Finding Michael

We all have secrets; they exist, like broken shards of a mirror carelessly strewn on the dusty road of life as we walk along it. Some of these pieces are buried deep in the dirt, while others are easily visible to those who know where to look.

We all have secrets, and we all hope that come nightfall, they do not sparkle in the moonlight and attract the creatures that dwell in the shadows.

Michael "Mike" Wallerby was a man of many secrets.

He lay on his back on the floor of his bedroom. A sheet carelessly thrown over his naked body. He refused to open his eyes. He refused to look at all the little trinkets of his successful life that surrounded him. The rich color of his hardwood floors. The expensive ming vase that stood in a corner to complement his rustic furniture. His bed, with its fine silk sheets.

The silk sheets had annoyed him last night. It would all be gone soon, he dreaded. He regarded the events that had transpired the day before. Why was this happening to him?

"stupid son of a ..."

"open the fucking door mike!" came the an annoyed voice over the angry banging on the front door of his apartment. The pounding he had heard wasn't his own heart beat after all! How long had she been out there?

with an annoyed grunt he launched himself to his feet and padded over to the door, wrapping the sheets around him and bunching it up at the front to hide his morning erection. He had come to expect these early morning visits.

"I'm coming already! quiet down!"

No sooner had he unlocked his door did a rampaging mass of perfume, brown hair and suit burst inside.

"Good morning to you too, Hanna"

"fuck you!"

Despite himself, Mike couldn't help smiling. He watched as she continued her angry strut into the kitchen and started rummaging through the shelves. He shut the door behind him, then quietly walked towards the kitchen counter.

"I thought you were fucking dead Michael!"

"Sorry, I had a rough night"

She turned on my coffee maker, and walked around the counter to the living area. Her eyes widened.

"What the hell happened here?"

Mike looked around, and found himself looking at a room that looked as though Hurricane Katrina had stopped by for a visit. The couch pillows were everywhere except on the couch. His coffee table was upturned, one leg carelessly lying three feet away. He instinctively tried to come up with a suitable excuse, but stopped himself. What was the point? He shrugged.

"fuck! You should get some professional help!". There was a hint of irony there. She was, after all, a "professional" of the sort he apparently needed.

Hannah was a psychologist. She used to be a licensed therapist, but quickly grew tired of the "fucking crazies" and decided to put her talents to "better use". After a few months of research, she convinced a young executive at a new up and coming marketing company that "psychological marketing" was the way to go. It didn't take long for her to prove her point, and subsequently claw her way up to the top. That was nearly ten years ago.

Ten years, Mike thought to himself as he remembered her interview. It felt more like two. Hanna was saying something.

"...anyway, we need you down at the office today. There's a new client coming in and we need you to sit in and pretend to be interested. We can make a ton of money off of these people so don't give me any crap about this"

He wrinkled his nose. Going in to work was the last thing he wanted to do today. "If I must.It's Not like I have anything else to do"

She gave him a quizzical look, and quickly analyzed everything she saw. Not the average gloom, she decided. This was something else, but then again, he had always been a little eccentric. She dismissed it with an exaggerated shrug, subconsciously mimicking him. Whatever was going on in his head, she knew better than to ask. If it concerned her at all, he would tell her. He always did.

"So get this right.

Will and I were supposed to go away this weekend, but guess what the MOFO told me first thing this morning?"

"he cancelled?" he humored.

"That's right he fucking cancelled! right out of bed, the first words out of his mouth. Not even a 'Hello sunshine', fuck you very much..." Hanna let out a loud sigh. "He said he wanted to catch the game on Saturday or some bullshit like that."

good 'ol Will...

"I'm so fucking pissed!". She stared at a random spot on the floor about six feet away, absently shaking her head. A few seconds passed in silence, then she looked back at him. As she drew in a deep breath, Mike could feel the mood in the room change; It was as though somebody had pushed a switch.

Here we go, he thought.

Hanna casually walked over to Mike and tugged off the sheet that covered his now somewhat less enthusiastic nakedness. He allowed his amusement show with a little smile, and thoughtlessly let the sheet drop to the floor. This was all too normal now. How many times had they done this? It was nearly as routine as drinking the coffee that was just starting to brew.

He tensed slightly as she reached out and gently stroked him, and then relaxed as she drew closer to him and rested her head on his chest. He reached up and ran his hand down the length of her hair, then kissed her lightly on the forehead. He breathed in heavily. The perfume she wore was a last minute gift he had bought her for her birthday four months ago. She responded by reaching up and kissing him lightly on the neck.

He felt himself stir as she worked her fingers in a slow rhythm. As he got more aroused, she changed her grip and began stroking with more purpose. He let out a soft moan, and ran his arm down her back towards the gentle curve of her behind. He playfully tugged at her skirt, as if trying to pull it up around her hips.

She knew how to push his buttons, he mused. Not more than a minute ago he wanted nothing more than to shut the world away and slip into some empty little void, but here he was now, ready to play her silly games.

She pulled away from him and reached under her tight fitting skirt to pull down the blue, silk panties she wore underneath. She always wore silk. She said it made her feel sexy. Mike watched as she turned around and bent over on the counter with her elbows resting lightly on the marble.

He reached over and ran his palm over her, then found the tiny zipper on the side that would allow him to lift her skirt up. He dropped to his knees as he did so, and with casual familiarity worked his tongue along the way he knew she liked. It didn't take long before his saliva met with her own secretions.

"I'm ready" she said.

He rose and positioned himself to enter her. As he did so, he felt her relax and push back against him, then arch her back ever so slightly to make sure that every stroke would find the right spot. As he moved in and out of her, he firmly grabbed her hips and dug his fingers into her soft flesh.

They established a rhythm, and soon she was reaching between her own legs to hasten her impending orgasm while he fought to hold back his own. He thrust deeper. As he felt her grip him more tightly, he lost control of his own movements. He rocked her against the counter with more force than he intended. His thrusting became more erratic. She tensed under him, and quivered as the orgasm ran through her body. He let himself go, and was immediately rewarded with his own.

She waited for him to catch his breath, then lightly pushed him away.

"What the fuck was that?" she asked, as she straightened and walked around the counter again.

"What was what?"

"bit rough don't you think?" she massaged the spot where he had gripped her.

"Sorry, I guess I needed to blow off some steam or something"

"I wasn't complaining" she said curtly. "well you can tell me about it later. Go clean up, we leave in twenty". She reached for the cotton dish-cloth that was lying near the sink.

"please don't...! "

too late! He watched, annoyed, as she wiped off his ejaculate from between her thighs.

"I use that to wipe my plates you know? plates I use to eat?"

"Get over it" she replied, and casually flung the rag into the garbage. "problem solved… now go before I fucking blow a gasket". She zipped up, and set about pouring coffee into two disposable containers.

Mike left her, and groveled all the way to his bathroom. Along the way he stopped to look at himself in the mirror. He regarded himself for a bit. He wasn't exactly young, but he still exerted a certain youthful vitality. What had he been thinking? He had never been the sort of man to give up too easily, and yet, this morning he had. He looked at himself with disgust. With a start, he made up his mind, found his cell phone and dialed.

"it's Mike Wallerby" He told the speaker on the other end. "I need your help with a little... problem"

"I can fit you in at three this afternoon. Stop by the office?"

"Three is good" He replied "...see you then", and hung up. There, the wheels were in motion. He gave himself one more look in the mirror and then proceeded to take a shower and get dressed.