. "Fuck." I cleared my throat and took a deep breath, "Hey dad, what's up?" "This is your mother Emilia." Pulling out of the parking lot, I silently curse, "Fuck. Oh hey." "We've been trying to call you but you didn't answer." "I'm so sorry I had the radio on blast." "How long are you going to be? We landed early and we wanted to take you out to lunch." "Lunch? How early did you guys land?" "We've been here at the lounge for four hours." Fucking think hard Emmy. Say something that can smooth this over. "I'm sorry, but I was with my boyfriend and one thing lead to another..." "Dear god, I don't want to hear any more. Just get here as soon as you can." My mother was the only person I could talk to about anything, including sex. And although I was late picking them up, she'd understand if I just told the truth. Even if that was admitting that I'd been fucking for the last three hours. Dad on the other hand, oh dear god, the man thinks I'm still a virgin. And my mother and I let him think that. I've pretty much concluded that I'll be a virgin until marriage. While at a stop light, I look into the rear mirror and see a glob of cum in my hair. I look down and white halter is soaked from sweat and the car reeks of sex. "Fuck me." I had no time to go home and change, but thank god there was a Wal-Mart not far from the airport. As I run into the store, I notice people looking at me, men in particular. I walk past a mirror and to my horror my tits are hanging out. "Fuck." I dodge behind a pile of apples and tie up the halter and rush to misses section. I grab a T-shirt and pair skirt. As I run to the check out aisle, I bump into a classmate. "Emmy? This is the last place I'd thought I would ever see you." I grin and hold up my outfit and smile, "Who doesn't like a bargain?" When I get back to the car, I strip and fiddle for my keys, when I reach for my safety belt I notice a teen age boy smiling at me from the window of the car next to me. I gasp and put on ,my new top. I reach the air port and drive to the arrival section where I see my mother and father standing. I smile and look down, realizing I had nothing on. "Shit." I reach for the new skirt and while behind a shuttle bus slide it on. I breathe a sigh of relief and then reach into the glove compartment for my perfume. I spray it a couple of times and roll the windows down. My father smiles as I pull up. I get out and run over to him and give him a hug and kiss. My mother gives me a very stern look before giving me a kiss. She reaches behind me and takes the tag off my shirt. "Am I going to meet this boy?" "Uh, no." "Christ, I've raised a whore." I look behind me at my father helping the redcap put the luggage into the trunk. "I'm not a whore mother. I'm just a girl who likes sex." "What's the difference?" "Stop acting as if dad was your first." "I'm not acting as if he was my first. I'm trying to protect him from your dumb fuck ups." Damn, I pose nude for a guy who happened to a photographer for Hustler magazine and I never hear the end of it. My mother though, pulled some strings, got the proofs and the film and managed to get the guy arrested on child pornography charges. My mother touches my face and smiles, "Darling you're my only child. I love you with all my heart. My husband, your father seems to think you're this perfect little angel and if he finds out your slutty little whore, it would break his heart. You've seen what I've done to those who take advantage of you. Heed those warnings. I don't want to have to hurt my only child." "Yes ma'am." She certainly has a way of making me feel guilty. Urban Angel Ch. 02 HARLEM, USA Although Harlem is but a few thousand yards from some of the wealthiest families in the country, most do not cross 110th street, for that means coming face to face with the ugly realities of life. On a hot summer's day, like today, fire plugs are turned on full blast. Children from the neighborhood run around soaked, doing their best to remain cool. On every corner, square freezers serve flavored shaved ice, and like the pied piper, a Mr. Softy truck slowly drives down every block with a trail of children running behind it. The air is thick with humanity and although the weather today has been expected to hit 102 degrees, now at one in the afternoon the temperature has hit 98. People trying their best to beat the heat sit on stoops fanning their selves drinking fresh brewed iced tea or homemade lemon aide. A black Lincoln town car with municipal plates comes to a stop at the corner of 112th and Malcolm X Boulevard. Three boys run in front of it to catch the ice cream truck that has just passed. The two men in the car draw attention to themselves by their dress. Their suits