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Mac and Me

By: silverace1



She had the most unusual name I had ever heard – Mac. It wasn't short for any feminine name or even a shortened patronymic (meaning she was named after her father or a favoured uncle). No; just Mac.

I first saw her at a business affair I was attending for my company in another town. She was across the room at the wine and cheese reception and I could hear her throaty laugh as she amused herself at hearing someone's witticism. My eyes were drawn to her from the first moment; she wasn't tall or what could be called sexy. Not your stereotypical 'California' girl with blonde hair, blue eyes and big boobs.

No, she was the direct opposite. No more than 5 ft or perhaps 5 ft 1 ", short red hair curly at the ends and mesmerizing green eyes that seems to sparkle across the room. I was entranced! As I ran my eyes wantonly down her figure, I could see that she was very small breasted, slim of waist and hips. She was wearing a floor length gown of some clinging green material. It was fastened over one shoulder with some sort of clip leaving the other shoulder bare. It almost, but not quite, hid her charms from view. 

I had to meet this lady! After all, I was a divorced man for over two years; after finding my wife in the all too clichéd arms of my best friend, I swore off women and hadn't had sex since the divorce. Instead I buried myself in my work. I suppose the rapid advancement in my work was the reason I was told to attend this rather boring convention. After all, just how fascinating can lecture after lecture on economics be! I was ready to bail on the conference and fly home the next day until I saw her.

As I gazed at her with lustful eyes, she suddenly turned her head from the group she was chatting with and caught me in the act. Rather then be put off – I actually blushed at being caught – she smiled, winked at me and started towards me. Oh lord! Now what do I do? I am way out of practice in dealing with the opposite sex and really rather shy around them. She approached me until she was so close I could smell the faint aroma of her clean unscented skin.

She looked up into my eyes – I stood almost a foot taller than she – and said simply "Hi, My name is Max. Who are you?"

I almost forgot my own name I was so nervous but finally managed to stammer out "I'm Robert"

"Hi Robert" as her hand reach up for mine. "I am pleased to meet you. I couldn't help but see you watching me across the room. In fact, I could sense your eyes on me even before I turned around. Why were you staring?"

She certainly was short (no pun intended) and to the point. Still blushing somewhat, I finally had to answer and the best I could do was to blurt out "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen"

As the words tumbled out of my mouth, I was sure I had screwed it up totally; one doesn't come out with that to a virtual stranger! Mac reacted very quickly; she stood on tiptoes and with her hands on my shoulders whispered into my ear "Thank you, Robert. I think you are a handsome man and would love to get to know you better"

Amazing! I must be living in a dream! I have always considered myself plain of feature and build (certainly my ex wife had assured me of that fact), so her words were like a fresh tonic to my bruised ego. Mustering all my courage, I asked her if she would do me the honour of having dinner with me. She immediately took my hand in hers and nodded her agreement.

Since I was new to town, I asked her if she knew of a nice quiet restaurant of that served the kind of food that she enjoyed. I was pleased when she mentioned an Italian bistro within walking distance of the hotel we were in (and where I had my room) and we decided since the night was so balmy, we would walk there to enjoy the night and each other's company.

We walked for about half an hour to the restaurant and chatted non-stop. Mac was a very well spoken young lady (I learned she was actually in her early 30's to my early 50's) and was a divorcee of some 3 years. When she surprised me by asking why I divorced, I surprised myself by telling her all the gory details of the acrimonious split. Apparently hers was a similar story and we commiserated through our meal about past woes and hopes for the future.

In the ensuing three hours we lingered over our dinner and wine (two bottles), we learned we had much in common including, but far from limited to, the fact that neither of us has been in a relationship or had sex since our divorces! Now that fact came out of nowhere – it must have been the wine lowering our defences to have become close enough to admit that.

We walked arm-in-arm along the quiet boulevard after we closed the restaurant and headed back towards the hotel. By this time, we were both well into the cups and were feeling a little frisky. As we passed a park bench, I turned suddenly and, placing my hands on her waist, lifted her up on the seat. As a result, we were face to face and I leaned forward as I cupped her soft cheeks in my hands to kiss her gently on her lips. I could taste the spices for our shared dinner as well as the recently imbibed wine as she pressed her lips against mine in return.

I felt that time had stood still as Mac moved into my arms and her tongue pressed against my lips until I opened them to welcome her in. We both moaned slightly as we felt the heat of our mutual need and arousal rising. I pulled away from her breathlessly and asked her "Would you spend the night with me, my love?"

"Oh yes, please! It has been so long for both of us"

I helped her down from the bench and we hurried back to the hotel. As soon as the elevator doors closed and we were speeding up to my 12th floor room, I pulled her upwards into my arms as kissed her deeply and fervently. I could feel her swinging slightly and I looked quickly in the mirror just before the doors opened to see that her feet were actually off the ground as she wrapped her arms around my neck! For some reason, this really excited me; it was like I was making love to a child but she was definitely a woman who knew what she wanted.

Rushing hand in hand and giggling down the hall, I fumbled to get my card key into the lock; finally we fell into the room and I backed her against the door raining kisses all over her face. She pushed me back until we were standing in the middle of the room with only the city lights providing illumination through the large windows.

Placing a finger across my lips to signal silence, Mac stepped back a few steps and, reaching up to the shoulder where the gown was clipped and with a deft twist of her fingers, the gown rustled into a pool at her feet. She stood before me as if bewitched; she was totally nude except her sandals that she kicked aside. Her small breasts were tipped with dimpled aureole and small pink nipples that were growing hard as I watched. Her flat tummy led to a tuft of reddish hair pointing down to her slightly protruding outer labia. 

"My God! You are perfect!" was all I could manage to say. At that she smiled, came forward and lifted her hands to my face and pulled me down to her lips as we kissed long and tenderly. She then, without a word, proceeded to undress me until we stood close together feeling the heat of rising passion flow between us.

I fell to my knees to worship this goddess who was giving herself to me. As my lips found her turgid nipples, she twisted her hands in my hair to pull me harder into her. My mouth almost was able to swallow her tiny breast as I sucked and tongued every sensitive surface. My hands cupped her perfect tight bum and I pulled her body tightly against me. As I did, I could feel the dampness and heat emanating from between her legs and I slipped my finger between the crack of her ass to slide against the slickness of her excited pussy. She cried out my name as she rode my fingers.

I stood and lifted her easily into my arms – she couldn't be more than 100 lbs! I felt so blessed that this woman was to be my first in so long. I carried her over to the bed and, throwing the sheets aside, laid her in the centre of the king sized bed. I found some candles in the bedside table (blackouts were so common in this city that all hotels supplied several candles and holders along with matches in case of emergencies) and lit them to better see this glorious creature.

She stretched her arms out to me and purred, "Come here, darling!"

With dispatch, I climbed into bed beside her and we wrapped ourselves together in a close embrace with her legs wrapped around my thigh. As we kissed over and over, her hips were humping my leg and I could feel her cum and it gushed from her hot core. She cried out again as an orgasm – her first she told me later – overcame her. It seems that her husband was a selfish man who was quick in/quick out the few times they made love. I kissed my way down her body, pausing to make love to each breast and their crowning hard nipples.

As I neared her molten centre, She raised her legs to her chest and I lay between those delicious legs and blew gently into the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. Her pussy was opening like the petals of a rose and glistened with the dewy drops of her arousal. I could smell the musky odour and could no longer wait to feast on her offering. I ran my tongue from the bottom of her slit, across the sensitive perineum and circled her anus. She gasped as she felt my tongue where no man had ever touched her.

I moved up her slit – so open and wet – sucking on her outer lips as I moved towards that most sensitive of prizes; her clit. I could see it protruding invitingly from its hood and my lips found it as I drew it gently into my mouth. As I sucked on that little nubbin, I slid two crossed fingers slowly into her open pussy as far as they would go. She gasped with the fullness in her tightening cunt. Her pussy walls clamped down on the invading fingers as she convulsed in yet another wrenching orgasm. Her cum soaked my hand and I pulled my fingers out to noisily suck the sweet nectar in my mouth. 

I needed to taste her first hand and my tongue drove repeatedly deeper into her or so tight pussy; it must have been in direct proportion to her small frame since I had never experience someone so tight before. I hungrily lapped up every copious drop she could deliver as she bucked her hips and cried out that she was cumming again.

All this time, my cock was painfully erect and needed some immediate satisfaction. As soon as Mac moaned that she wanted me inside her, I grabbed a condom from the nightstand drawer and started to tear off the seal on the package. Mac looked at me with glazed eyes and whispered "No condom, babe. We have both been celibate long enough to be safe and I need to feel you cum inside me" Please. Now?"

She hooked her arms through her knees spreading herself even more open. As I moved my cock to her hot opening, she reached between her legs to guide me. She was so tight that I was glad for the first time in my life that I was built slim and only 7 ½" instead of thick and long like I thought women wanted. There was no way I wanted to hurt this amazing woman!

As I slid slowly into her tight canal, I leaned over to kiss her lovingly. She was breathing quickly as she felt me going deeper and filling her fully. As I reached the end and our pubes were rubbing together, she started to rotate her hips as she moved herself around my cock buried deep within her. Her clit was rubbing against my coarse pubic hair and this only heightened the intensity of her climax. As she moved faster, I started to meet her every thrust with my own until we were perfectly enmeshed as we drew close to the final explosive orgasm.

We cried out together as years of pent up needs forced themselves to the surface live a lava flow and we came together over and over again! Our mixed cum seemed to flow forever as we released all that desire simultaneously.

