When I woke up she was gone, with only the mussed bed and an old-sex smell to say she'd been at all. I lay there for some time, just thinking. Had I helped her? For all that half our time together seemed to be spent fighting, I did want her to be happy. I guess I really did love her. We just couldn't stand each other for more than a few hours at a time.
I got up, showered, dressed, cooked breakfast, ate, and lay on the couch. I was trying to put her out of my mind - a problem I couldn't solve - but I couldn't manage it. As I went about my mindless morning routines I was seeing them as she would see them, and it didn't paint a pretty picture.
I'd lived in this apartment for eight years, ever since I left high school. Given my reluctance to do housework, you could well say that it was a dump: half-fixed electronics on the table, burnt build-up half an inch thick on the stove in the kitchen, peeling wallpaper. I groaned and rubbed my face. Now that I'd seen all this with fresh eyes, I knew sooner or later I'd clean up. I hated my brain.
Shoving all that aside, I went into my study and sat down. Here, at least, the chaos was necessary. I turned my computer on and began to paw through my notes on the latest project. Within moments I was lost, fingers clacking mechanically, symbols spooling out on the screen. Freelance programming was a good occupation for me – logic being they keystone of my universe – if not always for my health. I kept myself in reasonable shape most of the time, but when the rainy winter kicked in and I was spending eighteen hour shifts at the computer with a cold pizza and a bottle of wine, I tended to run to fat.
Did she think I was fat? Ugly certainly, she'd said as much in arguments before...
I came to with a start, realising I had just been staring at the screen for more than a minute. It wasn't even midday yet.
"Dammit!" I said out loud to myself. "Get back to work, think later."
I got back to work.
*
It was two nights later, long enough to catch me unready, when the next knock came at my door. I turned the TV off with the remote and stood, brushing myself down, straightening my clothes and hating myself for it. I opened the door. It was her.
"Hi," she said, smiling. Her hair was held back in a neat pony tail, her fine form blanketed by her long black coat. She was somehow more gorgeous than I'd remembered.
"Hi. Come in."
I ushered her in again, looking appreciatively as she took off her coat, revealing tight black jeans and a dark collared shirt. She kicked off her shoes.
"I brought a movie," she said, drawing a DVD case out of one of her coat pockets.
"I hate movies."
"I know," she said, breezing into the lounge room. "But this one is really really good.
"Bride of Honour," I read from the front of the case she carried. "Sounds horrific."
"I knew you'd say that." She slid the disk into my DVD player and turned back to me. "I came prepared."
She undid her fly and let her jeans fall to the floor. She wasn't wearing panties, the black denim revealing only creamy skin as it fell, and a wide, neat V of orange pubic hair. She stepped out of the jeans and quickly undid her shirt, casting it and her bra to the floor as well.
"Well, hurry up," she teased impatiently. I dropped my shorts and underwear, and when I had pulled off my shirt, Lana gestured for me to throw it to her. I did, and she laid it out on the couch.
"Sit down," she said, and I sat on the shirt, Lana lying with her head on my thigh, wisps of hair tickling my thighs and balls, making my cock harden. She picked up the remote and pressed play.
"Watch." She commanded.
So I looked up at the screen as her hot, wet mouth closed over my cock. I was watching the images, but not registering them as I revelled in the feel of Lana's mouth. God, her lips, tongue, even teeth. She took all the length of my shaft that she could for a moment, then pulled off, the room's air a chilly shock after her warmth. She rested fingertips under my balls, gently tickling them now as she began to lick up and down the length of my member. With the tip of her tongue she played with my foreskin, pressing down through it to touch my sensitive flesh.
