Mine 82

I hope this was worth the wait. It is one that I kept coming back to and wanted to make sure it was to my liking. Please comment and let me know what you think!

**Warning: This story consists of unfaithfulness and touches on the topic of suicide. If you do not like either of these themes, I would suggest reading one of my other stories.

XOXO SkylerLuv

******

I know I'm dreaming.

My father is watching T.V on his favorite seat in the house. He has a small blanket over his legs, the way he usually did when he intended to stay in his seat all day. His hair does not have one strand of gray hair and his smile is as bright as I remember. If this wasn't a dream, he would be older, probably have more wrinkles around his smile, and definitely more gray hairs.

I hear mom humming in the kitchen. My guess is she's preparing dinner by the slanted sunlight coming into the living room. I'm on the loveseat watching T.V but really watching my dad. This is going to hurt when I wake up. I know it will. It always does. I wish my mom would come out so that I can see her face but it has been a while since I've seen her in my dreams. The announcer catches my attention and my dad's favorite team gets a touchdown. He cheers, gets off from the couch and just as he is about to turn to me, I'm jolted awake.

Fresh tears roll down my cheeks.

******

There has been a gray cloud hanging over my head all day.

I try not to think about them as I drive back to the hotel. I would think that after all of these years I would have figured out how to cope with the empty feeling in my chest. Instead I try to fill it with alcohol, random one-night stands, and until recently smoking. Eventually I realized it is not just an empty feeling, it is a void. No matter how much I throw in there I never feel full. Never feel like I even make any real progress. Which is why I just keep doing it anyways to get at least one second of happiness, or fake happiness. It is either that or just allow the abysmal hole to take over my whole body.

Therapy helped some but I haven't been to a session since I graduated college a couple of years ago. Talking about the dead doesn't help me get over it the way I want to. Carrie, my therapist, explained that until I learn to create meaningful relationships with the girls I hook up with, I will get nowhere. Vulnerability has never been my forte.

Allowing myself to open up to people and have them decide that I am worth their time or vice versa is too much for me. So instead I stopped going to therapy and started looking for other ways to keep my mind off my parent's death and ultimately being alone.

I don't realize until I'm at the bar across from the hotel until someone sits next to me. This happens sometimes. I get lost in my thoughts and just go through the motions. I've been on autopilot. I'm ready to drink the rest of the night away and sleep it off. Hopefully no more painful dreams. And no more thinking about Carrie. I don't want to go back there.

"Are you here alone?" There is a nervous tilt in her voice. The stranger who decided to sit next to me.

It does something to my insides. I'm a sucker for the damsels. Although she has to be brave to start up a conversation with me. Even the guy I had the business meeting with earlier avoided small talk if he could help it. It's very hard for me to hide annoyance, anger, or pretty much any emotion from my face if I'm feeling it. She has to want more than chat is she's talking to me.

I turn to look at her and smile.

I guess she will do. A night wrapped up with her should help me get over this feeling for tonight at least.

******

She's a crazy one.

Her thick, brown hair falls down her back like a cascade of melted chocolate. It is shiny and layered. Her shoulder blades peak through the strands with every move she makes. She's begging for my touch. Her skin is kissed by the sun, warm and inviting. She could pass for Italian or Hispanic. She has a dancer's body, ballet if I remember correctly. I don't usually do dancers. They are too skinny, never around, always obsessing about their weight. But tonight, anyone will work. I just need to scratch the itch.

Comparing myself to her I notice my skin is lighter to hers. I am fair like my mom was. My hair is darker and my eyes are brown like my dad. I shake my head to move past the hurdle of their memory.

The way she rolls her hips back and forth just out of my reach makes me hang on to the bed frame. It is a welcomed distraction. I want to toss her on her back. Show her who is really in charge here but I let her have her moment to shine. It won't be long though. I always have control.