Mac's legs slowly unwound until she had them wrapped around my waist and she used this newfound leverage to continue to move her hips around and around my still hard shaft. Although I knew I couldn't cum again for some time, just the feel of being held inside her made me want to stay there forever. 

We whispered, "I love you" to each other as we slowly eased apart and then fell into each other's arms. We spent the next two hours alternately talking about the wonder of what had just happened and our feelings for each other and kissing. The sense of belonging with one another was so strong at that moment that I knew, as did Mac, that we were going to take things slowly until we decided, if that was to be, to become seriously involved.

As we slipped into a dreamless slumber in each other's arms, we both felt that we were meant to be.

Instead of flying home the next day, Mac and I spent the whole day, and the next night, without leaving the hotel room. 

It turned out to be the best conference I ever attended! 

Mac and Me



I do not know under what category this story will eventually be placed under by the folks at literotica. It is a primarily a Romance, but please note that it involves two women. Placing this in the Lesbian Sex category might be accurate also, but perhaps a bit misleading, since the sex is secondary to the story. 

It is a story about a very lonely woman and her life. This people actually exist, but I don't know anything more about them than riding on the bus with them for a few years, observing and fantasizing. I hope that if you give the story a chance, that you find the time you invested worthwhile. Either way, as always I appreciate hearing from all readers.

The story takes place in the Capital District area of New York State and begins in the very late 1980's.

***

Chapter 1. In the beginning: Fall 1989.

This story had an innocent enough start, I suppose. So innocent that I don't even recall when I first encountered Mac. I guess that if I didn't always walk around with my head down while trying to avoid making eye contact with the rest of the world, I would remember things like that. All I do recall is that in the fall of 1989 we got a new bus driver for the express route which took me home from my job in downtown Albany to my place in Schenectady.

Mac was the driver's name, and I guess I began to first notice Mac when she started to call me by name when I would get on the bus in the afternoon. I'd climb on with the rest of the herd and swipe my card through the meter box until it made an approving sound. 

"There you go, Sad Eyes," Mac would say afterward. "Only two swipes needed. You're an expert at this new system kiddo. They ought to let you run a class to teach everybody else how to do it!"

Sad Eyes. That was the name Mac had assigned to me. As soon as she had started driving for us, she had assigned her own names to all of her regular riders. They were usually names that seemed to have some sort of meaning, like Brandywine for the name of the street one woman got off at, or Pony Dude for the man that got off in front of the OTB parlor. Sometimes the names had no meaning, or at least they didn't seem to. No matter. When Mac gave you a name, you were stuck with it whether you liked it or not. It seemed most did, because she was very popular and everyone seemed to like her.

Mac. That was what everyone called her, even me eventually. Not a very feminine name, but one she seemed to embrace happily. Mac was a woman, one of the very few female drivers the transit company employed at that time, and she was excellent. She was courteous, safe and reliable, just like the plaque that held her nameplate claimed she would be.

It was no easy job, negotiating city traffic at rush hour in a bus, but she did it and did it well. She didn't take any crap from anybody either. I remember her handling a drunk that got on the bus one afternoon and started causing trouble. When the fuss started, I felt scared for Mac, but by the time it ended it was obvious that she could handle that jerk with no problem.

It was my custom at that time to sit toward the back of the bus and hope no one would sit next to me. If I got to sit alone, I would keep my head buried in a book until I got to my stop. If I got stuck sitting next to someone, I'd close my eyes and pretend to be sleeping. Either way worked for me.

As time went by, I began sitting closer to the front, since that's where it seemed that the action was. Mac would be holding court while she drove, regaling the passengers with stories about things that happened during the day or giving a running commentary on the drivers around us that sometimes seemed intent on killing us. 

Since I got onto the bus at one of the earlier stops, I began sitting at the bench up front, right opposite Mac. Not that I would join in the conversation or anything, at least at first, but I could hear what was going on better and it sort of made me feel that I was a part of things. Plus, it made it quicker for me to help Mrs. Rogers when we reached her stop. She's an elderly lady who needs someone to make sure she doesn't fall getting off the bus, and I had started helping her a while back. It was no problem for me, and after she got safely off I would just slide over into the front seat she had occupied and ride with Mac to the end of the line, which is where I got off.

That's when I started getting to know Mac, by sitting upfront in the place just vacated by Mrs. Rogers, and listening to her. Eventually I actually began conversing, which might not seem like a big deal to you, but then again you don't know me. I'll bet you know someone that's a whole lot like me though.

My name is Abby, short for Abigail, and I was born in 1958 in Watertown, New York, one of the coldest places in the world, hidden in the northern part of New York. My mom still lives up there, and I don't know why, because everybody else that age seems to be moving to Florida. My dad passed on a few years ago and she's still up there, all alone. No matter what I say, she's intent on staying there. It's home, she says.

Not for me. I left that cold and barren town after high school, determined to make my mark in the world. I went to college for a couple of years at SUNY Albany, got a government job when I got tired of school, and here I still am fifteen years later, still working at the same place, with one little promotion to show for it all. I live in a small one bedroom apartment in the Stockade area of downtown Schenectady.

I'm tall and skinny, my nose is too big and I have what look like horse teeth to me. I'm flat-chested, devoid of self-esteem and afraid of my own shadow. I had a nightmare of a date about nine years ago which was the last "romantic" thing that's happened to me. I'm a loner and I guess I got my wish alright, because I've made my bed and I'm lying in it. Alone.

How's that for a biography? How many people do you know that can summarize their lives in so few words? Believe me, that's pretty much it, and I didn't leave all that much out either. Certainly none of the highlights, that's for sure. I am without doubt the most boring person in the world. Painfully shy, impossibly insecure, yours truly, Abby.

...

Chapter 2. Spring 1990.

"Dear Abby, Dear Abby my feet are too long. My hair's falling out and my rights are all wrong." 

That was what I was greeted with when I would get on the bus in the afternoons by the time that the Spring of 1990 rolled in. It was a song by John Prine, as Mac explained to me, and I was learning the entire tune because Mac would sing some different lines every day as I would board.

I loved the way she sang, not because she had a classically great voice or anything, but she had this raspy drawl that reminded me of Janis Joplin. Anything that reminded me of Janis, I loved, because as far as I was concerned I was her doppelganger, lacking only the talent. 

Not to mention the good sense to know when to pack it all in, I occasionally thought to myself. But the part about being a classically unattractive woman who was in a lot of emotional pain? Well, that part I could relate to well.

Being sung to as you boarded the bus was not exclusive to me on the good old 55X, but for some reason it made me feel good. Plus, there weren't many people on the bus when I got on, so there weren't that many people for me to be embarrassed in front of when I would blush.

It got to be that the ride home was the highlight of the whole day for me. At work it seemed like I got an inordinate amount of work dumped on me because of the people that didn't show up or were too lazy or incompetent to do it themselves. The bus was great fun, almost like a rolling sitcom of sorts, with me being one of the cast of oddball characters.

While riding I would marvel at the way Mac would be able to handle the bus in the worst city traffic with the greatest of ease. Then, when the bus would get on the interstate to get us out to Schenectady, she would really step on it. How I wished I could drive like Mac, or like anybody. I had tried to learn when I was a teenager, but I was way too scared to handle it. My lack of nerve just about killed my dad, who was trying hard to teach me at the time, and who ended up leaving his fingerprints permanently embedded in the dashboard.

There was this long sweeping ramp when you got out of Albany, and Mac would take the turn pretty fast with the wheel turned to the max. With warmer weather, Mac shed her blue uniform jacket, and in her short sleeved powder blue uniform shirt, I would watch as her biceps would bulge while she turned the wheel hard. It amazed me how a woman was doing what was always considered a man's job, and doing it so well.

One time Mac's shirt sleeve rode up while she turned the wheel, and I was startled to see Mac had a tattoo around her bicep. It looked like it was a tattoo of a chain, and it seemed like it went all the way around her arm. That was really neat, and every once in a while I would catch a little glimpse of it and smile. I was going to get a tattoo once myself long ago, but I chickened out in the end.

Mac also had a tattoo of a rose on the outside of her right ankle that I could see if her pant leg rode up and she wasn't wearing socks. I wanted to ask her if she had any more tattoos but I never could summon up the nerve. Besides, she would probably think I was weird to want to know that, and I didn't want to alienate one of the few people who seemed to like me.

...

Chapter 3. Summer 1990.

"So what do you young urban professional women do for fun in Schenectady?" Mac asked me one Friday afternoon as we neared the end of the line, which was my stop.

"Fun? You've got me!" I said in response. 

"Well, I was just wondering if you'd want to do something with me Saturday or Sunday, like maybe go to the mall and do some shopping. Maybe have lunch?"

"Uh, sure. That would be fun."

"Great!" Mac said with enthusiasm. "Which is better for you, Saturday or Sunday?"

"Saturday," I said. "Or Sunday. Either one is great with me," I babbled, because it wasn't like I had a social calendar to consult. 

"How about Saturday around one?"

"Great," I said. "Uh, I don't have a drive. I mean I don't have a car."

"And you don't drive," Mac said smiling. "I know. You told me that a long time ago. Give me your address and I'll pick you up."

I gave Mac my address and my phone number and I hopped off the bus with something to do on a weekend, a rarity for me. I hardly ever got to go to the mall, because the bus going out there was usually filled with wacky kids on the weekends, making the ride horrible.

That Friday night my happy hour was a lot more fun. I had begun having my own private happy hours on Friday evenings as sort of a remembrance of an old friend. Back when I had just gotten out of college I roomed with this girl Brianna.