and ties and being white make them stand out, even in a car with tinted windows. The only white folks that cross these streets are Police and college students looking to score, weed of smack, so when a child sees the men, he logically concludes the are one of the former. "Po Po." A child screams as they ride past the fire hydrant that he plays in. "Why are we interested in this place?" The man in the passenger side asks. "I can sum it up in one word, gentrification. Gentrification means more government money, more taxes, more tax breaks, a better local economy, a better economy a better New York, a better New York, more votes, more votes, more terms in office. It's that simple, gentrify, gentrify, gentrify." "Why can't we just impose Eminent Domain?" "We're not building a highway, so we have to think of more industrious ways to move out the old and bring in the new." Parked to the side of 127th and Lenox, Officer Lewis Newton waits in his patrol car for the black Lincoln. When he sees it pull up behind him, he opens his door and walks to the drive side. The driver rolls the window down and nods. "We need you for back up." "What kind of back up?" "Follow me." The loud thump of music blasting at rock concert decibels can be heard from the parking lot of the Black Bird Gentlemen's club. A valet runs up to the black Lincoln and opens the door. "Welcome Sir." He says as the two men step out. The driver hands the valet a ten and looks over to Lewis, walking towards them, and gestures for the men to follow him. Lewis stands waiting in front of a large blue wood door and as he opens it the music from inside pushes its way out. The two men drop their heads in sync and walk behind Lewis. A six foot five bald black man towers over them, looks at Lewis and the two men standing behind him and says, "Welcome to the Black Bird." Lewis looks up at him and smiles and then yells, "They want to see Maurice." Barely above a whisper had the man responded. "Maurice is a very busy man." "He owes me a favor. Tell him I'm collecting." Lewis says. The doorman steps away and disappears into the sea of half-naked women, bottle girls and patrons. Lewis turns and looks at the men and says, "Now you owe me a favor." For the two men the noise becomes unbearable as they stand silent scanning the large open floor. Men throw dollar bills at women as they dance on stages, swinging from poles and grinding on laps to the baselines of the music being played by a DJ high above in the rafters. Lewis nods his head at the two men and smiles as a young woman takes her top off in front of him. "I'll be with her if you need me." The bouncer knocks on a door marked, 'Private' before entering. He then walks up a short flight of steps and excuses himself. "Maurice, you got some visitors." Maurice swivels around in his chair and looks out the two way mirror, overlooking the club. He sees the two well-dressed white men, brushing off the advances of the three topless women and asks, "Police?" "No. Well, one of them is, Lewis." "What the fuck does he want?" "He said, he's collecting a debt and wants you to speak with some friends of his." "Who are they?" A man lying on his back on a leather sofa, smoking a cigar asks. Maurice shrugs his shoulders and gestures for the bouncer to let them up. The bouncer emerges from the back of the club and whistle, waving for the men to follow. The two men look at each other and walk towards him, continually brushing off the girls in the club. The bouncer walks them through a maze of dressing areas, passing topless women putting on makeup before approaching the door that leads to a set of stairs. He point up, "He's waiting for you." When they enter the room, a man approaches them, pats them down and points to two chairs in front of a desk Maurice walks out from a bathroom zipping his pants. He then sits behind a desk, props his feet on the top, tilts his head and examines his visitors. "You ain't cops. I can tell that from the way you're dressed." "My name is Roland Girard and I want to make you an offer for the property you own, on 110th." Maurice shakes his head and leans back in his chair. "Not for sale." "You haven't heard my offer." "Whatever it is, I'm not interested." "I'm offering five..." The man sitting next to Roland leans forward in his chair. "We can make things bad for you." Maurice rolls his head and laughs along with the other men in the room. He drops his feet, slides his chair closer to the man and sneers. "Who the fuck, are you?" "That's John Morales." A voice from the back of the room says. Roland and John turn to see the man in the corner of the room, smoking a cigar lying on a leather couch. "Who the fuck is John Morales?" Maurice asks. The man