Daniel sighed as he saw his reflection in his car's side mirror. The amber street lights lent a splash of artificial and momentary colour to an otherwise pale complexion against the surrounding darkness and desolate feeling of the dead industrial zone. It was late to be going anywhere, but Clara had insisted to him enough that he was scared she would plead or cry at any further resistance. He could never bear to hear her upset and the joyful ringing of her voice when he agreed to go brought an involuntary smile to his face. Still, as he drove, he puzzled, tried unsuccessfully to think of a reason for the time of day, and eventually decided to put it out of his mind.
He blotted out his doubts with the roar of the engine and the harsh distorted guitars playing through the stereo. The warm humid summer wind blew through the open windows, sending the mop of white-blond hair on Daniel's head flying in a chaotic flurry. As he cleared the industrial zone, the rushing air from passing cars seemed to blend with his music. Together they crashed like violent waves over the shores of his consciousness with an ominous and mysterious fury, sending shivers through him of random emotions and sensations that flashed out of view before he could truly feel or understand them.
Finally, the chaos subsided and a and cheerful anticipation overcame his doubts as he parked outside Clara's apartment block. The building looked out of place among the grey boxes of blocks that surrounded it; its ornate white pillars, thick rendered walls and double glazed windows gave it a stark, unearthly air of mystique. As Daniel climbed the stairs and knocked on the door, a smile swept over his face. His knocks echoed uneasily through the dimly lit hallway, followed by complete silence for a few seconds.
As Clara opened the door, she already wore a warm smile matching his, belying the dim lighting both from the hallway and from inside her apartment. Nevertheless, even without much light, Daniel could see Clara as he remembered her. She was short, shapely but not skinny, with long, wavy brown hair, and wearing one of her polkadot dresses; this time, it was blue with white dots. She had barely ushered him in and closed the door before kissing him soundly on the lips.
"I've really missed you," she said, resting her hands on his hips and smiling up at him.
"I've missed you too."
She moved her hands to his arm and gently squeezed. "You've been working out."
Clara had been encouraging him to exercise; he had complied, and now appeared evidently fit and healthy, and somewhat muscular, if not athletic.
"Well, I'm glad you like the whole me getting exercise thing."
"I just want you to be happy. It'll help you feel better too," she said, pinching his cheek and wrapping an arm around his back as she walked toward the black leather sofa. Every piece of furniture in the room was black or glass-coated, the latter of which reflected the flickerings of moonlight that shone through the open French doors leading to the balcony. The sofa, and everything else in the room, felt very slightly damp from the thick humid tropical air, and the breeze seemed to have died down, leaving a sticky sticky stillness as they sat together on the sofa.
"You're really sweet," floated Daniel's compliment through the viscous, slow-moving air.
Clara smiled and chuckled slightly, looking down and to the side briefly.
"What've you been doing?", enquired Daniel, a little hesitantly.
"Not that much," she replied, and with a chuckle, "and not enough to get buffed up like you. No, I see people, I watch TV, and I knit. It's the same old me."
Those few seemingly innocent words, "I see people", carried a special meaning and sent an unwelcome spark of pain through Daniel. Clara recognised it before he could choke it back and wrapped an arm around his neck, stroking his hair backwards.
"This is me, sweetie. You know me," she said, smiling just a little eerily. "And you know I can't be other than who I am."
This he did, though other than that there was at least one other man in her life, the rest remained a mystery to him. He did know that somehow, without working, she could afford an expensive apartment, furniture, appliances, jewelery and clothes. Over time, he had lost any inclination to ask what she gave in return, although at this point a phrase echoed inside his head, "You're not the only one". The thought of another man taking her from him never quite reached the surface of his consciousness, but lurked in the background like a distant cyclone; its threat was forever imminent, its whirlwinds and crackling thunder looming on the threshold of every sense, circling, but never approaching. Yet on the threshold, there was no way to tell what its shape was--to tell who, or what, exactly, was the driving force in Clara's life that she steadfastly refused to reveal.
He sighed. "I just don't want to think about it."
"Then don't," said Clara, kissing him on the cheek. "You know that no matter what else I do, I love you, and you're really special to me."
Daniel turned and looked at Clara with a mixture of affection and discomfort.
"You know it's different with you," she said to him, massaging his scalp through his hair, then pulling his forehead to her lips and kissing it slowly. Her sweet perfume seeped through the small space between them and bound with his affections to smother his discomfort.
"I love you too," he murmured, sliding his fingertips down one side of her neck. She let out a breath and the hint of a moan, and his look of discomfort melted away. Seeing she had overcome his hesitation, her infectious smile grew across her face.
"Kiss me. I want to feel you."
Not needing any further invitation, he wrapped his arms around her waist and easily pulled her close, kissing her hard, sucking biting on her lip. She melted into his arms, held him close and kissed back. Taken by the aggressive overtones of his embrace, she dug her fingertips into his back and held him tightly, her fingernails pressing through the thin fabric of his shirt.
Sliding his arms up her back, slowly, while kissing her, he began to unzip her dress; she smiled at him through his kiss, and bit his lip harder as she kissed back. He breathed a little harder in anticipation as her dress fall away, holding her tightly, feeling her soft, supple, smooth skin. She always felt perfect to him, and he could feel the tension flow out of her as he held her, kissing her.
Clara pulled away gently, and smiling, stepped out of her dress, which fell to the floor without a sound. Daniel had rarely known her to wear underwear, and this night was no exception; with her dress fallen away, her nude body shone at him in the reflection of the moonlight. A warm tropical breeze ruffled through her hair; the light reflected from her cheeks and her breasts, and together with her hand, beckoned to him. Feeling a surging mixture of lust, frustration and affection, he stood. Sensing his need, she reached for his jeans, unbuckling, unfastening and unzipping them in a single, smooth, well-practised reflex that brought them to his knees in seconds. A sharp breath and a shiver forced itself out of him.
"Mmmm... getting hard already," she said as she smiled playfully at him, taking his hardening cock in her hand and stroking it gently. Her joyful laughter echoed discordantly over him as his body followed her lead. He traced her curves downward from her shoulders with each hand, pausing to squeeze her breasts gently, dragging a moan from her lips. As his cock grew hard for her, she licked her lips at him and looked him in the eye.
"Tell me."
She always wanted to be told, and telling him was the beginning and the first part of his catharsis.
"Get down on your knees and suck my cock."
In a single, fluid, graceful movement, she fell to her knees in front of him and plunged his cock deeply into her throat. He let out a loud, uncontrolled moan, feeling the sudden rush of pleasure, and struggled to breathe to hold himself together. Clara slowly pulled her mouth away and smiled up at him sweetly.
"You know I love it when you tell me," pealed a girlish voice from her lips.
"But now you have to remind me," she said, stroking his cock gently in one hand and giggling a little, "did you want more?"
Baring his teeth slightly, the strained reply came out.
"I want you... to keep... sucking my cock."
"Ooo-ooh..." mocked Clara, still stroking him slowly. "But do I wanna? That's the question."
"I want you to be a good... fucking... girl, and suck my cock."