Brianna was a beautiful blonde who worked for the state too, and we would go out together Friday nights. I suppose that I was the ideal girl to accompany her, because I made her look even more beautiful in comparison, not that she really needed it. Lots of times a guy would pick her up, and if he had a friend that guy got stuck with me.

Usually they were losers like me, but even at that point in my life when I was willing to give it away, 'it' being my prized virginity, there were no takers. I had to occasionally expend a little energy a couple of times to keep my virginity in high school, where the boys were desperate and willing to mount anything with a pulse. Apparently men got less desperate as they aged, at least when I was around, and that combined with my looks left me out of the loop.

Brianna went out one Saturday night alone and never came home. The police found her corpse in the park a few days later; beaten, raped and sexually mutilated, stuck behind some bushes and left to rot.

Ever since then, in her memory I've had this little happy hour on Friday evenings where I would have a few drinks and play some records until I would fall asleep. Vodka and 7up is my drink of choice, and the records are usually Janis, Bonnie Raitt or Billie Holiday, with some British Invasion thrown in for variety. I sing along, softly in the beginning and probably louder as the night goes on, but you would have to ask my neighbors about that. I have a great record collection and a lot of movies on tape too. All a woman needs to entertain herself in the comfort of her own home. It's a lot safer there anyway.

Oh, and the part about having a few drinks until I get drowsy? I guess a more accurate description would be that I have a lot of drinks and then pass out. It's only one night a week, after all, and I then spent the rest of the weekend recovering and doing laundry. 

I took it easy that Friday night because I didn't want to be hurting come Saturday. Going to the mall and doing girl stuff was something others did, not me, and I was looking forward to being one of the girls for once.

...

Chapter 4. Saturday afternoon.

I looked out the living room window of my apartment a little before 1 and waited for Mac to come pick me up. I was going to sit outside on the steps but decided against it. Good thing too, I realized when Mac arrived.

I hardly recognized her at first as this sharp black pickup truck pulled up across the street. When Mac climbed out of the truck and crossed the street I panicked. Mac was dressed really nicely, with a cherry red short sleeved top and black slacks. I looked down at my sorry self, wearing a T-shirt and jeans, and freaked out.

I ran to my closet and searched for something to wear, finally finding a decent looking blouse and slacks as the doorbell rang. Throwing my shabby clothes off and putting the other stuff on as fast as I could, I called out to Mac as I went to the door and opened it.

"Hi! I'm running a little late. Come in and make yourself comfortable."

"No problem Abby. Take your time. We've got all day," Mac told me as I scurried into the bathroom and tried to pull myself together.

I hadn't expected this to be a dress-up thing, but I didn't want to embarrass Mac by looking like a bum, even though it sometimes seems like my mission on this planet is to make everybody else look good. I threw on some make-up and straightened my clothes out so I was halfway presentable before going out to rejoin Mac, who was busy browsing through my records.

"Amazing music collection you've got here Abby," Mac said as she looked through the bookcase at my albums. "I could spend a month listening to stuff here that I love."

"That's my entertainment, that and movies."

"So I see. Great stuff there too."

We went out to Mac's truck, and as I walked next to her I noticed that we were almost the same height. That was good since I usually tower over other girls as well as a lot of guys, and that makes me feel uncomfortable. I had to struggle to climb up into the front seat of the truck, and my effort got a giggle from Mac, who had hopped in effortlessly.

"Quite a climb if you aren't used to it, ain't it Abby?"

"Yes it is," I said. "Gee, this is a real treat for you, driving me around on your day off."

"Ha!" Mac chortled. "The rest of the week I've got no choice but to haul you around, but today I want to. Love to drive anyway," Mac added as we headed out.

Long story short. It was a great afternoon. We shopped and had lunch at Friendly's, and then shopped some more. I had so much fun that I hated to have it end, and it was getting dark when Mac finally brought me back home.

"Um, do you want to come in and have a cup of coffee or something?" I asked Mac as she pulled up in front of my place.

"Love to. Besides, you're going to need some help hauling all this stuff in."

I had bought an awful lot of things, taking advantage of having a ride home for once instead of taking the bus to the mall. Sheets, towels and curtains filled the space behind the car seat, and Mac grabbed most of it as we brought it inside. I tossed the stuff in my bedroom before I went into the kitchen and got the coffee going.

"You've got a cute place here, Abby."

"Really? I'm not that crazy about it, but I guess it's because I'm bored with it. I've been here what seems like forever."

"How old are you anyway, Abby?" Mac asked. "Excuse my abruptness, but that's just me. If I want to know something I ask."

"I know," I laughed. "I see that every day. I'm 32."

"Wow, you're a couple of years older than me," Mac said. "I figured that I was older than you. Must be because I've been rode hard and put away wet."

"You're tall," I said, sounding like an idiot.

"So are you," Mac said chuckling.

"I know, but I mean... I never had never seen you standing up before today, and I was shocked when I saw how tall you were. Not that I thought you only came up to my waist or anything, like you do when I get on the bus," I said. "Feel free to tell me to stop babbling on like an idiot if it gets to be too much for you," I added. 

"I love listening to you talk, Abby," Mac replied. "There's so much inside of you that seems like it can't wait to come out, and I enjoy hearing you let loose like this. For the record, I'm almost two inches short of six feet, and my guess is that you're an inch or two taller than I am," Mac surmised correctly.

"Yeah, six feet, but I learned to scrunch down whenever I used to get measured, so that I would be 5'11"," I confessed. "Don't you hate it, being tall?"

"Hell no. Why should I? We are what we are, and there's no sense trying to change what can't be changed, Abby. You should stand tall and proud, because you're a beautiful woman."

My head jerked upward at that comment, because I thought she was trying to be funny or something, but she was staring straight at me with a solemn expression.

"Gee no," I said as I brought over the coffee pot and filled our mugs. "I got into the habit of slouching early in life. You know, trying to hide and blend in instead of being the geek."

"I'll bet everybody called you names," Mac said after sipping her coffee. "And I'll bet every time they did you took it to heart."

"Big Bird was the most popular. Ostrich was another, along with stork. The stork didn't bring Abby, the stork is Abby!"

"Kids are cruel," Mac admitted. "I used to get called Mack truck all the time."

"Carpenter's dream was another one," I recalled less than fondly. "Another time a bunch of guys from the football team walked past me in the hall, and the quarterback motioned over to me. I stopped like an idiot, because I had a crush on him."

"Abby and her football hero," Mac chirped.

"Right," I said sarcastically. "Anyway, he stops me and tells me that he came to my defense earlier in the day and wanted to tell me about it. He said that a guy told everybody that Abigail Sanders looked exactly like a stork, and he said that he defended me."

"Oh boy, let me guess," Mac said softly.

"He said that you could tell that I wasn't a stork, because if you got enough guys together and gave them enough beer, sooner or later one of the guys would eventually want to fuck the stork."

"Charming," Mac said. "All the guys roar like hyenas and Abby runs down the hall crying."

"I didn't know you were there at my school watching," I said laughing.

"Fifteen years later and you still let it haunt you," Mac said while slowly shaking her head. "What am I gonna do with you Abby? Well, I know what I'd like to do with you, but..."

"I know. I'm hopeless."

"Defintely NOT hopeless," Mac said. "You just need some to care about you and help give you the confidence to see how great you really are."

"Among many other things. Okay, now that I've spilled my guts, I have to ask you a question. What's your real name?"

Mac was always Mac on the bus, and even her name plate just said Mac. People would ask her and that's the answer they got. Mac.




Mac and Me



"Promise not to laugh Abby?" Mac said. "You have to promise not to tell any of those goobers on the bus either."

"Cross my heart," I said solemnly.

"Mackenzie," Mac said while scrunching up her face.

"Mackenzie? I love that name!" I said excitedly, much to Mac's dismay.

"You take it then, because I like Abby better."

"Do you mind if I call you Mackenzie?" I asked her. "I mean, not when we're on the bus, but if we ever are together at other times?"

"Sure, I mean I sure hope we're going to see each other a whole lot more Abby, because I really like you."

I felt my eyes mist up at that point as I tried to think of the last time someone had said that to me, but I guess my memory isn't what it used to be.

"I like you too, Mackenzie," I managed to choke out with a smile. "I don't have many friends. Any friends, I mean. Not real ones."

"Yes, you do," Mac said as she put her hand on mine.

"Gee, I almost forgot!" I said before skipping out of the kitchen and going to get my pocketbook.

I had forgotten something, but I also had to leave the room before I broke down in front of Mac and made a complete ass of myself. Someone goes to pieces just because a person calls them their friend, and it would probably make you a little squeamish, wondering what they heck they were getting themselves into.

I came back into the kitchen, sat back down next to Mac and pulled a little bag out of my purse. Mac had looked at a refrigerator magnet with a beer mug attached to it when we went through a housewares store and gotten a kick out of it, so I doubled back when she wasn't looking and bought it for her.

"Oh Abby, why'd you go and do that for?" Mac asked when she took it out of the bag.

"It's nothing. I just wanted to give you something to thank you for taking me shopping," I told Mac, who actually seemed touched as she looked at the little $5 trinket, making me glad that I had gotten it.

"You're so sweet," Mac said, and she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. "I'll gladly take you anywhere, anytime Abby."

I wasn't planning on being a burden to anyone, especially someone as nice as Mac, but that was nice of her to offer. I smiled and thanked her as I struggled to get comfortable in the chair. My back was aching a little from all the walking, and the kitchen chairs were no help.

