Written by Claudia Belle, and edited by Karen Cole-Peralta.
ONE
It was one of those empty, Godforsaken nights. Jessica's lonely mind was on the twilight ending, and heading home to her dog. It would be another painfully bitter evening, she thought to herself. A tad bit restless. She felt, well,
bitchy.
Even the days had been cold, and it had been a long while, maybe years, since she had enjoyed a good time with another human being.
She had worked hard that afternoon, and was walking into the parking lot, thinking of the events of the day. Contemplating her co-workers; that is, the few who wanted to go out with her. But she wasn't ready, she was thinking. No, it was too soon to even take a moment for herself. The honest truth was that she was still extremely afraid. In a sad, forlorn and miserably enforced way. Time heals all, she had formerly believed, but it had already been two or three years since her husband had passed away, and she still hadn't gotten over it.
She'd considered that she was losing her mind. Deeply. Anymore time alone, and she would go
crazy!
There had been nights when all she could think of was her desires, and the silence had mocked her in return with a groan. A growing ache had begun again to reach out from inside her, and she found herself unable to sleep. Was it her loneliness, or her self-satisfaction that egged her on?
It wasn't just her own lonely ego, she came to realize; it was other things. Needful things. The human touch and tenderness, she reassured herself.
Love,
she exclaimed on her ascent up the staircase. But
something
else, pushing its way out inside her, disgustedly disagreed. True love had failed her, so long ago. There was another, more savage and impatiently wicked impulse, a mysteriously strong force that needed reckoned with soon:
it.
This feeling had been working its way into a steady state of luscious anxiety. Each and every night she had felt the need for another's touch. Just when she thought she would release it, she tucked it back inside her icy body shamefully, and closed her eyes to block it.
Why did she do this to herself, she wondered. And here again she asked all the wrong questions, not listening to her feelings. Truth is, she was
perhaps
afraid. But of
what,
she had to use all her faculties to so much as question. After all, indeed, of
what?
*
She had parked her ass on the third floor, and she wasn't too afraid to be alone. She was
used
to the lingeringly empty nights. She had become accustomed to being just plain lonely. It didn't bother her, as it had years after the accident. Although she hoped things would be different, she hurried to the elevator, hoping to avoid the security guard that had always flirted with her, even before she had become a widow.
She hated that. But sometimes she wondered whether she liked it, since she never told him to back off. Perhaps she wanted a change in her life. Was she ready for such a thing? Could she detach herself from the person she had once been? Was she ready to date anyone?
She wasn't sure, anymore. But that feeling of ample eagerness had begun to creep again all through her pristine body. She could feel it between her stomach and breasts, which blushed, and she accidentally brushed her own nipple with the strap of her purse. Daily, her nipples were growing steadily harder, like an unspeakable erotic force.
Realizing this, she felt her panties moisten, and she tried to hurry away, to hide her shame. Suddenly
all
excited, and she didn't know why. Had the thought of this flirtish security guard awakened some strange new feelings inside her? But why, she wondered.
Perhaps she wanted some excitement, someone to keep her company during those lonely nights at home. But she pushed the thought out of her head. She didn't even like the guy--she tried to convince herself of this. He was an
asshole,
she thought, and he had a thing about sex. He was even a
pervert!
And she could see it in his eyes, which wanted to fuck with her, even before she was a widow. He would purposely brush up against her, and press his hand into the lower portion of her back.
She hurried away, but something inside slowed her steps. Did she honestly want to stop and talk to him? And that
something
inside her was exploding, and making her blood rush. She could feel herself shaking violently, and her breasts, pricked and rounded, were as always so full, so well-supported, but now harder than melons, and almost entirely visible through the silk blouse she was forced to wear. The buttons were very close to popping.
She didn't understand it. But the feeling was overwhelming. And a little too much more than she could handle. Had it been so long that the single thought of a man had a burning effect on her? It was like eating at a Mexican restaurant, and feeling the bite of a certain spice.
She climbed into the elevator just as big beaded drops of moisture between her legs began to wash down and soak her panties. But it seemed she had avoided trouble for now, and she breathed a sigh of relief as the doors closed in front of her.
She stretched her full red lips into a comically acrid smile, having previously been a smoker of cigs, and wondered what a night of wild sex would
be
with a guy like that...
The elevator stopped, and she took a step towards the door to leave, only to find herself face to face with the
man
she had been trying to avoid. He smiled, holding the elevator door open and blocking her only exit. He was neither handsome nor ugly. His face was covered in a roughly light-colored beard, while a black security cap's brim over his large brown eyes was shadowing them from the rest of his face. He was tall, and although he was slightly huge and larger than her, he wasn't fat; just husky in size. So very husky, and in all probability, hairy.
She stumbled back, her bright eyes dropped to the floor, and a sigh escaped her clown-painted lips. At once her heart started racing wildly--she could hear it. She felt a flood gush out between the pink and apparently open mouth of her cunt, and she groaned
mercifully
that she couldn't move.
Suddenly, she was aware that her pink nipples were visibly poking through her silk white blouse, haplessly revealing her excitement.
"Going home
already?"
he grinned, so that she followed his black beady eyes and noticed him looking down at her pricked chest. And she watched as he licked his lips, managing a shift of the ball sack in his pants.
He grabbed at his crotch, pretending to be adjusting the belt, where he carried his walkie-talkie. There were voices coming from the walkie-talkie, another officer calling for him to pick up, but he seemed to ignore them briefly before he picked it up, and answered angrily.
"I'm
doing
that now!" he gruffly informed the other security officer, and buried the impoverished-looking walkie-talkie back in the strap of his belt. Although he made every attempt to conceal the way he looked at her, she noticed it right away.
"You
trying to avoid
me?"
he uttered, through that brush of hair he called a beard.
"No,
of course not. Don't be silly," she forced herself to say, pulling forward her waist-long black hair, hoping a few locks could help hide her full, pale breasts beneath them.
He stumbled into the elevator, releasing the doors carelessly.