on the couch leans up and slides around. He takes a puff of his cigar and blows a smoke ring. "Chief of Staff for Saperstein." "The Mayor?" Maurice asks. "Yeah." "You know me, now who are you?" Johns asks. He shrugs his shoulders and rests his cigar on an ashtray. He then walks over to Maurice's desk and sits on the edge. "I'm nobody. I just read the newspapers." He says before turning his head to Roland. "And I know who you are too, Mr. Real Estate developer." He point to Maurice and smiles. "I told you that property would be worth something one day." "See, your own man knows the value of it." Roland says. "Don't do it Mo. Whatever these crackers are offering you, is peanuts compared to what it's really worth." "You're going to listen to him?" John asks. Maurice shrugs his shoulders. "He told me to buy." John grabs a piece of paper form the desk and reaches in his jacket pocket. He pulls out a gold pen and writes his number down. "You got ten hour to sell. Call me when you're ready." "Or else?" Maurice asks. "Decline the offer and find out." Maurice laughs and stands up from his chair coming within inches of John's faces. "You come to my house and threaten me. Tell me why I shouldn't kill you right now?" "We have back up." Roland says. Maurice and other men break into a hysterical laughter. "Lewis?" Maurice asks. "Lewis is your back up? All I gotta to do is give him credits for free lap dances and he'll look the other way." John gestures for Roland to follow him out the door and before leaving John looks back at Maurice and says, "You got ten hours." Maurice sits down in his chair and leans back folding his hands. "Offer declined." John shrugs his shoulders uncaring and leaves. John and Roland scan the floor for Lewis and makes eye contact with the bouncer, who point to a section closed off by a red velvet curtain. John walks over and pulls the curtain open, and rolls his eyes at Lewis who is receiving a lap dance. He then shouts, "Lewis." Lewis opens his eyes and pushes the woman off of him and takes a twenty dollar bill from his pocket. He hands it to the girl and gives her a kiss on the cheek. "You have a serious problem." John says. "I got a job for you." "What is it?" "We need to send a message." CHAPTER THREE The chastising my mother gave me for my being a promiscuous whore, just made me want to rebel. I wanted to fuck anything with a pulse, but then my anger subsided and I took them out to dinner. Connecting with my parents felt good. I forgot about my fights with mother, and genuinely looked forward to starting reality. I think getting a double doctorate was just me subconsciously trying to avoid reality. And if I could, I would've spent the rest of my life in college. My eyes, for some reason are drawn to the other end of the restaurant stopping at a sight that makes my heart drop. Oh fuck, I thought. The guy sitting with a woman and three kids, used to be a boyfriend of mine. God just the mere sight of him made memories of orgies and getting high at Berkley. He makes eye contact with me and smiles. As he stands and walks toward out table, all I could think of is shit; I'm out of my inheritance. "Emmy? I thought that was you." He said. I looked up and smiled. "Mom dad this is Bobby. We went to Berkley together." "Well she graduated, I didn't." My mother gave him this cursory glance, almost like he was beneath her and her child. It really pissed me off when my mother did that because I knew her past. Her dark, top secret, sordid past and trust me when I say, she had no room to look at anyone that way. I rolled my eyes at her and stood up giving Bobby a kiss on the cheek. "He had family problems. I used to cheat off him in Philosophy 110." He glances back at me and flags me, "It was just the opposite. Well it was wonderful seeing you again Emmy." When he walks away, my father looked at me and said, "Nice kid." The look on my mother's face I could read as asking, "Did you fuck him?" Geez I don't know why she was so concerned about my sex life, I mean I'm twenty six and yeah I've had many, many lover, slash that, sex partners, but I wasn't some out of control whore. My father touches my hands and, said, "Well angel, welcome to reality. Here is what I've got for you. Assuming you do want to work for me." "Of course I do. It's been my dream to work with you." "Okay, so I'll give you a few options. The first is this. I can make you Editor and Chief..." All I heard was Editor and Chief and my heart pounded out of my chest. "I'm going to be Editor and Chief of the Tribune?" My mother broke out in hysterical laughter. My father leaned back in his seat and reached into his pants pocket, pulls out a one hundred dollar bill and hands it to my mother. "I