"What's wrong?" Mac asked as I fidgeted.

"Ah, my back. I'm not used to all that walking around," I said while arching my spine and twisting around. "I think I've got something wrong with my back anyway. It's just as screwed up as the rest of me."

"It doesn't help that you slouch instead of standing up straight," Mac said. "I've got an idea. Why don't you get your clothes off and I'll give you a massage."

I exploded with laughter at that, but when I looked at Mac she was dead serious.

"God, I'd never gross anybody out like that," i said laughing. "Even my doctor probably wishes I'd keep my clothes on."

"Even when the world isn't putting you down, you have to pile it on yourself, don't you Abby?" Mac asked. "I'm not going to laugh when you go putting yourself down like that, no matter how funny you can be at times, and I was dead serious about the massage. I did some physical therapy work a few years back and I know how to help with back pain."

So it was that I found myself sitting sideways in the chair while Mac came behind me and began massaging me with my blouse on. As her fingers bagan probing into my bony body, I could actually feel my muscles begin to loosen up.

"Wow, this is nice," I said. "A physical therapist, a bus driver, and you were a truck driver at one time too, right?"

"I worked as a hotwalker for a thoroughbred horse trainer one summer at Saratoga, and I've been an auto mechanic from time to time in the past," she threw in.

"A woman of many talents," I said in awe.

"Master of none, though. I just don't want to mess up your blouse, because it's so pretty," Mac said in reference to the white blouse with vertical crimson stripes that I had pulled out of my archives. Something with short sleeves that I seldom wore, mainly because I was so self-conscious about the downy hair that covered my forearms, yet another one of nature's gifts to me.

"It's old, don't worry about it. Besides, it would be worth it because this feels so good," I remarked. It did feel incredible, even with Mac working through the blouse and around my bra straps, and I wished that this one time I was the kind of person that could take off their clothes in front of others and get a real massage.

"Told ya you would like it!" Mac said.

"You can stop whenever you get tired," I reminded her.

"I'd never get tired of doing this," Mac said as she worked her way down my spine. "You feel so nice, and I love being able to get to know you like this."

"I ran in and threw this blouse on when I saw you coming across the street dressed so beautifully," I suddenly confessed. "You should have seen me before then. I looked like a bum."

"Doesn't matter to me," Mac said. "You know what you should have done today was bought that dress you were looking at in Macy's. You would have looked great in that."

"No, me and dresses aren't a good match."

"Nonsense," Mac snapped. "You wore a dress in December, and I thought you looked beautiful."

I searched my memory to recall when I had worn a dress because I rarely did.

"Oh! The office holiday party," I blurted out as I remembered the occassion.

"Was that why you wore it? All I remember is that you knocked me out when I saw you in it, and I watched you when you got off the bus and walked down the street. I even sat through a green light staring at you because you looked so great. You've got absolutely amazing legs."

"Yuck! Skinny chopsticks!"

"No way, Abby. Your legs are great and don't seem to ever end. Take the compliment and smile."

"Okay!" I said in concession. "Anyway, I don't feel comfortable in dresses. Besides, I would have to shave my legs to wear 'em,!" I said with a chuckle.

"Not on my account you don't," Mac said as my shoulders got the most wonderful kneading imaginable. I leaned forward with my elbows on the kitchen table and felt my neck crack as Mac's hands worked magic.

"Besides, I love furry girls," Mac said in a husky whisper, and as she said that her hands slid down my shoulders and slowly glided down my arms all the way to my wrists. As Mac's hands came back up my arms, the hairs stood straight up, making me look like a porcupine. My arms were wall-to wall goose bumps in the wake of Mackenzie's touch, and as Mac leaned forward the back of my head was nestled between her very prominent breasts.

"Makes me kinda curious whether you're furry all over," Mac breathed into my ear while her hands slid up the insides of my arms. Mackenzie's fingernails lightly scraped the sensitive skin as they slowly glided under the loose sleeves of my blouse, just about to find out that I was indeed furry all over. 

I am not stupid, although it may sound that way to listen to me. I am naive, that much I freely admit, and that is the reason that I was completely stunned when this happened, because it was absolutely the furthest thing from my mind.

As Mac's hands traveled up my arms I bolted upright and raced toward the sink, rattling some things that were in the sink while trying to catch my breath and figure out what had just happened back at the table. When I turned around Mac was still standing there, and the hurt look on her face was all I needed to see.

"I'm sorry," I choked out. "I'm not used to... I mean that... don't get touched too much."

"My fault Abby," Mac said. "I think we had a... what's that phrase from Cool Hand Luke? We had a failure to communicate or something like that. I misread you or something like that. I didn't mean to upset you, and I'm really sorry. Please don't be mad at me."

I had screwed up royally, and now the only person that I really liked in the world was heading toward the door, and things would never be the same. I walked behind Mac as she left, looking for words or anything that would make this all better.

"No hard feelings, okay Abby?" Mac asked me as she stepped outside.

"No, Mackenzie, you don't understand," I said as I felt my eyes begin to well up with tears. "I'm not... I'm confused. I'm not a..."

"It's okay Abby, don't get upset."

I stood there with the door open as Mac went down the first step of the porch before turning around and looking at me. Mackenzie was wearing a weak smile when she came back toward me, reaching up and wiping the tears off my cheeks.

"I have to do something that I've wanted to do for almost a year now," Mac said. "Since I'll never get the chance to do it again, I guess I better do it now, since you can't get any more down on me than you already are."

I stood frozen in the doorway as Mackenzie took my face in her hands and brought her lips up to mine. The kiss lasted only a couple of seconds, and then Mackenzie was gone, quickly walking down the steps and into her truck. I watched her drive down the street until the twinkle of her tailights disappeared from sight.

I somehow made it back to my kitchen table, but when I saw that silly magnet sitting on the table next to Mac's coffee cup, I lost it. I leaned against the wall and melted down, crying uncontrollably as I slid down to the floor where I sat for a long time, as confused and frightened as I had ever been in my life. 

...

Chapter 5. The next week.

I sat around the apartment all day Sunday, feeling miserable. I jumped up each time the phone rang, but the first time was a telemarketer, and the second time was my weekly phone call from Mom. She probably sensed that something was wrong but thankfully she didn't press me for details. After all these years she was probably used to moping Abby and her trials and tribulations by now anyway.

I didn't go to work Monday, and when I called in sick it must have sent shock waves throughout the office. I called in Tuesday as well, and later in the day the big cheese called me. I was pissed at first because most of the other people in the unit took days off every chance they got without a peep, but when he explained that everyone was worried because I never called in sick, I got over it.

"Nine years of perfect attendance," the head honcho informed me while praising my work ethic. I was encouraged to take as much time as I needed, but I knew I would be going back in to work the next day. Sitting around the house was not a good idea for me, because having happy hour every night made for a bad habit to begin to take up.

I went in to work on Wednesday. When quitting time came around I went to the building lobby and looked across the street at my bus, Mac's bus. waiting there at the corner like always until departing at 4:35. I stood there in the lobby peeking around a pillar until Mac pulled away at 4:37. 

There was another bus that left a half hour later so I went outside and sat on a bench and waited while reading the paper. When the 5:05 arrived and I boarded it, I felt like I was in another world. A different driver, different bus and a bunch of people that I had never seen before.

The bus ride home was horrible, and I felt almost like a traitor of sorts in riding that bus. I was also being quite silly even by my standards, because I knew I couldn't go on avoiding Mac like this for the rest of my life. 

More importantly, I didn't want to avoid Mac, not at all. So the next afternoon I got on the bus, albeit sheepishly, much in the same old manner I used to. Mac's eyes lit up when she saw me, and she sang another line of "Dear Abby" while I tried and failed to swipe my fare card through the machine the first 5 times I tried it.

"Sorry... I've been sick," I stammered before retreating toward the middle of the bus.

"Summer colds are the worst, Abby," Mac said as she looked closely at me through the rear view mirror.

I sat quietly during the ride, and was tempted to not get up and help Mrs. Rogers get off at her stop, but I did, and when I got back on the bus I hesitated before finally sitting in the seat Mrs. Rogers had occupied, just like always.

Soon I was the last person on the bus, and my stop was coming up fast. I wanted to say something but my mind was a blank as I searched for something to say. A problem which I had not experienced recently with Mac until now.

"Dear Abby's a quiet gal tonight," Mac finally said in breaking the painful silence. "Must be you're either still sick, or your mind is working over-time."

"Um," I said as my voice cracked, making me sound like Marge Simpson for a second. "Would it be alright if I called you up and talked to you? Or you could call me if you'd rather?"

"Got something to say Abby?"

"No... yes. I just want to, you know."

"I understand completely," Mac said as she chortled at my gibberish. "What time should I come over?"

"Er, no. I mean you can call," I said. "It's not anything that's anything."

"Abby, I can't understand anything you're saying and you're sitting two feet from me," Mac replied. "So I can't imagine listening to you not say whatever it is you're trying to say on the phone. What time, Abby? Don't worry, I'm not going to attack you again or anything."

"I'm not... and you didn't. I'm just..."

"How about seven thirty?" Mac asked as the bus ground to a halt at my stop.

"Okay," I managed as I stood up.

...

Chapter 6. Mac's second visit.

I paced the floor for an hour and a half, unable to eat anything or even think about eating, my stomach tied up in knots at the prospect of Mackenzie's visit. I made a pot of coffee and watched the clock tick onward, and even with me staring at the clock I still jumped out of my skin when the doorbell rang.