She turns her head to look at me and I'm stunned for a second too long. Her piercing blue eyes grip at my soul and I clench my teeth together. Her eyebrows are dark, a nice contrast from her crystal blue eyes. They're perfectly plucked and settle just an inch higher on her forehead when she sees how unsettled I am. She finds this amusing. Her smile starts to form, as if I needed another indication that she thinks my reaction is funny. I pounce with agility that surprises her. With her body under mine in the blink of an eye, she squeals and tries to buck me off her. I grab both of her wrists and push them up so they are inches from the wooden headboard. All hotels have nice thick bed frames that makes my job easier.

I pull her up effortlessly. Being 5'9 and lean makes it easier to do this to her. She's probably a couple of inches shorter but definitely much smaller. The things I can do with a flexible dancer. My mouth waters.

"Hang on to this," I wrap her fingers around the thick wood. "Don't let go or you won't get to cum."

I see the defiance in her eyes. I almost pull the plug. I don't like defiance in the bedroom. Girls think it's cute and sometimes I play along but I am not in the mood for that tonight. I need her full submission. By the way her body keeps moving under mine I can tell she has probably not done this before. A stab of regret hits my gut when she opens her mouth. I don't want this to end before it even starts. This is the only thing I got going for me tonight. If this falls apart it will be the cherry on top of the awful day I had.

My hand wraps around her neck and I give a small squeeze as a warning.

"Shhh," I run my puckered lips against her own. My hand trails up her neck and lands on her cheeks. "I don't want to hear anything come out of those fuckable lips of yours unless I ask you a direct question."

She pouts and my head tilts to the side. She's a spoiled brat. I usually don't do those either. So demanding, thinking they don't have to do as they're told simply because they're too pretty or have money. I noticed her expensive bag and high-end shoes back at the bar. She even smells expensive. Maybe this won't work. If she doesn't listen to me, I can't do it.

I sit back and cross my arms. "If you can't follow my rules this won't work." It is only for one night, I want to add. She doesn't know that. Deep down I hope she can understand why. I mean we didn't even exchange names back at the bar. I'm only in town for business. I don't imagine I'll ever see her again.

She nods eagerly and bites her lips.

I look at the clock on the nightstand. I'm just going to make her cum and then make some excuse up about work and ask her to leave. I have already wasted too much time trying to explain how I want this to go. I don't even want anything out of it anymore. Well, anything but getting a second to control her. Just once.

I shuffle down her body not touching any part of her with my hands. Her back arches as my mouth hovers inches from her skin. Her breasts are tempting. The caramel nipples have my salivating. But I won't give in. I move further down until I reach my preferred destination.

I lay on my stomach and stare at her bare pussy. Her juices are already seeping into her ass and the sheets. I guess control is as much of a turn on to her as it is to me. I spread her legs apart and bend them at the knee. I look up to see her looking down at me. Her cheeks are flushed and her breathing speeds up when we make eye contact. She is beautiful. She's probably also very flexible. Too bad I will never find out.

I dive in without warning. My tongue laps at her soaking hole, she tastes divine. Her smell is very telling and I close my eyes and groan.

"Oh." She whimpers.

I snap my eyes open. Oh, what I wouldn't do for a gag right now. How long would it take me to train her to be a good submissive? I flatten my tongue and lick from the very bottom of her seeping hole to her throbbing clit. I repeat that motion a handful of times and then focus solely on her clit. Shouldn't be much longer now. I assault the swollen pebble and feel her body respond the way I intend it to. I continue to lick waiting for the moment when she starts to shake but it doesn't come.

"Cum for me." I murmur against her slick lips. She doesn't respond.

My eyes trail up her body. Her hips dip up and down, pressing my face closer and moving further away. Her soft stomach flexes with each swipe of my tongue. Her breasts press into the cool air of the hotel room. Then my eyes land on hers. I'm caught in them again. And again, I see the defiance burning in them. My tongue stops and I swallow the juices in my mouth. Why would she invite me back here if she is just going to do the exact opposite of what I want her to do?

"You're going to cum." Maybe she needs to be told what I want her to do.

"Make me." I can see her fighting against the current. She wants to go under but is denying herself and me the pleasure. Just to spite me she is holding off.

I feel the blood rush to my cheeks. This was a big mistake.

******

[6 months later]

"You never got over it did you?" Renee puts her beer down.