told you, I know my child." "What was that about?" I asked. "Your mother bet me, you would think I was going to make you Editor of the Tribune." He leaned forward and looked at me, "What made you think? Never mind. I can make you Editor and Chief of the Miami Herald." "Miami? I don't want to live in Miami. I want to be in New York City." "Well here is what I have for you. You can start as a beat reporter and work your way up. Learn the streets, make contact. I want you to bring something to the table. Just because you're my child, doesn't mean you get a free ride." He took my hands and kissed them. "Do you understand?" "Yeah." At this point, I was pissed. The reason I majored in journalism is because I knew my father would hire me as an Editor, not a fucking reporter. I huffed away from the table and walked to the back of the place to where I saw Bobby standing outside the bathroom. When I reach him, I push him and punch him in the stomach, "What the fuck man?" "What is wrong with you?" He said "You motherfucker. Where the fuck you been hiding?" "Emmy, I needed to..." "You needed to what fuck face? "Emmy I needed to leave you. I had to." "Why?" "Because you're a brat and all you cared about was fucking and getting high. You had the trust fund. You could walk away from me at any minute and never look back. I needed to get control of my life and the only way I could do that was leaving you." I stepped back from him and lowered my head. When I reflected on our relationship, I could see in hindsight, that only reason I was with him was because he access to some of the best weed on campus. Fuck, was I that shallow? "Was I that bad?" He touches my face and looked me in the eyes, "Yes you were." I punched him in the stomach and laughed, "Shut up motherfucker." I step toward him and grab his waist, pulling him toward me. "I masturbate to the things we did all those years ago." He leans his head back and closed his eyes, "Yeah. So do I." "You wanna hook up for old times' sake?" "You know, I would but..." I pushed him to a dark corner and raise my skirt. He looks down at my clean shaved cunts and bites his lip. "I...I can't Emmy." I begin to unzip his pants, but before I could get his cock out, he pushes me away from him, and says, "I married." "Shut up." "I am, for two years. I have a wonder wife and two beautiful step kids." "Step kids? You married a bitch with kids? I thought you were smarter than that?" "She changed my life." "Are you happy?" He leaned his head back against the wall and sighs. "I'm content." "That's not what I asked you." He began to walk away from me and in passing said, "Yes I am happy." I was stunned. I was rejected. He turned me down. I don't believe it. Was I losing my touch, or was he really in love? "Graduation is at noon. I'll be by the north bleachers at eleven if you change your mind." He stops and turned. "You don't give up. I'm happy Emmy." "Okay." The day of graduation, I stood at the north end waiting. I know I know it was a bruised ego but I'd be damn if I let another woman make a man I spent two years with, happy. I looked at my watch and sighed. It was twenty of and I had to be on stage by noon. I don't believe it. A quarter of and just when I thought it was over... "I'm happy, but." He says as he grabs me from behind. "What changed your mind?" He unzips my gown and grabs my tits. "No bra?" "I knew you were coming." "Liar." "I've got ten minutes." I step out of my gown revealing my naked body. He unzips his pants and pulls his cock out. As I step closer to him, he grabs me and enters me. "Fuck I miss you." I wrapped my legs around him and began to bounce. I reach up and grab hold of a steel rafter and let him pound away at me. I glanced at my watch, "Fuck. Two minutes." He motions faster and leans forward to kiss my tits. He looked up at me and, said, "I'm about to cum." I lowered my legs and dropped to my knees. I then wrapped my mouth around his cock and waited for him. About ten seconds later, a stream of hot sperm filled my mouth. I wiped my mouth and stood up. As I reached over to grab my robe, he rushes toward me and stick his cock in my ass. He then grabs my hair and pulls me up and toward him. I pushed him off of me and zipped up my gown. I turned and blew him a kiss, "See if you wife will let you do that to her. Have a nice life, fuck face." The sun beat down on the crowd of about twenty thousand, and I walked toward the podium, I felt a bit of nervousness. I stood there glances out at the faces of the crowd, some I knew, some I didn't. Some I fucked, some I wished I would've fucked, but that's neither here or there. After today, after this speech, I was coming face to face with a harsh world. "This is our