Mac looked really nice, wearing jeans and a dark blue blouse that really set off her blonde hair nicely. How different Mac looked away from the bus, I thought to myself. She dressed so nicely, and wore things that accentuated her dynamic features rather than disguised them. Mac was big and tall, and not only didn't she care if you knew it, she pretty much insisted you did. Nice to have that kind of confidence.

"Hello Abigail," Mac said formally and stuck out her hand.

I burst out laughing at that, realizing that the puss I probably had on made me look like I was at a funeral or something. I gave her a little hug, shying away a bit at the feeling of her breasts against mine, and walked with her into the kitchen where we poured our coffee and sat down.

"Well Abby, it seems like this is where we left off the last time," Mac said.

"It's not the same pot of coffee," I added, and Mac's hoarse chuckle calmed my nerves a bit.

"That still would have been better than the way mine comes out," Mac added. "So what was it that you wanted to talk to me about?" 

I stared at the kitchen table for a second, pushing a few stray granules of sweetener around with my finger, before I jumped up and went over to the counter. I returned with the kitchen magnet I had gotten Mac last weekend, and handed it to her before sitting back down. 

"Oh yeah, I forgot this last time," Mac said as she looked at the little beer mug, turning it around in her hands with a little smile breaking in the corners of her mouth. "I'm trying to figure out how you would have handed it to me over the phone like you wanted to."

"I'm an idiot," I said. "Look, I didn't mean to jump away from you last Saturday. "I just didn't know. I didn't have any idea."

"You didn't know I was a lesbian?" Mac said with a look of wonder on her face. "Abby darlin', it's practically tattooed on my forehead. I'm the most obvious lesbian in the world!"

"I'm sorry!" I said as my brave front started cracking on me. "I never thought of you that way. I just thought you were a woman, a friend."

"Well, I am that too," Mac said. "At least I thought I was."

"No, I mean I never looked at you in a sexual way. I just thought you were... oh shit! I don't know what I'm talking about," I finally admitted.

"Well, I looked at you as a woman, and I looked at you as a friend," Mac admitted. "I also looked at you in a sexual way, as you put it. I thought you were looking at me that way too. That was my mistake, I guess. I just thought that you had been looking at me differently, especially lately."

"Differently?" I asked in confusion. "How?"

"Checking me out," Mac said. "I thought I caught you looking me over after you came up front a few times. Nothing really obvious, but just little stuff while I was driving."

"Oh!," I said trying to think about what Mac was referring to. "Well, I always think it's amazing how fast you take that turn getting onto the interstate, and I guess I've looked at your arms, because I think it's great that woman can be that strong to handle the bus like that."

"Piece of cake," Mac said smiling. "I was just putting on a show for you."

"And sometimes when you turn the wheel like that, your uniform sleeve slides up your arm, and I've been trying to get a better look at the tattoo you have on your bicep, because I think it looks really neat," I confessed.

"My chain?" Mac said and pulled the sleeve on her blouse up, revealing the purple chain links that encircled her bicep. "All you had to do was ask, darlin'"

"Oh yeah, that's so cool!" I said. "And I love the way you wear your hair so short most of the time, and I wish I had the nerve to do that, but you can get away with it because your ears are really cute, and I've got Dumbo ears."

"Keep going Abby," Mac said, as she looked at me very amused.

"Well," I continued and then realized what I had been doing and finished my sentence in an embarrassed and diminishing voice. "You've also got a tattoo of a rose on your right ankle that I can see sometimes when your pant leg rides up and or your sock slides down."

The end of that sentence was barely audible as my voice continued to trail off, and you could almost feel the weight of the silence that followed as I stared into my coffee cup, thinking about other ways I had looked at Mac, subconsciously or not. Finally I summoned enough courage to look up at Mac.

"Well," Mac said after clearing her throat. "At least now we know that you weren't checking me out."

My face burned with embarrassment, much like being caught with my hand in the cookie jar, but at least when that happened you already knew damn well what you were up to.

"I'm sorry ,Mackenzie," I said.

"I'm not, and neither are you," Mac said as she got up and refilled our coffees for us before she continued. "Let me tell you about you."

"Okay."

"I saw this young woman who rode the Schenectady Express when I first took over the route last year, Mac said. "She was tall and pretty, but always tried to hide her beauty. I could see it though, as plain as day."

"I tried to get her to open up around me, and I really began to make progress, or so I thought," Mac continued. "Especially last year around the holidays, when she gave me a Christmas present."

A Christmas present? I racked my mind trying to think about what Mac was talking about. Then it finally hit me!

"The cookies," I said quietly. Every year around the holidays I would spend a week baking cookies to give to everybody at work, along with people like my mailman and my bus driver. 

"The cookies," Mac nodded. "When you handed them to me I was so excited you wouldn't believe it. I opened them up on Christmas Eve like it was the only present under my tree, and it would have been, if I had a tree that is. I sat with that tin of cookies on my kitchen table and was so happy I can't describe it. It had been a lousy year, and I thought that things were finally coming around for me."

"You'll think this is stupid but I'll tell you anyway," Mac said. "Christmas Day I got all dressed up and spent a couple hours driving around this area, hoping to see you so I could stop and pretend that I just happened to be passing through."




Mac and Me



"I was up at my Mom's," I said in a guilty voice.

"I went home and ate your cookies for Christmas dinner, and they go great with Bloody Mary's" Mac said. "The peanut butter cookies with the kisses on top go good with beer."

"Anyway," Mac continued. "You started talking more and more to me, and I got the idea that you were interested in me. When I would catch you looking at me my whole body would tingle with excitement. I knew you were really shy so I finally made the first move by asking you out shopping last week. I felt so good to be near you, just being able to spend time with you, and I felt so proud to be walking alongside of you."

"I enjoyed it too," I said.

"Remember this?" Mac asked as she reached into her jeans and pulled out a slim wallet. She reached inside and pulled out a little gift card. 

A silly little tag with a kitty popping out of a box, it was the tag I had put on her tin of cookies, and on the inside I had written; To Mac. Happy Holidays. Love, Abby. "This is my mood elevator. Whenever I feel down I look at this and I feel better. I've taken this out to look at it so many times it's wearing out," Mac said softly.

"I'm sorry," I said as I lost any handle on my emotions. "Nobody ever."

"Nobody ever felt like this toward you?" Mac asked, and I nodded. "Maybe they had and you didn't see. Maybe you saw and shut them off. You couldn't tell how I felt about you and it's so plain to see, that I'm surprised nobody on the bus has said anything yet."

"But I'm not a, you know," I said as I struggled for words. "I'm not anything."

"I don't know what you are Abby, but you aren't nothing," Mac said sharply. "You're all I ever think about these days. I think you're very special, and I think I could help get you to figure that out for yourself too, if you gave me the chance."

"How?" I asked her.

"Let me take you out on a date," Mac said. "An actual date, dinner and a movie or dancing."

"I don't know how," I admitted.

"You don't know how to what? Eat, watch a movie or dance?" 

"Dance."

"Who does?" Mac said. "You obviously like music, so just hop around like most everybody else does and enjoy yourself. Give it a chance. Give me a chance. We'll go to a movie instead if you'd rather. Anything you want to do. If, at the end of the night you decide you don't like me, that's fine. I swear I won't attack you again."

"You didn't attack me," I told Mac. "I just got startled. And I do like you, no matter what."

"Great! Well, how about it? Us. Saturday night. Seven o'clock?"

I heard myself agreeing with Mac, and after that was settled I walked her to the door.

"I remembered this time," Mac said holding up the magnet and leaning forward to kiss me on the cheek before skipping out the door.

I waited at the door until Mac's tail lights disappeared around the corner before closing the door behind me, wondering what in the world was happening to me.

...

Chapter 7. Date night.

I took a taxi to the mall Saturday, where I got my hair cut and ended up at the Gap, of all places. They must have laughed their asses off after I left, but I ended up getting a dress that looked halfway decent on me.

When I got home I had to hustle to get ready, but I did manage to shave my legs without bleeding to death. I looked at myself in the mirror and wondered why I looked so much worse now than I did in the dressing room. The damn thing was so short it showcased my bony knees beautifully, as well as making me look even more flatchested than I already was.

A dash into my dresser had me searching for a Wonderbra that I had bought last year for some unknown reason. It helped a little, I supposed, and after accidently hosing myself down with too much cologne, I was as ready as I ever would be.

I looked out the window just in time to see Mac pull up in a vintage Mustang that was the deepest green imaginable. Mac got out of the car and my head spun as she crossed the street. She looked magnificent.

Mac was wearing a white pantsuit with a deep purple ruffled blouse underneath, and she was wearing makeup that made her incredible cheekbones look even more amazing. I ran to the bathroom and looked at myself as the doorbell rang, but there was no hope. They didn't make cosmetics that would help me enough, so I went to answer the door with my best happy face.

Mac was smiling when I opened the door, and her mouth opened for a second in surprise as she shook her head.

"Omigod Abby, you look so beautiful," Mac said as I stepped back to let her in.

"I do? I wish!" I said. "I was watching you cross the street and I freaked out."

"Scary face huh?" Mac cracked.

"No, you look so... striking."

"What was I struck with, a shovel?" Mac asked with a raised eyebrow.

"You know what I mean," I said with a little edge in my voice.

"Isn't it annoying when people go and put themselves down everytime you try to compliment them?" Mac asked with a devilish grin. "I hate that too."

"Guilty," I said sheepishly as I pawed at the rug.

"Like I was saying, you look beautiful," Mac repeated.

