Nathan Kay
"I know two very bad secrets about this situation," the girl said to him, near the entrance of the bar.
"The first is that you're still in pain."
"I'm in pain?"
"Yes, you're haunted by your ex-girlfriend."
"No, no," he lied. "That's been and done. What's the second secret?"
"I can't tell you."
"Tell me," he demanded, with his beer breath filling that small space between their faces.
She looked into his drunken eyes for hope.
"The second secret is that we will have sex tonight."
He knew he was dealing with a woman in want. She wanted more than just sex, but he knew that she would use it as a tool, and that probably it would be good. He didn't care too much for caution at the end of the night, drunk, with a determined girl.
They made too much noise locking up their bikes in the courtyard. A light came on
above from one of the apartments in the block.
"Why are you here?" She said.
"I live here."
"Why?" She pressed. Her eyes were that of a hypnotized pelican.
"What are you really asking?"
"Maybe I should go."
"Do you want to go?"
She locked her bike to his, saying nothing.
"Shhh," he said and led her up the dark narrow side stair of the building.
"How long will you stay in this city?"
"Another year at least," he said, "I don't know."
She said nothing.
He gave her a glass of tap water as soon as they were in the door. Then he
went the bathroom to check that the toilet wasn't disgusting, washed his hands
and balls in the sink, and returned to the kitchen.
"You're in pain." She spoke with her eyes as well as her mouth. "I can see it."
"I'm okay. What do you mean?"
"You're not ready."
Her words were cryptic and intense. Her craziness was making itself known to him.
"Oh, my ex. That was a long time ago now. Since I last saw you a lot has happened."
"You're healing?"
"It's over," he said, getting tired of being on defense.
He kissed her on the neck. Her hair smelled of smoke and skin cream. She responded by pushing him back against the kitchen sink. His cock stiffened, and he knew she liked the feel of it against her stomach.
Shirts came off easily.
He was good at removing a bra with one hand. The index and second finger pull the top side upwards as the thumb pushes the other strap forward and under, creating a natural space for the hook to open in. Although he was left handed, he unbuckled bras with his right. This bra came off instantly, with no lapse in momentum.
Their jeans were not as simple. Hers came off remarkably well, but he had difficulty. Because he was trapped between the girl and the kitchen sink, he had little wiggle room, and so he just let them drop to his ankles. The problem with this is that then he had bunched up jeans, underwear and socks binding him and limiting his movement and stance.
"Take them off," said the girl. He stepped on his jean leg with one foot and pulled the other leg upwards, turning the jean inside out and squeezing the foot within the leg of the jean. This only made things worse of course, because now his balance was compromised. The girl backed up and watched as he crouched down and untangled himself.
He returned to eye level.
"You're sexy," she said. Momentum returned, he thought.
Now naked, they felt each other's bodies and kissed. Sucking on one tit, he could smell her armpit. It wasn't great, so he returned to her neck (smoke and skin cream).
Then the girl put one leg up on the counter and attempted to mount him. It didn't work this way, so she put the other leg up as well.
He helped her out by sitting his ass on the edge of the sink. The only problem as they fucked like this was that there were several dirty dishes in the sink and on the counter. The girl knocked some of them as she moved her body up and down.
"We're going to fuck a lot," she told him.
"Yeah?" Did she mean tonight, or over some undermined future?
He felt a wet saucepan touch his ass. This, coupled with his concern about the possibility of broken dishes, led him to push her back down off the counter.
"Don't worry about dishes! Fuck me!" she hollered at him. He was sure the neighbors would complain the next day. They had before.
He led her to his desk chair and turned her around.
"Oh, you want me from the back," she fluttered.
He felt more and more like fucking and less and less like talking, but he wasn't entirely selfish about that fact. sure how to get that across to her.
"Put your knees up on the chair." She did, and they fucked briefly in this position. The chair rocked and squeaked. Then the girl's arm slipped and she lost her balance for a moment. She stood up, took a few steps to the sofa, laid down and opened her legs.
"Penetrate me," she said. "I want you to penetrate me."
Who said words like this? He hadn't heard this from a woman ever before. It seemed so scientific and methodical like a german, robot. He didn't say a thing, but did penetrate her.
"Do you like penetrating me?" she said. Her eyes were that of a witch looking into a book of potions -- creepy, determined, and with some kind of evil plans.
"Mmmm, yes," he said, "it's really good." He didn't know what to say. He wasn't used to making running commentary while playing the game himself. He knew, though, that he would have to play along.
He fucked faster and her legs flew around. A loud throng banged in the room as something hit the floor. His guitar had been knocked off it's stand by one of her flailing feet. He ignored it for a moment, but then couldn't bear the image of a musical instrument laying awkwardly on the floor. He stopped and put it back on it's stand and then remounted.
