The Little Bow & Arrow

There was a bow and some arrows out by the garbage in the alley when I came home from work. The bow was small, maybe two feet long, and made of some sort of pink plastic or maybe some kind of mineral; something I'd never seen before. There were three arrows in the little quiver, and they were tiny too, but perfectly straight and wickedly sharp, with exquisite little white feathers on the end. I tried the point of one against my finger and it felt like it was charged with electricity. Not an unpleasant feeling, but as I stood there holding it, it faded and disappeared from my hand, just kind of evaporated into thin air. Now there were only two arrows left.

Mrs. Bonkowski, my landlady, was coming down the stairs wearing her old ski jacket and carrying two big bags of trash, so I figured maybe she'd thrown it away.

"Hi, Mrs. Bonkowski," I said. "Are you throwing away this bow and these arrows?"

"Hold the door, Mr. Gregory, wouldja please?" she wheezed, squeezing past me. "Bow? What bow?"

"This one here," I said, holding it out to her.

She looked at my hand, then back at me. "Very funny. An invisible bow for an invisible present? What's the occasion? Valentine's Day?"

"No, I..."

I stood there holding the bow in one hand and the quiver in the other. There were again three arrows in the quiver. There had been three arrows there when I'd first picked it up, and one had disappeared in my hands. How could there still be three arrows in the quiver?

"You want to give me your check now, while I'm here?" she asked me. "It's almost the fifteenth."

"Er... I just put my last check in the bank today. If you could just wait till it clears..."

She shook her head ruefully and I turned and started up the stairs, then turned again.

"Mrs. Bonkowski?" I asked, "You really don't see a bow and arrows in my hand?"

She just grunted—her form of a sardonic laugh—and continued out towards the alley. "No," she said, "And no check neither."

Instead of going up to my apartment, I walked out to the front of the building, still holding the bow and arrows. A man with a briefcase was hurrying past, bundled up against the cold.

"Excuse me," I said, hurrying after him. "Excuse me, but could you please tell me what I have in my hands?" I held the bow and arrows out for him to see.

He gave me a quick, worried look but didn't slow down.

"Your brains, I'd say." he said, hurrying past. "Asshole!"

It was tail end of the rush hour and there were still a lot of people outside for such a nasty, sleety day, coming home from work, hurrying to get inside. If any of them thought that a man standing out on the sidewalk holding a tiny pink bow and arrows in his hands was worth a look, they didn't show it.

Now, I know about Valentine's Day, and I've seen enough Twilight Zones to know when to expect to hear Rod Serling's voice-over come in and explain things. I mean, I've gone through life waiting for something like this to happen to me, to be touched by something magical.

I took out one of the tiny arrows and fit it to the tiny bowstring. I felt foolish, like a perfect little priss, but I pulled back on the arrow—the bow only drew like eighteen inches—held it in my fingertips with my pinkies out, aimed it at a tree, and let it fly.

Nothing happened.

The bow was bent, the string stretched tight and I could feel the tension in my hands, but the arrow didn't move.

I shook it, then hit it with the side of my hand, but nothing happened. It was jammed somehow.

A woman was walking by. I'd noticed her a few times around the neighborhood but had never spoken to her. She was nicely dressed, attractive really, though she had a kind of hard urban edge to her. She had short black hair and big gray eyes and she glanced over at me in that wary city-dweller way, trying to gauge if I posed an immanent threat or not, and in that moment I caught her eye. I lifted up the bow to show her and was about to speak when it suddenly went off in my hand.

The arrow shot from the bow and hit her, right in the left boob. Hit her and disappeared, like it had pierced right through her

"Oh my God! Miss! I'm so sorry! My God! Oh my God! Are you okay?" I ran over to her. The bow was still twanging in my hand. It felt alive, like it was shaking with laughter

She stopped, turned, and gave me the most delightfully goofy smile. "Why, that's very sweet of you to ask," she drawled. "Yes, I'm fine. In fact, I feel wonderful."