"Thank you, that's nice of you to say," I said with a grin. "And you do too. You look so... dynamic, is that a good word? You look like that woman that Sylvester Stallone was married to for awhile... Bridgitte Neilsen was it?"

"Hey, I'll take it," Mac said. "Not bad looking, but I might be able to out-act her. Ready to go?"

"Ready."

"I made reservations at a place that has great Italian food. Is that okay?" Mac asked.

"Fine by me," I assured her, although my stomach was so tied up in knots I wasn't sure how much I could eat.

"You're wearing a dress," Mackenzie noted as we exited my place. "And your legs are most definitely amazing." 

I smiled, and was about to answer when one of my neighbors was coming up the stairs as we left, and we exchanged pleasantries in passing. I wondered whether she had heard Mackenzie's comment, and the thought crossed my mind that maybe she knew we were going out on a date or something. I barely knew most of the people in the building, so they were used to seeing me alone.

"How many vehicles do you have anyway, Mackenzie?" I asked as I hopped into the car, where the inside was just as beautifully restored as the outside.

"Well, there's the pickup truck, my Harley..."

"You have a motorcycle?" I asked incredulously.

"You like them?" Mac asked.

"Yeah, but they're a little scary," I admitted, never having ridden on one even when the opportunity had presented itself one time.

"That's part of the fun," Mac said before continuing. "And then there's this one. My baby. It's the one I use to impress people."

"It worked on me, because I love it. What is this, a 66'?"

"Abby, I'm shocked," Mac exclaimed. "You know cars?"

"Actually it was a guess," I admitted. "I knew someone who had one of these back in high school, but it wasn't anywhere near as nice as this. This looks like it just rolled off of the assembly line."

"I put everything I had into this," Mac said.

"You do all the work yourself?" I asked.

"Most, but not all," Mac said. "Keeps me off the street corners at least.

The restaurant Mac chose was a quiet little Italian place that the bus went by everyday, but I had never been in. It had red and white checkered tablecloths and looked like the kind of place that was family owned and operated.

That suspicion was confirmed when, after the waitress had taken our drink orders, a little old man came out from the kitchen and strolled over to our table carrying a violin.

"Ah Mac!" the little guy said with a lilt in his voice. "I thought maybe you don't like me no more or something! Where you been my darling?"

"Michael, how are you?" Mac said as she shook his hand. "Never be mad at you my man. No fun eating out alone though. What's cookin'?"

"For you, anything and everything!" Michael said. "Who's your pretty friend?"

"My pretty friend is Abby," Mac said, and I shook Michael's hand as the drinks came.

"Pleasure to meet you, my pretty one," Miichael said. "What would you like me to play for you?"

"Paganini!" Mackenzie announced and looked to me for approval, and since I had no idea who or what Paganini was, I nodded.

"Oh Mac, I'm but an old man, but I give it a try," Michael said, and I watched as his old, gnarled fingers danced on the strings. His bow made his aged and weathered violin sing such beautiful music that chills ran down my spine as he brought the piece to an end with a flurry.

"Eh, I make a bunch of mistakes," Michael said after he finished the short piece, and nodded around the room to the other tables where the diners around us were applauding.

"That was so nice," I said to Mackenzie after Michael left our table to visit the other tables.

"Yeah, he's had this place for years and years," Mackenzie said. "It's like every stereotype you can imagine in one place, but the food is good and it's got a nice atmosphere."

"I think it's wonderful!" I said as I dug into a mussel before pronouncing it excellent.

The entire meal was wonderful, and my initial discomfort was long gone by the time the check came. Our conversation never flagged for a minute, and I found myself almost melting before the woman across the table. She was witty and funny and charming, and when her hand came over and patted mine during the meal, I didn't recoil from the touch and even returned it.

We had been in the place for well over two hours, and the time had flown by so fast that to me it seemed like we had just gotten there when Mackenzie suggested that we might want to leave before they locked us in for the night.

"How much do we owe?" I asked as the check came.

Mac slipped a credit card into the slot of the bill jacket and smiled.

"Next time you can pay, Abby," Mackenzie said. "That'll scare you out of doing this with me again!"

"Wanna bet?" I said. "I'm having a wonderful time."

"My original plan was to go out and do a little dancing, but I think we might have eaten ourselves into something a little more sedentary," Mackenzie said, and I agreed, not really looking forward to trying to dance anyway.

We drove to another place at the other end of town, yet another that I had gone by in passing for many years yet had no clue about what it was.

It was a piano bar, and a middle aged woman was just sitting down and getting ready to play when we walked in the door. There were only a handful of people in the place as we found a couple of stools at the end of the horseshoe shaped bar.

The piano player nodded at Mackenzie when we had come in, and the guy behind the bar greeted her like an old friend too. After Mackenzie introduced me to him, he asked her a couple of questions about a motorcycle before heading off to wait on someone else.

The lights were low as the piano began tinkling, and it was a nice relaxed atmosphere to unwind in after our meal, so I spun my stirrer around in my vodka and tonic as I looked around the place. 

"Do you know everybody in the world?" I asked Mackenzie softly.

"Seems that way, doesn't it?" Mackenzie said. "That's not necessarily a good thing, you know. There's also a big difference between having acquaintances and friends."

"I guess," I agreed. "Do they have a singer here too?" I asked while pointing to the microphone opposite the piano player.

"Not usually, but if you want to sing something, you can," Mac said. "Lee's really good about that kind of thing, and she probably knows any song you can think of."

"You Really Got Me?" I said timidly.

"I'll ask her," Mac said and I jumped up to stop her before realizing she had been kidding.

"No, I think I'll hold off on my debut for now," I said. "Feel free to go up and sing a tune though."

"Maybe I will after a drink or two," Mac answered, and after the piano player had played a couple more songs, Mac slid out of her seat and went up behind the piano player and whispered in her ear.

As I sat in shock, Mackenzie went over to the microphone and was playing around with the height adjustment to bring it up to her level.

"Hey! Mac's back," a voice called out from the darkness of the back of the room. "Must be time for My Funny Valentine!"

"Test... test," Mackenzie said. "I remember that voice, and there's only one drunk in town who thinks it's February. How ya doin' Willie?"

The voice in the darkness roared with laughter as Mackenzie adjusted the microphone and spoke.

"I want to sing a song for my very special friend Abby, the pretty lady at the bar," Mac said, and I was glad it was dark enough so that people wouldn't see that the pretty woman Mac was referring to was supposed to be me.

The woman at the piano played very softly, and while I didn't recognize the song at first, I surely did when Mac's raspy, sultry voice came in.

"Summertime - and the livin' is easy," Mac sang in a voice that was both rough and soft at the same, and she sounded so much like Janis that I was startled when instead of Sam Andrew's guitar solo, the piano played.

All the time Mac sang she was looking at me, through me. As for me, I was in a daze. When the song began I was hoping Mac wasn't so bad that people would laugh at her, and here I was hanging on every word, hearing the song I had listened to 1000 times - for the first time.

Even though the room was dimly lit, Mackenzie looked stunning standing there next to the piano, caressing the microphone as she disappeared into the lyrics. Her blonde hair looked dazzling, her eyes sparkled, and she looked so amazing that you would have thought she was a professional entertainer. 

When Mac ended the song, singing "Hush little baby, don't you cry," it was way too late for me, because tears were rolling down my face. Mac got a nice cheer from the crowd, and when she came back toward the bar I was on my feet jumping up and down, and I didn't even realize that I had practically jumped into her arms when she rejoined me. 

"Don't cry, Abby," Mac said as she me eased back down into the stool. "It couldn't have been that bad!"

"Sorry," I sniffled. "That was so beautiful."

"Must be the wine," Mackenzie said. "Want another drink?"

Mac's fingers were on my wrist, and her touch felt warm and soothing. I was no longer jumping at every contact, and I had stopped looking around to see if anybody was watching me.

"No," I said haltingly. "I'd - like to go home."

"Tired?" Mac asked.

I shook my head briskly, and my heart was racing as our eyes met, and Mackenzie's smile widened so much it lit up the room.

"Good," she said, tossing money onto the bar before leading me to the door.

...

Chapter 8. Back to my place.

My front door closed behind us, and as I turned the lock the clicking sound seemed to echo in my ears just as Mackenzie moved me gently against the wall, kissing my neck and working upward. When her lips met mine I no longer worried about whether I could kiss or not. 

The countless hours I had spent practicing on my pillow years ago, and on the back of my hand as I fantazied about someday being with my own Prince Charming, were worthless now. Mackenzie's mouth enveloped mine, our tongues were meeting, and all I knew how to do was return her affection.

We were working our way down the hall and towards my bedroom, and Mackenzie's hands were undoing and unhooking everything I was wearing without any resistance, so by the time we found our way to the side of my bed I was down to bra and panties. Mac had lost her blazer on the way, and while I tried to find buttons on her blouse, Mac was deftly unhooking my wonder bra.

I was preparing to apologize for what was being revealed, but Mac gave me no time for that as her hands cupped my modest offerings, kneading and squeezing the little orbs while my nipples popped out in response.

Now Mackenzie's hand was sliding under the elastic of my panties, and she let out a moan as her fingers raked through the forest that surrounded my opening. As Mackenzie's fingers explored, I began squirming in response, almost as if I was trying to mount her hand.

I was on my back somehow, and was now naked and scared. Mackenzie was kneeling next to me, unbuttoning her own blouse while she looked down at me with the sweetest smile I had ever seen.

"You're so beautiful," Mac said as her blouse came off, and I found myself believing her, because I had never experienced being looked at like this.