day. This is our decade and we the Graduates of Stanford University will seize this world with our knowledge, grace, wisdom and power. Scream if you hear me, for we are the greatest fucking class this university has ever witness..." NEW YORK CITY, 1970 Deep under the canyons of New York City, the concrete, asphalt, tar and granite, steel snakes slither shuttling souls in and out the darkness like the infernal ferryman Phlegyas. The final stop for many on these rides through the urban river Styx is the center of the Universe and laying foot onto the grit of its many platforms, the weary travelers comes to the instant realization they are not in the imaginary world of an 13th century exiled Italian poet with a grudge. A man blowing into a tarnished saxophone nods to a case on the concrete floor indicating to passerby's that he would like for them to drop in a coin or two. An old woman slouches on a wood bench holding a bottle wrapped in a crinkled brown paper bag in her left hand, the liquid inside spills out forming a puddle below her foot. Panhandlers pick pockets of wallets and cash accosting the mindless souls of this modern day Dis who weep and grieve over their eternal damned condition of rut and drudgery. The walkways and stairs of this underworld can be overwhelming, confusing, fearful making a visitor feel like a rats trying to claw its way out of these pits, to freedom. Take for instance, the young man and his new wife who chose to honeymoon in New York City because of the excitement, but after missing their stop and wandering about the dirt, soot and darken halls reminiscent of a biblical depictions of hell, they stop and collect their thoughts. They begin to say to each other, "how hard can it be to find a way back to the hotel. It's at 59th and according to a sign on the wall, they are now at 42nd." After stepping over the legs of a homeless man sleeping on a bed of cardboard boxes, and dodging a panhandler, they come face to face with words they both have seen on television shows and postcards...New York/New Jersey Port Authority Bus Terminal. As they exit the turnstile and climb out of the pit of despair and before stepping onto Eighth Avenue and Forty Second, their hearts pound in their chest as their ears catch the sounds of music blasting, voices resonating in the air, horns honking and man shouting about the end of the world. Reaching the light of artificial day, they come to face with modern day Gomorra, a place family members made them swear they would not go. But as with everything forbidden they are attracted to the damned strip like the cliché of the moth to the fire. Hitting the streets and stepping out from under the iron rafters of the Port Authority they wipe their eyes, for the neon lights of billboards, theater marquees and triple X rated shows singe their virgin pupils. The one block walk from Eighth Avenue to Seventh feels to them like a million years, for they stare and examine every marquis. Along the way, women dressed in their tackiest best try to allure the innocent wonderers with propositions that have them questioning whether they've lived life to the fullest. A man dressed in a grey flannel suit bumps into them as he steps out of a dark steam filled alley followed by a woman, who has just serviced him, wrapped in a three quarter length faux leopard coat trying to balance on six inch stiletto heels, chew gum and count money at the same time. The couple continues their walk passed pimps, dressed in audacious faux exotic prints wearing large brimmed hats strutting as if they rule world while out of town John's close inconspicuous deals with the women under their watchful eyes. Two women approach a sailor on shore leave. They rub their hands up and down his pea coat and tip his hat to the side before asking, "What's your name big boy?" He smiles and as he walks away with a woman on either arm, he says, "You can call me Ishmael." Eventually the innocent two come face to face with the residence of Olympus stepping out of the latest show. The young woman loosens the grip on her husband's arm. Her mouth drops at the sight of goddesses in full length mink coats clinging to the arms of their cigar chomping, tuxedo clad, demigods of industry and finance. Flawless diamonds dangle around dainty necks, reflect lights of cars, gas lights and the night luminary, casting a hypnotic prism in the shadows revealing activities that should be only for the dark. Urban Angel Ch. 02 Brushing up against the fur, Channel and Gucci a young child outfitted in a torn coat and fingerless gloves begs for money, playing on the heartstrings of the philanthropic crowd all the while picking their pockets of cash and wrists of gold watches. This is