She looked away as if disoriented for a moment, and then looked at me as if she'd just noticed I was there. A wide and lovely smile spread on her face and she said, " My name's Gina Mackay. I'm twenty-nine, a Lutheran, though I only go to church on Christmas and Easter. I don't smoke. I drink occasionally. I'm a lawyer and work for Bird, Bird, Root, and Bitters downtown. I like vintage rock, jazz, some rap (if it's not too misogynistic), and gourmet cooking. I have a passion for wine and I'm into antiques. I'm not sure how I feel about having children, but I definitely want to continue working after I marry."

I just stood there with my mouth open, so she added, "Do you live around here?" She sidled closer to me, cocked her head and gave me that broad, flirty smile. She even seemed to bat her eyelashes. Do women still bat their eyelashes?

I was speechless, still expecting her to keel over on the sidewalk any second, and before I could think of anything to say she took my arm and said, "I don't believe in traditional gender roles in dating, do you? My place is just down the block. Why don't you come on up and we can talk there?"

It must be shock, I thought. Any second now the blood would start dripping onto the sidewalk, she'd go pale and collapse. I had to call 911 right away. I looked carefully at her face, looking for some sign of the coming crisis. Her pupils were dilated like saucers.

"Oh come on," she said. She took my arm and pressed it against her breasts and started pulling me down the street. "Let's get inside where it's warm."

"Sometimes my memory's just like a sieve," she said brightly. "Can you believe that I've forgotten your name?"

"I'm Andy Gregory," I said, grateful for a question I could answer. Then I pulled up short. I turned and faced her.

"Wait a minute," I said. "You sure you're okay? You didn't feel anything hit you just before? My bow went off and I hit you with an arrow. I mean, I saw it hit you."

She laughed, a rich, alto laugh. "Oh yes, I felt something," she said with a knowing look. "I most definitely felt something. And you did too, didn't you? Something I want to feel again. And again and again..."

As she said this she crowded up against me again so that our bodies touched. Her gloved hand went down and boldly pressed against my cock. She looked into my eyes and opened her mouth, running her tongue over her teeth. Then she made a kissy mouth at me. A kissy mouth!

I was stunned. Dopified. I looked at the bow and arrows in my hand. There were still three arrows in the quiver.

"Okay, wait. Wait," I said. "There's something weird going on here. Something weird."

"I know," she said, almost pulling me down the street. "I feel it too. Like magic. Come on, we can talk about it upstairs."

She kept on talking as she led me down the street, peppering me with questions about myself, and whatever I answered, she reacted with transports of joy.

"So you're a bartender! God, that is sooo

exciting!

" she gushed. "I really, really admire bartenders. Where would we be without them? Who would tend all the bars? I've always thought it must take a very special kind of man to stand there all night and serve people alcohol. And you know what they say about bartenders and lawyers..." She gave me a playful nudge, raised an eyebrow, and made a suggestive growling noise in her throat.

By now I'd almost forgotten the bow and arrow. I held them in one hand and gave Gina my other arm. She clung to it and kept it pressed against her breasts, leaning around to look into my face as we walked along briskly now, hanging on my every word, of which there were few, since I was still totally confused by what was happening.

Her building was just down the block. It was a lot nicer than mine, as was her apartment: big and airy, crammed with plants and expensive antiques, and with a great view of the park. You could just see my little coach house squatting there below at the foot of her building. I'd never seen my roof before. There was a mysterious athletic shoe lying on the roof. I knew that shoe. It had disappeared with my last girl friend months and months ago. I had no idea she had that kind of an arm.

"Mi casa, su casa," Gina said joyously, spreading her arms and tossing her briefcase aside. She threw her coat onto a chair and I got a chance to have a look at her. Despite her power suit, she had all the right curves, and someone at work should have told her that her severely cut suit only made her look more feminine.

"Now why don't you show me why you brought me up here," she said, putting her arms around my neck.

"But I didn't bring you up here," I said. "This is your place!"

"Oh you crazy bartenders..."

She kissed me: hot, passionate, and insistent; her little tongue pushing at my lips while she pulled me to her with surprising strength. But what really took my breath away was what her hips were doing. A second or two into the kiss she started grinding against me with a shocking degree of expertise you would never have expected just from looking at her. She didn't look like the kind of girl who had that much heat in her or one who could move with such sinuous virtuosity.