She leaned down and began nibbling at my breasts, which allowed me to reach around her and unhook her bra, or at least try to. Never having taken another woman's harness off, I found myself having a little trouble, mostly due to my shaking hands.

When I finally got the hooks loose, the bra lurched off of her. Mackenzie's breasts were amazing; large full globes that eased down within my grasp. How incredible they felt when my hands cupped them, and her nipples stood out like bullets the instant my palms touched them.

Mackenzie nibbled her way down my body, and then I felt her tongue parting my opening and doing magical, wonderful things inside of me. I was tearing and clutching at the sheets and I was cumming - an orgasm that came over me in waves - each one stronger than the next. Someone was moaning, almost screaming, and that someone was me. I finally had to pull Mackenzie from between my legs before I fainted, smothering her with hugs and kisses as my body continued to shudder and shake.

I wanted to do that to Mackenzie. I wanted to make her feel the way she had made me feel, and even though I didn't have the slightest idea what I was doing, that wasn't going to stop me. My hands attacked her breasts, kneading those magnificent globes while kissing and nibbling them all over.

I soon found myself between her legs, and the feel of the tiny patch of hair that surrounded her opening was so soft, that it felt like my cheeks were being caressed by a cloud. Her smell made me shiver - so different than my own - yet delicious.

I had a general idea of where to go and what I should do, and from Mac's reaction I wasn't doing too badly. I inhaled her aroma and drank her juices - more intoxicating than any happy hour concoction I had ever made, and when she came, I knew it.

Her thighs squeezed my head tightly and my face got wet when Mackenzie came, but I continued to lick her pearl until her grip on my head finally loosened. Even then, I took my time coming out of her delta, preferring to absorb everything I could with all of my senses.

I eventually made my way up to the top of the bed, taking a slow and serpentine route and allowed me to savor more of Mackenzie's beauty.

"Don't ask me if you did alright," Mackenzie said. "If you couldn't tell, then you truly have no hope."

"I wasn't going to," I lied. 

"You look so different without your clothes," I said, my fingers dancing over her nipple.

"Different good I hope."

"I like the way you look both ways, but you have such an amazing body."

"I would tell you the same thing, but I'm afraid that you would put yourself down and ruin this moment for us," Mackenzie said, leaning over so that her nipple scraped against mine, making me quiver.

"Actually, I don't think I would have," I told her. "I feel so good right now, and you make me feel so comfortable about myself."

We talked for a long time, our hands exploring each other bodies and we eventually fell asleep in each other's arms. I slept like a baby - sleeping so soundly that it made me remember what sleep was supposed to be like. When I woke up the sun was rising, and after I went to the bathroom, instead of going back to bed I scrunched up in the chair beside the bed and looked at Mackenzie sleeping.

Having pulled the sheet down off of her when I got out of bed, I got to examine her body in equisite detail as the room became brighter. Mackenzie was so shapely, and so unlike what I had pictured her to be.




Mac and Me



Her body was muscular, but also very feminine in so many ways. Her legs were shapely, and her buttocks were full yet surprisingly firm. Her breasts - those beautiful breasts - were amazing in their fullness and firmness as well.

I sure wasn't expecting the tiny wisp of hair between her legs, and the complete absence of hair anywhere else. She made me feel like a bear next to her, and when I had mentioned being surprised at feeling the smoothness of her legs and underarms, she told me that was just the way she was, and that she didn't even own a razor.

I was tempted to wake Mackenzie up during my careful studying, but when my eyes left her body briefly and went up to her face, I saw she was staring at me.

"Did I elbow you out of bed?" she asked.

"No, I just didn't want to wake you up by getting back in," I explained.

"I sleep pretty soundly," Macknezie said.

"You wouldn't have been sleeping if I did what I wanted to do to you," I warned her.

"Try me," she said, and as she smiled and welcomed me back in to bed, I crept back in next to her, and even though I still wasn't sure what I doing, I found that I wasn't afraid to try.

...

Chapter 9: Homecoming.

A few months passed, and I was never happier. Mackenzie and I were together every minute we weren't working. I felt like I had to tell the world how happy I was and how incredible Mackenzie was, and although I wasn't ready to take that step, I did want to tell my mother. She was pretty much all the family that I had left, and even though I wasn't sure how this would go over, it was something I needed to do.

"You sure look nervous about this, Abby," Mackenzie said, and I told her she was right. 

"If you want to back out, I understand, but I have a hunch you're worrying over nothing," Mac declared.

The long ride up to Watertown was fun, roaring up the highway in Mackenzie's Mustang, but as we got near to my old homestead, I started to get more and more frightened. What if Mom freaked out? Maybe backing out would be the right thing to do, at least for now. 

I had told Mom that I was bringing up a special friend, but that was as far as I had gone. When we pulled in the driveway, Mom was waiting at the door, looking a little more frail than the last time I was up, but that was my reaction everytime I saw her these days.

Mom greeted Mackenzie warmly, and even though I thought that I had caught a tiny reaction when Mom first saw Mackenzie, she covered it up well, and was her usual warm and gracious self. Mackenzie had never looked more beautiful and feminine, and I wanted to show her the booming metropolis I grew up in, as well as show her off, so we took a stroll.

"This is really something," Mac said as we walked through the little city which had seen better days, but was still recognizable to me.

"Makes Schenectady seem like New York City," I had to admit, lamenting the closing of a couple more stores since my last visit, which underlined the depressed nature of the area in general.

I ran into a couple of people I knew, and after introducing Mackenzie as my friend the first time, dropped the friend part for the second introduction. What do I call her? She's way more than a friend.

"Hi Abigail!" a voice called from the doorway of the local insurance outfit.

"Oh, hi Brad," I answered, stopping to wave at the pudgy guy with the receeding hairline.

"Long time no see," Brad said. "You really look great!"

"You're right. I do," I said in agreement, and I hardly even chuckled when Mackenzie did a double-take when she looked over at me. "Looks more depressing everytime I come back. I see McMillan's closed up."

"Nobody buys groceries anymore, I guess," Brad says. "The liquor store is the only booming business in town."

"That will never change," I said as I surveyed the tired old town which seemed even smaller than ever. "Oh, I'm sorry. Brad, this is Mackenzie."

They nodded to each other, and I felt the need to elaborate.

"Brad and I went to school together," I told Mackenzie. "He was the star of the football team."

"Wasn't much of a team," Brad said, shrugging his shoulders.

"So I remember," I said, grinning a grin that I felt I had earned. "Well, gotta run. Take care."

With that, I did something I still can't believe I did. Just a simple little thing. Before we turned and went down the street, I reached down and took Mackenzie's hand. Mine was wet and shaking, and Mac was startled, but when I squeezed hers, she squeezed back, and it wasn't my imagination when I looked over and saw the look in her eyes.

"Thank you," she said softly as we headed back to Mom's.

..........

Chapter 10: Explaining.

Back at my mother's, I dreaded telling her what I knew I had to tell her, about Mac and me. It was making things easier that the two of them had been getting along so well right from the start. Mac was working her typical Mac charm on my mother, and it never ceased to amaze me how she was able to talk with anybody about anything, and make everybody feel comfortable around her. Then again, I was living proof about that.

After dinner, and after we cleaned up the dishes, I managed to corner my mother alone. I had practiced several speeches, but wasn't confident about any of them, so in the end I just ad-libbed.

"Need anything else done?" I asked Mom, who was busy doing her usual puttering about.

"No dear, I think you and Mackenzie have taken care of everything," she said with her usual smile. "We should figure out the sleeping arrangements though."

I shuddered at the topic, which I knew was coming but I had dreaded nevertheless, but Mom had the floor.

"If you would like, you two can sleep in Dad's and my room," she said. "Can't imagine your old bed being big enough for both of you."

Luckily I was leaning against the kitchen counter or else I would have fallen over. 

"I - we can't do that to you," I said, stumbling for words. 

"There was a lot of love in that room for a lot of years," Mom said. "It would be nice to see that in there again. Besides, there's a lot of space going to waste there. I can sleep in your old room for the night."

"Did Mac tell you something?" I asked.

"Nobody had to tell me anything," Mom said, her eyes twinkling. "All I had to do was look at you when you got here. I hardly recognized you."

"I gained a few pounds," I shrugged, fumbling for words. "Didn't think it showed."

"Not that, Abby. You were different. You looked alive. You looked like you were so happy you wanted to explode. You looked just like I used to feel when Dad was alive."

Tears were rolling down my cheeks by then, and as I wiped them away Mom put her hand on mine.

"You don't know how many times Dad and I would sit around and hope and pray that you would find somebody nice to spend your life with. You were always so sad and always lookied so depressed, so when I saw you get out of that car with your face lit up, I knew something had changed. Something wonderful."

"I wasn't planning on this, Mom. On Mac, or anything. It just happened. I didn't think you would understand. Sometimes even I don't."

"Maybe I wouldn't have, a few years ago," Mom mused. "Times change, and people change. Now that I've been without Dad for a few years, I've learned how much it hurts to be alone, and to be lonely. It's the worst feeling in the world."

"I know," I said.

"At least I have lots of memories to keep my spirits up," she added. "Now maybe I won't have to worry about you so much any more. You have someone of your own now."

"I love her, Mom," I sniffed. "And I think she loves me."

"I think you're right," Mom said. "She seems like a wonderful girl, too. Is there anything in the world she can't do, or doesn't know something about?"

"I don't think so," I said, remembering back to the conversation we had about this trip, and how worried I had been about letting Mom know about my drastically different life.

"She'll be fine with it," Mac had assured me. "If she loves you as much as I think she does, she'll be happy for you."