Broadway. This is the one square mile of aspirations and dreams that shatter like the vanity mirror of a hot tempered starlet. This is the place where the ruling class and the residence of the seedy underbelly of New York society meet, neither of the two acknowledging the other existence. A place that has the young couple from Kansas petrified they will indulge in some kind of cardinal sin that will condemn them to a lifetime of torture in the second ring of hell. When they reach Seventh Avenue and Forty second, they hail a cab, jumps in before it can come to a complete stop and scream, "The Plaza, Central Park South, now." It's been four days now since being back. I look out the window of the Tribune's headquarters and take a deep breath. "God I love this city." I turn and walk back to my desk and notice a man, in the cubicle next to mine, throwing out pictures and other personal items. "Can I ask why you're throwing out pictures of your girlfriend?" He looks up at me and cuts his eyes, "No. And she's my wife not girlfriend." "Oh, okay." The phone on my desk rings just in time. "Tribune, this is Emilia." "Emmy, hey this is Jacqu(Jack)." "Hey." "You wanna join me for dinner tonight?" "Yeah sounds good, where? "Toot Shor at six." "I'll be there. The guy next to me looks at me and frowns. "What?" I ask. "What's your name?" "Emilia." He leans back in his chair and grins. "You're not Frankie's kid are you?" "That would be me. Why do you ask?" "He's been talking about you for years, and all the academic achievements you've made, I was expecting" He looks me up and down. "You to be wearing a pocket protector and thick horn rimmed glasses." "Sorry to disappoint." He stands and holds his out toward me and smiles, "Mario. And I'm sorry for snapping at you." He sighs and runs his hands through his hair. "My wife of five years just left me." "Why?" "She started taking classes at City U, and got hooked up with some hippie, pot smoking, dashiki wearing artist motherfuckers. She wanted to explore the Universe." I'm doing my best not to laugh at the man's problems, but that Statement is just funny to me. "What?" "You heard me; she wanted to explore the universe. My father's secretary drops something off to Mario and then looks at me, "Your father wants to see you Emilia." "Thanks." God I thought, what could he want? "Yeah, you wanted to see me?" "What are you working on?" "What do mean." He looks up from his desk and shoots a parental glare. "I'm not paying you to sit around and eat lunch with your friends. What are you working on? And don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about." "I'm looking for something, but I..." "You live in a city that has eight million residences. We have the highest crime rate in the world, and you mean to tell me you can't find anything to report on?" "I, I..." "You have three days to give me something. It doesn't have to be the whole story, I just want potential. That's it." "Okay." My heart is in my chest. Shit man. I want something, but I want it big. I don't want to report on some shitty, two bit crime. I plop in my chair and sigh in anguish. "What's wrong?" Mario asks. "I have to have 'A-Matter' in five days." "What?" I look at him and frown. "'A-Matter, you know an outline of something." Mario laughs at me, "Nobody around here uses collegiate terms." "Oh, well I don't know where to start. It's different from being a part of a College newspaper." "My family is having a cook out this weekend, why don't you come over and I'll introduce you to my brother and his wife. He's a Detective and she a trauma nurse." "Those are your connections." "Trust me; I don't want to write anything they know. I'm a sport reporter." I'm at the point of getting impatient waiting for my friend Jacqu. Her real name is Innocence Jacqueline. My stories are nothing compared to her's, and every time I meet up with her, something happens. Her mother and father died a few months ago and left her with the family business to run, that's pretty normal. I know a lot of twenty something year olds that hold down a business. But here's the catch. She has to not only run it, but turn a profit of five million dollars in two years in order to get the total inheritance of ninety million dollars. The family business? Smut, or porn. Jacqu used to be as her name implies, innocent, but within a few short months she's gone on to be a coke snorting, alcohol drinking whore. Yeah, like I have room to talk. A man in a cheap suit pretending not to be married sits next me and begins hitting on me. When I look at the mirror I can see Jacqu walking in. I try my best to brush off the man, but he just refused to go away. Jacqu walks up behind me and runs her right hand