I stare at her curly, red hair, avoiding her inquiring brown eyes. Renee sometimes knows me better than I want to let on. Renee was the first friend I made when I moved here. She took me under her wing at work and she is the only one who knows personal things about me. Like my parents dying in an accident when I was a teen. Living with my aunt throughout high school. Knowing I was a lesbian from the get-go, not telling my aunt. Before Renee I had Lana.

We still talk on the phone sometimes but Lana likes the small-town life. She got married to her high school sweetheart as soon as we graduated. She has three kids now. I've met the eldest two once. I don't know what else to talk about besides her kids and I don't think she approves of my lifestyle. Not the gay part, just the sleeping around part.

Renee doesn't judge. She has her fair share of one-night stands and never makes me feel like I'm being judged. We have a similar taste in girls but never had one come between us. She is an open book. Anything I want to know she'll tell me. I also know she would never say anything concerning me to anyone. Her loyalty is what has brought us together since I started working here. Who would have guessed my third-year anniversary would catch up to me so soon?

She's right though. I am thinking about the ballerina. Her annoying tendency to pop into my brain at the most inconvenient times.

"I've never had a girl deny me."

"Here we go again." Renee sighs under her breath.

I lean over the table and look around us. The bar is quiet tonight. It's a work week and those who are here are probably leaving soon. Renee offered to buy the first round after work and I will never turn down alcohol. It is also convenient that the bar is across the street from our work building. And Renee has a thing for the bartender so this is our spot. No matter how many times she tries and flirts with her, the bartender skillfully evades any actual flirtation and keeps it professional. It drives Renee crazy.

"Did she really deny you though? You got her to sleep with you." She's picking at the label on her beer. "It's been months, get over it."

I bounce my leg up and down. I want to bite my nails but I'm also kicking the habit. If I can quit smoking, I can quit biting my nails. This month is as good as any to start treating my body with a little more care.

"And you've made many girls after that cum." She reminds me. "Me being one of them."

I look away. In a moment of weakness, I caved and slept with Renee. The fact that we work together is the main reason I never crossed that line but I am already looking for a new job and after drinking a whole bottle of tequila, nothing good could have come out of that. It was great, I wasn't controlling in the way that I wanted to me but it was fun. It hasn't affected our friendship the way I thought it might and I thank Renee's easy-going nature for that.

"Okay, I'm sorry let's talk about something else."

She finishes her beer. "We can talk about who you got for your next assignment."

I groan. "Don't remind me." I wasn't even supposed to be assigned to this interview but my guess is someone has it out for me. That or it is a blessing in disguise. James Lauren is a multimillionaire who has his stake in almost every type of business imaginable. I've never met him but I've heard stories about him and I would rather not be around him or his money. Then again, he has a lot of influence in the business world and getting to pick his mind might not be so bad.

"Just make it a quick interview and get it over with." She clears her throat. Unlike me, Renee is still sticking to her smoking habit. She's happy I don't ask to bum a smoke twice a day. This job makes it really hard to kick bad habits and if you don't have any bad ones soon enough you will. I can definitely say I drink a lot more than when I first started here.

"Did I forget to mention this is not a one-time thing? They want me to do multiple interviews with him. Something about getting him to warm up to me so that I can build a close relationship and get some good stuff at the end."

She snickers. "You can't catch a break, can you?"

I gulp down the last of my beer and motion to the bartender for the check. Renee winks at her but she just rolls her eyes and smiles.

"Let's just say I hope this is my last assignment at this fucking place."

******

My blue blazer and matching slacks give me the professional angle I'm going for. I opt for a black bra under my white blouse to take attention away from my peaking tattoos around my wrist. Usually our magazine runs articles focused on startup businesses and their young, aspiring, and 'totally laidback' CEOs. Hence, my tattoos are never a problem and wearing jeans to work is a no brainer. This month though we are focusing on 'self-made' millionaires on the older side. So far, I've learned that most of them have had generous loans from their parents or grandparents or have had friends with loaded parents. I've yet to meet an actual 'started from the bottom now they're here' candidate.