"She won me over when she fixed that darn leaky faucet five minutes after she walked in the door," Mom said with a laugh.

"Thank you," I said, hugging the woman who had become so much more wise in my eyes over the last few years. "You don't have any idea how happy this makes me."

"I think I do," Mom said. 

"For somebody that's supposed to be so happy, I sure do cry a lot," I said, drying my cheeks for hopefully the last time.

"You're pretty when you laugh, and pretty when you cry too, Abby. It's the other times when you didn't usually look so good," Mom suggested. 

"I hardly even remember those other times," I said, heading upstairs with a bounce in my step. "And thanks for the offer, but we'll be in my room."

I practically skipped up the stairs, feeling like I was a kid again, and was so beside myself with happiness that I almost ran headlong into Mackenzie, who was waiting around the bend in the hall.

"Eavesdropping?" I asked after I yelped in surprise.

"Guilty," Mac said, and she looked as happy as I felt. 

"You were right," I said, feeling Mackenzie's arms bringing me close to her.

"Lucky guess," she said, kissing me and giving me a stern look as we hugged. "Just don't ever say that again."

"Say what?"

"Don't ever say that you THINK I love you," Mac said.

"Okay, but you might change your mind after we spend the night together in this," I said, gesturing at my single bed where I had sentenced us to stay.

"How much more room do we need?" Mac asked, and as usual, she was right as rain. 

....

Epilogue.

It's been almost 20 years now, and Mac and me are still together. It hasn't been all a honeymoon, but the bad patches were so trivial that they hardly mattered, and the good times are always just as special now as they were in the beginning.

A few years back, we bought a nice house way out in the sticks, with plenty of room and few neighbors, which is just the way we like it. 

We had quite a fright last year when Mac had a health scare, and for a while it wasn't looking too good, but thankfully for both of us everything worked out well. A life without Mackenzie is not something I ever want to deal with.

Mom passed away last year. She had a stroke back home, and when they told us that she wouldn't be able to live alone any longer, Mom moved in with us.

It wasn't my idea. It was Mac's, and it wasn't an idea. There was no discussion at all about it, and with us is where Mom spent the last months of her life. The two of them got along so well together that they almost seemed like mother and daughter, which Mackenzie claimed was true.

"As far as I'm concerned, she's my mom too," Mackenzie had told me when she informed me that we would be having a new resident at home. "Didn't get a chance to know my real mother, so she's got another kid as far as I'm concerned, and there's no way that my mother is ever going to go to live in any nursing home."

So she lived with us, her two kids, and when she died, she didn't die alone, and instead was surrounded by all the love a person could ask for.

As for me, I have everything that I could ask for. The stuff; the motorcycle that Mac bought for me and taught me to ride, and the house and the classic cars are all nice, but they're just things. What matters most to me is Mackenzie, and I know that I'm all that really matters to her. 

I don't think that. I know that.

...

thanks for reading.

this story was edited to add a missing word.

There's a portion of a stanza of a song quoted in Chapter 2. The song's title is "Dear Abby" and is written by John Prine.



Mac and Me



This story contains homosexual content. If you are offended by that subject, please read no more. 

*****

My name is Joe and I have been married for about 3 years. I am 44, 6-3, 220 lbs, bald and in average shape. I work with a guy named Mac and have known him for over 20 years when he got hired at my job when he was 18. Mac is now 38 and also married. Mac is 5-11, 170 lbs, short brown hair and thin in stature.

Mac and I, along with our wives have gone out socially together a lot. On many of those occasions, Mac and I outwardly flirt with each other, but not in an obvious way. Our wives know how goofy Mac and I are but don't think of our flirting as anything but silliness. Little do they know we have drunk texted each other pictures of our dicks and even confessed to each other that we would suck each other off if given the right set of circumstances. 

Mac came to me one day at work and told me that he just got a company email that said he had to go to Austin, Texas for training. He asked if I was being sent to training also. I went to my office and pulled up my email and found the same training notice in my inbox. The training was scheduled in 2 weeks and instantly realized it was bad timing for me because I had other things planned during that time. I went to Mac's office to tell him.

"I have to go too", I said.

Mac excitedly said, "Cool! We can get drunk all week!"

I said, "I have shit planned at home during that week."

Mac said, "I'll be bored off my ass if you don't go! Plus, the email said it is mandatory training, so you can't back out."

"I'm not gonna back out, but now I have to rearrange everything."

During the next 2 weeks, the pictures we've sent each other and the talk about sucking each other's cock crossed my mind a few times. I got mildly excited thinking about the possibility, but didn't think anything more of it. It was just another typical kinky thought that crosses my mind.

The two weeks went by and we flew to Austin. When we arrived, we checked into our rooms. I was on the 9th floor and Mac was on the 12th floor. We agreed to drop our luggage and immediately head out for dinner.

There was a sports bar next door to the hotel and was highly recommended by the hotel staff. We went next door and found a great spot at the bar where we could watch baseball on the television. After dinner and 3 or 4 beers, Mac pulled out his cell phone and started looking through his pictures. I glanced over as he was scrolling and saw the picture of a penis go by.

"Wait! What was that?"

Mac reversed his scrolling and clicked on the dick pic. When it came up, he pointed his phone toward me and quietly said, "It's your cock."

I asked, "You still have it?"

Mac said, "Of course I do! It's my prized possession!"

I laughed and asked, "Prized possession or blackmail material?"

Mac smiled. "Maybe a little of both."

As we continued drinking, we did a little of our usual flirting, but then went back to watching the game. I got a little horny at the thought of Mac still having a picture of my cock in his phone. After another hour or so of drinking, we decided to head back to the hotel. As we walked toward the hotel, the thought of being here for a full week with Mac made me legitimately curious. I had never been with another man, but I was pretty sure I could get Mac to play with me if I went about it the right way. I could feel my flaccid penis dripping in my boxers as we made small talk while we walked. 

We arrived at the hotel and entered the elevator. As soon as the door closed, Mac said, "It's pretty late. What are you going to do the rest of the night?"

"I'm probably just gonna jack off real quick and get ready for bed. Training starts early."

Mac said, "Jack off, huh?"

We both laughed.

The elevator stopped at the 9th floor and I told Mac goodnight. As I walked off the elevator and the door began to close, Mac said, "Send me a picture of it."

I put my hand out to stop the elevator door from closing and asked, "What?"

Mac had an awkward look on his face and said, "Send me a picture of you jacking off."

I was a little shocked when he said that because I felt like he really wasn't showing much interest in me at the bar. I got butterflies in my stomach as I thought of the response.

I nervously smiled back and said, "Why don't you come take the picture yourself?"

Mac instantly replied, "I never thought you'd ask."

I laughed, turned around and said "Goodnight" as I walked toward my hotel room.

Just when I thought I was alone, I heard, "Wait for me."

I turned around and saw Mac following behind me. I smiled, we walked to my room and went inside.

I turned around toward Mac and asked, "So, you really want to take a picture of this?"

The instant I finished my last word, Mac grabbed my pants and pulled my zipper down. He put his hands inside my fly and began searching for my cock. I was blown away by his outward desire to get to my man meat and decided to let him see all of it.

"Let me help you."

I unbuttoned my pants, let them drop to the floor and then yanked my boxers down to my ankles. Mac went to his knees and looked my semi hard cock eye to eye. Mac had the look of a kid in a candy store and quickly put my dick in his hand. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and pointed it at my cock.

He said, "I want to get a picture of it in my hand."

As Mac lined his phone up to take the picture, he began slowly stroking my quickly growing cock shaft. He said, "I want a picture of it, hard."

We had already gotten this far and wanted him to put me in his mouth. Now was the time to seize the moment, so I put my hand on the back of Mac's head and pulled his face in toward my cock. Mac stared straight at my penis as it moved closer and closer. Mac now realized what I wanted and put his phone on the floor.

As the tip of my cock reached his face, Mac spread his lips and allowed my cock head to enter his mouth. I released my hand and allowed his grip to take control of my penis. His head continued forward as my cock moved deeper into his throat. Mac pulled his head back and moved my cock out of his mouth, looked directly at the tip of my cock and said, "I never thought I'd really be doing this." He quickly put me back in his mouth and started sucking my cock again.

Mac started sliding his hand and mouth up and down my cock shaft simultaneously. As he gained confidence, his movements gained speed and his rhythm became consistent. Only a couple minutes passed when I began to feel my orgasm slowly approaching. Mac's technique was so amazing that it was hard to believe he was a first time cocksucker, but at this point I didn't care.

"Dude, slow down. You're gonna make me cum."

Mac groaned as he heard that and picked up his speed. Just a few minutes ago he became an impromptu cocksucker, but his excitement showed he was now a willing participant. My load began climbing my raging cock shaft and wasn't stopping.

I growled deeply and announced my imminent orgasm, "I'm gonna cum!"

I tried to pull myself out of Mac's mouth but he continued pulling and slurping on my cock. I had no other option but to cum now. I groaned loud as my cock tensed up and pulsed over and over again as I released my seed deep into my flirt buddy's throat. Mac groaned loudly and his movements became unorthodox as he felt my load collide with his tonsils. Shot after shot aggressively sprayed into his mouth. He slowed his cock sucking to a crawl as my orgasm eventually subsided.

Mac stood up, walked to my bathroom and spit my semen into the toilet. He turned around toward me, smiled and wiped the residual seed from his face. Mac walked toward me and bent down to pick up his phone.

As Mac walked out the door, he looked back with a smile and said, "I guess I'll have to get my picture tomorrow."