Abacus

Chloe and Alan had their moment in part 1. We now join our protagonist as he confronts a worried older sister.

*****

As predicted, my apartment door buzzed, seven minutes after Chloe rushed to pull on her clothes.

There is much privilege and many advantages to occupying the top two floors of a 3 story building in Manhattan. I have plenty of space, and no one complains about noise. That's especially true since my ground floor tenant is a clothing boutique that sells thrift store items at astonishingly high prices; they'd been closed for a couple of hours.

By the time the buzzer rang, Chloe was long gone. I'd cleaned up the apartment and taken a quick shower. I'd put on a jeans and a t shirt. I'm efficient under pressure.

I knew when she'd be arriving because Chloe's "find my phone" app had provided a fairly clear passage of the sister as she moved from west 110th street down to my apartment.

The young woman was angry. She wore some sort of long coat, but she seemed trim, athletic. She had subdued reddish brown hair, cut short and straight. The family resemblance was obvious.

"Where is she?"

"Who?"

"My sister."

"Who's your sister?"

"You know my sister. She's the teenager you've abducted."

I considered my options, including suggesting that I abduct so many teenagers that it's just damn difficult to keep them all straight.

"Are you talking about Chloe?"

"Yes, where is she?"

"You must be Irene, her superstar sister who is being recruited to Columbia before getting rich, saving the underprivileged, and joining the Supreme Court."

"Where is she?"

Irene's neck veins were sharply distended. Like her sister, she had freckles and beauty.

"I assume she's back at your hotel. She left an hour ago."

"Bullshit. She's here."

"Do you want to check?"

She paused.

"Seriously. you know my address. Text a friend. Tell them you're going up to a potential crime scene. Here's my driver's license. Send it out. Tell them to call the cops in half an hour if they haven't heard from you."

She looked at me, appraisingly.

I pulled out my phone and tapped.

"Here I am. I'm a partner at a law firm your future classmates will kill to join. Recognize the face?"

She nodded.

"Come upstairs, and you can see for yourself."

We walked.

My second floor is one large room. An old factory where they made shoes back in the old days. 14 foot ceilings. There's a kitchen on one end. At the other end, floor-to-ceiling windows or floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. I have a lot of books. Chloe, anticipating a once-in-a-lifetime fucking, did not notice the books. Irene, obsessed with bookish success, noticed.

No one, obviously, was hiding behind the couch.

Irene bounded up the stairs to my 3rd floor lair. I followed her slowly and watched her look around. A sitting room, bathroom, and very large bedroom. No handcuffs, no candles, and obviously no Chloe.

She turned to me. "Where is she?"

"Come back downstairs."

She did.

"Why don't you call her?"

"I've been calling for two hours."

"Try again."

She did.

The phone rang, muffled by having wedged itself into a couch cushion.

Irene grabbed the phone, stared at it, and turned abruptly to me.

"Why didn't you fucking answer?"

"I walked Chloe downstairs, and then went to a local watering hole for a beer. I just got back. She must have left it here."

She glared at me.

"Hey, I'm happy to walk you over to the bar to verify my alibi."

Actually, I wouldn't have wanted to walk her over to a bar that didn't exist, but I didn't think she'd check.

"Hey, Irene, superstar older sister. I'm sure she's fine. Let's call the hotel. She should be there by now."

Irene called. Chloe answered. Muffled confirmation.

Irene looked at me.

"So, it seems that you're not a serial murderer."

I shrugged my shoulders and answered, "yet."

"Ha." She pursed her lips. "What are you doing bringing a teenager back to your apartment?"

I looked at Irene.

"I was working on an abacus problem at a diner."

"C'mon. You've got to be kidding."

"I'm allowed to be quirky." I smiled reassuringly at the 22-year-old law school applicant who was multiple levels below me on the power grid, who'd been drinking at a law school function, who'd just been reassured that I hadn't converted her younger sister into a sex slave.

She smiled back. "Let me reframe, counselor. What were you intending by bringing a teenager back to your apartment?"

"Irene, I love to teach, so I thought I could teach her to use an abacus and relate it to 21st century law."

"Really? Sex didn't enter into your thinking?"

We made steady eye contact.

"Can I offer you a drink? Water, wine?" She hesitated. "Maybe champagne since we're celebrating."

"What are we celebrating?"

"That you've saved your sister and also made a new friend."

"It looks like I didn't save her from anything, and I haven't made a friend."

"Sit for a while. Let me take your coat."

She slowly gave me her coat. I noticed she was wearing sweat pants and a t shirt, and I caught her taking a quick glance in a mirror. As I popped the champagne and poured two glasses, I told her the truth, that I was pleased to meet her. I held up my glass.

"To your career."

She nodded warily.

"Listen, your sister is lovely and very attentive, but I wasn't interested in pushing anything."

"And so you didn't make a play on her?"

"She told me about her boyfriend and her sophomore year of college, and I just didn't have the guts to be embarrased by a teenager. Simple as that."