I sit up straight and wait for the man of the hour to come through the double doors. His study is what I imagined a person of his stature to have. Fancy paintings, useless statues, untouched books, and a great big wooden desk next to a fireplace. Everything is placed just perfectly and though a lot of things probably go untouched for days there is not a speck of dust anywhere.

The view to his front lawn is spectacular, as if seeing it from the driveway isn't enough. His grass is impressively green, his fountain clean, and the rose bushes on each side of his house well taken care of. I was not surprised to be greeted by a maid and escorted to this room by a butler. I almost want to hold my nose by the stench of wealth around me.

"Sorry for the wait." A deep voice says behind me.

I stand straight and turn to greet him. My smile falters when I actually see him. His eyes are a striking light blue. I feel my jaw drop at the feeling in my gut. He is handsome for an older man. His grip is warm, almost as much as his smile. Much friendlier than I anticipated. But I can't stop staring into his eyes. Men have never been appealing to me. From a younger age I always preferred the quiet shy girls. He is the complete opposite. I shake my head, trying to ignore the conflicting emotions.

"Thank you for this meeting, Mr. Lauren." I fix my composure.

"Please, call me James. And have a seat." The warm smile makes it sound like a suggestion.

We exchange a couple of words about the weather, local news, and finally the reason why I am here. All this time I can't help but feel like I have met him before. Maybe I've seen pictures of him through my social media feed. His eyes are very familiar.

"Well, let's get down to it." He stares down at his golden watch and clicks his tongue. "We have thirty minutes."

I take my tape recorder and notepad out. 'Thirty minutes?' I want to ask but I bite my tongue. Maybe this is why we're doing these multiple interviews. There is no way I can get substantial answers in such a short period.

The thirty minutes fly by, exactly how I feared. Out of the twenty questions I prepared we only got through three. James is a talker. Loves to tell a story for every occurrence of his life and loves to be fond over like he is a saint. I nod in appreciation when he mentions how much he has donated to needy children but I know that donation did not do a dent in his pockets. He probably also got a lot of publicity for it.

I will need to guide the answers better tomorrow. We both stand once I have gathered my things. I hear a faint knock at the door behind us. Just in time. Someone as rich as him probably has every second of the day accounted for.

"Daddy?" The voice sounds innocent. I expect to see a preteen by the door, probably too shy to come in with a stranger being in here.

It is much worse than I could have possibly imagined. Her hair is in a tight knot at the top of her head. Her slender body is covered by loose clothing but I see the black leotard peeking through her low neckline. The arch of her neck is as graceful as I remember, but it is her eyes that stop me from moving. They're as icy blue as I remember but it is that startled look that holds me captive for a moment. I savor the feeling that courses through my veins but all too soon she looks away and steps closer to hug her father who has walked across the room to meet her.

A breath escapes through my lips and I place a hand on my cheek to cool it. My first instinct is to run. Run away from this girl who has stolen my time. Who I could not get to cum for me even after almost begging her with my lips? Run away the same way I almost did that night. At the end of it I practically kicked her out of my hotel room. I can't kick her out of here.

"Taylor, meet my pride and joy, Paige." Paige, huh. Such a simple name for someone like her. They have the same eyes.

I shake her elegant, cold hand. "Nice to meet you."

She plays the innocent role well. Her big eyes take up half of her face. "Nice to meet you too, Taylor." She caresses my name.

I turn to her father and shake his hand one more time. "Very nice to meet you, James. I will see you tomorrow, same time."

The clicking of my heels coming down the stairs announce my departure to the staff. They grab the door for me. Once outside I take a lung full of air.

Oh, Hell.

******

"You have to go for me." I am pacing my studio. I stare back at the laptop on my bed. Images of Paige Lauren all over it. I was right about her being spoiled. She has probably never had to work a day in her life. I wouldn't have slept with her if I thought I would ever see her again. I broke my most important rule: only hook up with girls you'll never see again.

"And let you miss out on your best redemption story? You have a chance to do it over!" Renee is having a field day with this. Where I see danger and the possibility of me getting fired, she sees a second chance to sleep with Paige. I groan at the ridiculousness of it all.