All characters are over the age of 18.
"Art's sperm tastes good, like pineapple," Steffi thought to herself.
"I like it in my hair, on my bare, everywhere," she said to herself, with a smile, as Art pulled the car back onto the road and headed home.
Home for Steffi and Art isn't exactly Melrose Place, but rather a strip-mall version, with 30 identical units arranged in a horse-shoe pattern, around a court-yard pool.
Steffi appreciated the way each distinctive tap and click of her step echoed in the concrete staircase, announcing her arrival to the neighborhood, as they walked up to the second floor, along the open interior hall and into their two bedroom apartment.
When Art was away, Steffi liked to stand at the metal railing just beyond their apartment door. She noticed the shadows behind some of the partly drawn window curtains, and thought about her neighbors, appreciating their peek-a-boo view, a voyeur's afternoon delight.
"We'll you must have enjoyed yourself tonight," Art said.
Steffi leaned back into their leather sofa, placed her hands on her knees and looked down at her shoes, concentrating on the peep-toe opening and the still-perfect red polish.
She understood from the tone of Art's voice, he was in the mood, and she felt herself becoming aroused at the thought.
"With the stranger and later when she sucked off Art in the car, that was different, she was the one in control," she rationalized.
Now, Art is the one in control, or at least that's what he perceives; and Steffi, liked to play along. It all seemed like an amusement and coincidentally turned them both on.
Art thought about his role in their play, as the one superior to Steffi, and he felt less than sanguine at the moment.
Her performance with the stranger in the Walmart parking lot, the fact that Steffi could disassociate herself from the act, left him feeling threatened and vulnerable.
"Stand up," he said.
"Let me look at you."
If there was one thing Steffi enjoys, it's posing, like some sort of car show magazine model. It was something that got Art hot, and frankly, many of the creeps in their apartment complex going too.
"Here you go sweetie," Steffi said, as she stood like a statue before Art, her hands reaching up into her hair, her lips in a pout, her feet pointed inward, all signaling submission and seduction.
She bent over, ran her fingertips over her ankles, up along her calf, over her breasts, and took her index finger into her mouth, sucking and biting the polished nail like a baby.
"Stand over there," Art said.
