Friends: Deleted Scenes - Closure
"...so obviously, I am over you. I am over YOU and that, my friend, is what they call cl-o-sure."
With this Rachel ended the call and tossed the phone into the nearby wine bucket.
"Check, please," Michael said loudly and urgently, getting the attention of their waiter.
As the patron at the next table retrieved his phone from the icy bucket, Michael helped Rachel up from the table, with apologies to the man.
They left the restaurant, both bundled up against the chill in the fall breeze. Rachel held his arm, mostly to keep in an upright position. He realized that she would never make it home on her own. He hailed a cab and as they climbed in, he asked for her address. This, she was able to remember and a short time later, they arrived at her building in the heart of Greenwich Village.
Stepping out of the cab, Rachel lost her footing and, quite ungracefully, fell to the sidewalk, landing on her butt. She shrieked and laughed with a loud exhale of air. "Lookit me... I fffell on my ass," she slurred with humor only a inebriated person would find.
Michael finished paying the cabbie, then helped her to her feet. She clumsily brushed the dirt off the back-side of her knee-length coat.
"Okay, Rachel. We're at your apartment now, " he said to her, slowly and clearly, wanting to ensure that she understood. "I'll help you upstairs and you can sleep it off."
"But I don't want to sleep it off," she protested mildly as he guided her into the foyer and up the stairs. "We can still go out and party."
"No, that's all right," he said, gently. "You've had enough partying for one evening."
Reaching the door, Rachel dug into her purse, but quickly abandoned her search. "I can't find my key... can you find my key?"
"Um... sure." he said, taking the small clutch from her.
Just then, the realization hit her foggy mind. "Oh Michael... I'm so sorry. I've ruined our date... I've just fffucked it up."
"No, no... it's okay... I need to get home anyway," he assured her. "And you've probably got things to do in the morning, too."
Even in her intoxicated state, Rachel saw through his excuses. "No, rreally. You were just a wwwonderful gentleman, and a wwwonderful restaurant, and wwwonderful wine... but I just fffucked it all to hell." Rachel's sad look soon turned to a seductive smile as an idea came to her. "Well, I can still make it up to you... how about I just give YOU a little bl-ow-job."
Michael stopped looking for her key, unsure that he heard her correctly. "Um, what?"
"A bl-ow-job," she repeated. "You know, I'll sssuck on your cockhh." She slipped between him and the door. Her fingers gripped the lapels of his jacket, partly to keep him from moving away from her, and partly to keep herself steady. "Oh, come on, Michael... lemme do this for you," she whined, then continued, feigning an air of elegance and composure, "...just as a friendly little ttthhank you for the wwwonderful e-ven-ing..."
"Look, Rachel, you've had a little to much to drink... Actually, you've had a lot to much to drink. And I don't want to take advantage of you, and I'm sure you don't want to do anything you'll regret in the morning."
"Allll-right," she interrupted him cheerily, as if not hearing his protests. "I'll sweeten the deal... a blowjob... AND you can do me... Come on, Mikey... doncha wanna jus' get between these legs and ssskhrew me?" she taunted as she ground her pelvis against his thigh. Even in her drunken state, she remembered her decision to wear a short dress and high heels to tease and entice her date. And she recalled catching his stolen looks at her legs, what she considered one of her best assets. Michael's ever so brief pause in finding her key was just long enough for Rachel to barrel on. "Tell ya what... how about I just start right now?"
With her back against the door keeping her from falling down, Rachel slowly slid to a squatting position. Before he could stammer a "no" or a "wait", she had unzipped his pants and was reaching in to retrieve the intended object of her gratitude. Her fingers slipped through the fly in his boxers and pulled it out.
Michael rifled through her purse, trying to find her key, and amazed that it was so hard to locate in the little bag. He still hoped to end this date as a gentleman, but for the life of him, he had no idea why. His frantic actions stopped instantly when he felt a warm wet sensation slide onto his cock.
"Oh god," he groaned as he looked down to see his dick inside his date's mouth. Her head was slowly swaying back and forth, though he couldn't tell how much was from the alcohol and how much was the blowjob.
He looked up and down the hallway, making sure that no one was watching this lurid thank-you. His hand went back into the purse for one last attempt at finding the door key - the one thing that would save him from public embarrassment, if someone should come up the stairs or out of a nearby apartment.
Rachel kept at her sucking, her perfectly coiffured head sliding forward and back as she serviced him. She was completely oblivious, and thoroughly uncaring, about Michael's fear of getting caught with her like that. In fact, it was almost as if Michael wasn't there, and Rachel was giving head, just to give head. Just sucking on some disembodied penis, that could have belonged to anyone, or to no one. In her actions, it seemed as though for her, sucking cock was a normal part of everyday life, like brushing her teeth or eating lunch. Like it was simply time for her daily blowjob.
The franticness of Michael's mind paid off, as he happened to notice a tiny zipped pocket on the side of the clutch. The tips of his fingers dipped inside and felt a small metal object. Relief came upon his face as he hastily pulled it out and inserted it into the lock. The swinging door removed Rachel's support. Her lips slipped off his cock as she pitched backward through the doorway and landed on her rump. "Oops!" she giggled as she sat there. Her legs splayed in a decidedly unladylike manner, giving her date a good view up her dress. As he stooped to help her up, his penis slipped back through his fly.
"Hey, where'd it go? That's my dick to lick. Hey, that rhymes," she said, laughing at her own joke. "Get it, Mikey? 'Dick to lick, dick to lick.'"
While Michael tried to help Rachel to her feet, his penis came back out, and she somehow ended up on her knees with her cheek gently being batted by his hard cock. "There it is," she mumbled happily. Then her lips glommed onto it again and her sucking resumed. She looked up at him, and a smile came upon her cock-filled lips. A little wink told him that she had already decided that indeed this would happen; Michael's protests be damned.
A mumbled moan from below chipped away at his will. He knew he should stop her, but it felt so good. Her hot wet mouth was giving sensations that he hadn't felt in far too long. His wife never enjoyed giving oral sex, and she was commensurately mediocre at it. But here, this sexy, sloshed slut clearly relished giving head. It was almost as if she lived for oral sex. The passion in her sucking and licking and bobbing and slurping was almost more than he could handle. His lust nearly exploded, wanting to grab her head and give her a solid, vigorous mouth fuck. Yet his self control, shredded as is was, still kept him from doing all the things his mind screamed at him to do.