"Talk to me, Andy," she breathed as she broke the kiss and ran her lips along my jaw line. She took my hand and put it on her boob. "Tell me everything you're going to do to me. Tell me all the nasty things I make you think about doing. Shock me. Make me blush."

I surreptitiously felt her for signs of that little arrow, but it wasn't there. She was warm and both soft and firm in my hand, as only a woman's breast can be.

Look. I'm only a man, and a horny man at that. I don't know what you think you know about bartenders, but believe me, it isn't like that, not at all, and I hadn't been with a woman since my breakup with the athletic shoe pitcher; an awfully long time. Besides, there was something about Gina. She had looked so severe and formidable when I'd seen her outside, but now she was acting like a perfectly shameless whore, and it was exciting the hell out of me to see the blush of raw lust on her face

"Well, uh, geez. I don't know," I said. It was pretty lame as far as love-talk went, but she'd caught me totally by surprise.

"Oh God, you get me hot when you talk like that!" she moaned, opening her mouth and trying to bite my chest.

I stood there stupidly as she dragged her mouth down my body, slid to her knees in front of me, raised her hands and ran her nails down the front of my thighs. She brought a hand around and cupped my package as if feeling its weight, her eyes boring into mine. She wanted to see the look in my eyes.

"I'm only an associate junior legal partner," she said in a dark and smoky voice. "But tonight this associate junior legal partner wants to be your love slave. Use me, Andy. Use me for your selfish pleasure!"

Her fingers went to my zipper and I stood there frozen in absolute horror as she opened my fly and fished inside with her cool hand. She found my cock and pulled it out with a hiss of feline pleasure. Okay, so I wasn't frozen in absolute horror. But I did just stand there.

Gina stared at the head of my cock with rapt devotion, holding it with one hand. She looked up at me again and said, "May I? Oh say yes, darling, please. I have to. I can't help myself..."

My eyes went wide as she took the head of my burgeoning cock and rubbed it around her open lips. I was throbbing in her hand, growing bigger with each throb, and if I had any doubts about this, old Andy junior didn't. He had heard the clarion call of sex and was already starting to weep with excitement, a fact not lost on Gina. She gave the head of my tool a big, wet kiss, then slowly drew her head back, pulling the viscous fluid out in long strands that broke and fell lewdly against her lower lip, from where she quickly lapped them up with an eager tongue. She was giving me a show.

"Look, Gina..." I figured I owed her at least one more try at explaining things, but she was having none of it. She had already opened her mouth, closed her eyes, and extended her tiny pink tongue in obeisance towards the thuggish-looking head of my cock, and when she touched me, I could feel her tongue trembling with excitement and I was lost.

I was still holding the bow and arrows. I dropped them now as the wet heat of her mouth enveloped me, and they fell to the carpet without a sound. She moaned hungrily around my shaft as her tongue moved against me. My legs got weak.

"Oh fuck, Gina!" I said as I exhaled heavily. "Suck it! Take it all!"

She stood up on her knees and dug her nails into my ass to pull me deep into her mouth, sucking me hard, groaning and babbling in her throat, the hot breath from her nostrils fanning my pubic hair. I grabbed a hold of her black curls and held on as she bobbed her head and swirled her tongue, holding me with one hand on my ass while the other toyed with my heavy balls. Her mouth was deep and hot and I could feel her urgency. She really wanted to suck the cream out of me. She wasn't just doing this for my benefit. She really wanted it, and the thought of any woman so hot for my come made me dizzy with lust.

"No, wait! Wait!" I gasped, pulling my prick from her mouth and staggering back.

She crawled after me, wrapped her arms around my legs and started biting my thighs like an animal while she took my cock in her hand and started masturbating me, all the while muttering, "I've never felt this way before, darling. Never. Never needed anyone like this. Andy, please. Please Andy, do it. Fuck me, baby, fuck your little whore!"

I'm ashamed to say that her performance brought out a raging male beast in me. It's very politically incorrect, but seeing her groveling like that made me feel like superman, like my cock was a yard long and my balls were two garbage bags filled with dynamite. I reached down and actually picked her up bodily off the floor, picked her up in the classic newly-wed carry and took her into the bedroom. She squealed with delight and pulled my face to hers, kissing and biting my lips. I was so filled with testosterone that she felt like she weighed nothing in my arms, like she was filled with straw

I no sooner dropped her on the bed then she started clawing at her clothes, ripping them open and shamelessly caressing herself. She ripped open her very nice silk blouse and began mauling her breasts, then abandoned that to lift her ass off the bed, hike up her skirt and jam her hands between her legs, all the while writhing in impatience as I fumbled with the buttons of my clothes and kicked off my shoes and socks.