She seemed to be mulling next steps.

"But enough about the misunderstanding, tell me about today's Ivy league experience. I'm curious."

While she talked, I looked at her reddish-brown hair, her firm neck, and her very clear eyes. I refilled her glass.

For some reason, I thought of Silence of the Lambs. I thought of Jodie Foster, who, in the film, was also a West Virginian, though Foster, herself, is a lesbian Yalie. I scanned Irene's body, noticing that when she drank her champagne, her breasts swayed slightly. She'd not put on a bra.

As we finished off those second glasses of champagne, I yawned. We put our glasses on the table.

"Irene McIntyre, I have thoroughly enjoyed getting to know you. I'm impressed."

"It does seem a little asymmetrical," Irene said. "I talked and talked, and you never said anything about yourself."

"What would you like to know?"

"What goes on in that head of yours."

I refilled the glasses.

"Well, I'm thinking of a brief I need to review by tomorrow morning. One of my associates will be working on it all night, but she should be able to send by dawn."

I took a sip and stood. It was getting late.

She stood a couple feet from me and also took a sip. "So people like me, young lawyers, just do whatever you ask?"

I felt my cock get hard, again.

"You're funny, Irene. Yes, we pay these 30 year olds a lot of money to work all night, though, to be honest, they aren't the sort of millennials who say no to work."

"Do you bring them here, offer them champagne?"

"Of course not."

"I'm special?"

"You are. I'd never ply a sexually available employee with champagne."

"I hadn't realized I was sexually available."

I looked into her clear eyes and held her hand. She didn't squeeze back, but she didn't pull away.

"You're not a teenager like Chloe, and you don't work for me, so that makes you sexually available."

I stroked her forearm.

"It remains to be seen whether you'll do whatever I ask."

She smiled. "I guess we'll never know."

I smiled and stepped into her space. She stood firm. "I think we're going to find out soon."

We kissed. I ran my hands down her back, gripping her butt over her sweat pants, and then under.

"What do you think you're doing, mister?"

"I'm fondling a great ass. A perfect ass." I paused. "I'm kissing the neck of a beautiful young woman." I caressed. I tweaked a nipple, then the other. She moaned. I pulled apart slightly, giving my hand some room to roam. "Now, Irene, I'm untying these lovely sweat pants."

She didn't try to slow me but did grab my neck as I pulled off her pants.

"Jesus," she said, "you don't fool around."

We didn't speak as we scrambled to pull off each other's clothes.

Within a minute, I was sinking myself into her shaved pussy, fucking her roughly, strongly on my living room floor.

Half an hour later, we were upstairs in my bed, and I was fucking her doggy style on the same sheets I'd used to fuck her sister.

Irene's hair wasn't as fiery as Chloe's, but her skin was equally pale, and mottled a similar red when she was excited. She came rather easily, and repeatedly, especially when I held her down and repeated lines Chloe had told me, lines that she'd overheard from her sister, lines that had activated her own daddy curiosity.

As I slid in and out, I told her that she was lovely. Depending on the orifice I was fucking, I might have said that she had a lovely mouth, and that daddy liked how well she used it. Or that daddy liked the sweet wetness of her pussy. Or that daddy was sorry he had to penetrate her ass, was sorry that he had to punish her and spank her, but his princess needed to learn not to be so slutty, that she shouldn't show off her tits to any guy who said she was pretty, shouldn't spread her legs for any cowboy who'd buy her a beer. She needed to save herself just for me. I didn't over-do the talking, but she it did seem to add to the intensity..

Irene writhed and sobbed and came like a firecracker. Eventually, I came as well, spurting into her panting, wet mouth.

Later, we hugged and gathered our things.

Irene picked up Chloe's phone and made for the door.

She looked at me.

"I enjoyed tonight," she said. "But don't tell Chloe about it. She's a kid."

"I doubt if I'll see her again, but sure. Why would I tell her?"

"You're impressive, especially for an old guy."

"That's kind of insulting, Irene. I'm not so old that I wouldn't get hard when someone as beautiful as yourself pulls off her clothes."

"I was actually talking about your ability to use the "find a phone" function to know when I was about to arrive. Tech savvy old dudes get me all hot and bothered."

I didn't say anything.

"Did you know that I have access to photos and passwords?"

I shook my head. "How would I know that?"

"Exactly. Did you know that her videos went directly to my phone? I didn't check them until I was on my way here, so my time was limited, but I got the gist. I've always considered her a bit prudish, but I thought she gave a pretty good blowjob."

"Oh, and by the way, I thought it was hot the way you groomed her online. You're very good at it. The only negative was her willingness to throw me under the bus, as if I were some out of control tramp who didn't take care of herself. Sheesh."

I stared at her.

"But don't worry. Most of that stuff has been deleted, and everything else will be gone by tomorrow. And it will be completely safe on my private server."

She picked up the two glasses of champagne and gave me one.

She smiled at me with her clear eyes and reddish brown hair.

"To my career."