down my blouse and kisses me on the neck. She looks at the guy and flashes a stern look, "She doesn't play ball motherfucker." "Thanks." She looks at the bartender and nods to the top shelf, "Jack on the rocks, and Heineken." "Are you okay?" "No I'm not. Fucking lawyers are trying to fuck me out of my money." "What's going on?" She looks at me and smiles. She touches my face and leans forward. Lips are inches away from each other. She moves closer and our lips lock. She then breaks away and takes back the shot. "I don't want to bore you." As she drinks her beer, the straps of her sundress fall off her smooth shoulders. When she turns toward me, her dress gets bunched up. Her left breast becomes exposed. I lean over and cover it up. "Have you fucked anybody since being back?" She asks. I sigh and shake my head, "Unfortunately no. I don't think I've ever gone five days without cock." She throws a ten dollar bill on the bar and grabs my hand, "Come home with me and help me work off some stress." "Jacqu, I don't go that way." "Bullshit. What about Christmas '69, when you and I were in a 69." "I was stoned." "Listen, I love dick, but occasional I like to bury my face in a well fuck pussy like yours." She grabs my arm and pulls me off the stool. "Come on." While on the platform of the 2 train, she stands behind me and runs her hand down my dress. She then kisses my neck and whispers in my ear, "No panties?" "I like being prepared." She hikes my dress up and kneels in front of me and begins to lick my pussy. The thrill of seeing other people look on was amazing. I've never been one to fuck in public places, but the rush is something else. She stands up and grabs my hair and kisses me on the lips. Our tongues play with each other as the hotter the passion becomes. Her right middle finger enters my cunt. She begins to move it around in me and when her French manicured nails hit my clit, I almost become weak. I break from the kiss and lean back and moan which is muffled by the roar of the express train. When she pulls her finger out of me, she touches my clit again, this time my knees buckle. I open my eyes and turn my head to the left and see a man on the bench looking at us. God this sight must have been every man's dream, seeing two blonds who look like sisters making out on subway platform. Jacqu steps back and licks the finger that was in me. I move behind her and run my hands down her chest. I then kiss her on the neck. When I lift her dress up, I can feel the wind of the oncoming train approaching. The train whizzes into the station and comes to a stop. The both of us were in such a deep passionate trance; we didn't notice the trains stopping until the doors open. We step on and sit next to each other holding hands. She leans forward in her seat and runs her hands through her hair, in a distressful manner. "What's wrong?" "It's this fucking business. This porn thing is not me. It's not me." "So, why don't you just let it go?" "I'll lose everything if I do." "Is it worth it?" She shrugs her shoulders and sighs. She then looks at me. "Stay with me tonight. Please." "Okay." From the moment our clothes were off, we never left each other. She lies on the bed and spread her legs waiting me. When my face is between her thighs I laugh, because I now see what Tommy was so obsessed about. Her pussy is beautiful. The labia was about three inches in length and spread open at the end revealing her pink. It was the most beautiful shade of pink I'd ever seen. When my tongue enters her, she grabs my head and places her legs over my shoulder, grinding her cunt into my mouth. I begin to suck on her lips, before I move up to her chest. Her tits were small, and her nipples were thick and begged to be sucked and played on. She moves my head from the left breast to the right. She then moves my head off her chest and when our eyes lock, she grins. "Turn over." She says. When I turn over she moves to the end of the bed and grabs my left breast with her right hand, and uses her left four fingers to enter me. Her movement becomes forceful and rough the more I squirm. Eventually my lose pussy devours her hand. I can feel her making a fist in me. She moves deeper into my cavity, three quarters of arm is now in me. She begins to twist her arm. The intense feeling is overwhelming that I almost pass out. Slowly she begins to pull out of me, and when she does, I scream at top of my lungs, "FUCK." My abdomen twitches and tightens. "What the fuck just happened?" I asks. She leans down and kisses me on the lips. My body is so limp I can barely move, but I eventually am able to grab hold of her long hair. I pull her head back and look into her eyes. "Your fist is still no match for dick."