She skinned off her panties and spread her legs. She looked right into my eyes to make sure she had my attention and then she began to masturbate, her fingers moving in expert little circles with the familiarity of long practice. She wasn't doing this for the first time, but still, I could tell from the way she did it that she was letting me see her at her most embarrassingly intimate, letting me see all her female hunger, and it brought the blood pounding to my head. She was showing me that there was nothing she wouldn't do for me, nothing she wouldn't let me see.

"So you like that, Andy," she gasped. "Do you like seeing what you do to me, what you reduce me to? Does it feel good to know how much I want you? That I'll play the whore for you?"

She stopped her play when I approached the bed and she swung herself around and lunged for my cock, holding herself up in a push-up position as she twisted and rotated her head around like a terrier with a rat. I had to pull her off and throw her back down on the bed so I could climb on, and as soon as I was on my back she was over me, her clothes a total mess, half on, half off, her face clouded with urgent lust.

She certainly wasn't shy. She leaped on me, straddled me, got my cock out of my shorts and stood over me on one knee with her other foot on the mattress. She spread herself open with one hand while she guided me to the right spot, then she plunged right down on me with a kind of sexual impatience that made me fear for myself. For all her excitement, everything had happened so quickly that she was far from being as wet as she needed to be, and she uttered a cry of real pain mixed with a snarl of pure wildcat lust as she impaled herself on my cock.

She knelt over me, her head hanging down, her back heaving as she gasped for air, totally conquered by her need to have me inside her. I felt her squeezing me inside, trying me on for fit, or maybe they were just reflexive spasms of her violated body trying to adjust to this strange invader, but in any case she had no intention of letting a little discomfort get in her way. After no more than a few ragged breaths she began to fuck me, lifting her ass up and then dropping back down, screwing her hips around with the muscles of her tight little belly.

"Give me your hand," she gasped, and when I did, she brought it to her mouth. She licked my fingers, then sucked them into her mouth. She took my hand and tried to push it down her throat, taking three fingers into her mouth and fucking her face with them, past the gagging point, so that my fingertips slid over the very back of her tongue.

It was one of the most incredibly displays of erotic abandon I've ever felt. She pushed my fingertips down past her epiglottis into the soft wetness of her throat and I felt her spasm as she tried not to gag. My prick jerked violently inside her, threatening to blow right then and there.

But she quickly pulled my hand back out and put it on her breast. She pressed my hand against her and made me pinch her nipple, then pulled me down to her crotch where our bodies were joined in a swamp of warm wetness.

"Play with my clit, darling," she hissed. "Play with my clit and make me come on your big cock. Make your baby come for you. I'm already close..."

She held my hand against her and showed me how to move my fingers, and she was right: she was close. She dropped forward and kissed me deeply, then pulled her face back and stared into my eyes with a look that gave me chills, her pupils hot and dilated and showing the sexual fire within. I saw her eyes lose focus and suddenly glaze over.

"Coming... she whispered, and then she caught her breath and her entire body started convulsing in massive spasms of release. They started at her hips and then worked their way up her body till finally her shoulders were heaving as her body cracked like a whip under the lashing of her violent sexual pleasure.

The sight was too much for me, and my own release came bubbling up from the soles of my feet with the ineluctable force of a runaway freight train. I slammed my hips up into her quivering cunt and began to fountain inside her with roaring jets of my own massive release, each shot punctuated by a thunder ball of pure sexual bliss. I clawed at her thighs and filled her caldera with rivers of molten lust.

She fell across me as I continued to erupt, both of us soaked with sweat, and she covered my chest with hot little kisses of thanks and appreciation which slowed and finally stopped altogether. I slowly became aware of the fact that she had fallen asleep on top of me, my deflated cock still inside her.

I pulled out of her carefully, so as not to wake her up, but she was out cold.

I got out of bed and walked naked into the living room.