Summary:
She meets that women for the last time...
Author's note:
I wasn't intending to sneak in any bonus writing, especially with my rammed workload, but it's weird how ideas can strike you in the most unexpected of places, and swiftly become scenes you need to put to paper as soon as you can. I wrote this in about 40 minutes, in a frenzy, and I think the little scene I'm going to present is a decent one. There's no really complex story - it's a bit of smut, plain and simple, but there's nothing wrong with that!
I was out at a cafe the other day on my lunch break, and I saw a woman sitting alone at a table. Another woman entered, and she was strikingly beautiful - everyone could see it. I saw the woman at the table look at her with an interesting expression, and then she went into the toilet a few minutes later, shortly after this stunning woman. Nothing there, of course - a total coincidence - but my mind imagined a whole story of what those few fleeting interactions might have been. I hope you enjoy the fruits of my midday daydream!
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The Last Time
This was it - I was going to tell her. Today would the last time, and then that would be it. I'd never see her, never again.
Fuck, when I thought about it like that, it was all so easy.
And yet, with her, it never seemed to be.
But today had to be it - it
had
to be the last time.
I couldn't keep doing this, breaking away from living my life and coming to see her whenever she demanded. I was a businesswoman, not a young girl ruled by my heart and my sex drive, and she didn't understand that. If she did, she pretended not to, anyway, because she knew that she could hit me harder with that cruel indifference.
And, of course, there was the fact that I was straight - that was a biggie, yet that somehow didn't stop me from coming here to meet her.
She'd sent me a message, telling me to come to this coffee shop and what time to be there. There was no politeness about it - it was an order, an order she knew I'd follow because I'd followed her orders since the day we met.
But no more.
This was the last time.
I know I'd said it before, ever since that night we met - the night I told her I wasn't interested, yet and that I was straight, and yet I somehow wound up on my knees in a train station toilet eating pussy for the first time. It was so... so unlike me, and I hated how it made me feel. I hated myself for being such a whore, and I hated that I liked it.
She had my number, and she'd text me, telling me where to go and eat her out again. I thought about ignoring those messages, ignoring her, but I was never quite able to.
She'd cast a spell on me, one that I'd couldn't quite break.
And one that, during those lonely nights at home, I wondered why I even thought about breaking it as I pleasured myself, pushing myself to the kind of orgasm that only came when I thought of her.
But I was lucid now, and I knew what I was doing. Skulking around, taking booty calls to fuck some stranger - how could it go on?
That's why today would be the last time.
I took a sip of my coffee, and I heard the bell over the door go.
It was her.
She entered the coffee shop, and all eyes were on her. She attracted attention, with her electric blue hair and all (she'd had it cut into a bob now, and it suited her). She had a nose ring, and the most vivid green eyes, and once you fell under their spell, they'd never let you go - I knew that well enough. And she was dressed simply today, a black dress not threatening to touch her knees and some matching ankle boots. It was loose-fitting, and yet it highlighted every curve of her stunning body.
She was someone you noticed, you understand, because she was magnetic and she was beautiful. Compared to her, women like me - average in every way - we wouldn't be seen.
Apart from by people like her.
She looked around, and briefly stared at me. She didn't greet me, she didn't acknowledge me, but I knew she saw me. She didn't need to look, of course - she knew I'd be there. I told her as much.
She'd have known even if I didn't tell her, because she knew the power she had.
But not for much longer - today would be the last time.
But first, the charade. She went and bought a coffee, and took a seat on her own. She wasn't directly in my eyeline, but she was seated so I'd see her. That was important, of course - I had to be able to see her.
And then I sat and waited, trying not to sneak glances at this amazing woman. She was so close to me, and she knew the effect it had on me - I could feel myself getting warmer, and the first tingles between my legs started to make their presence known. I bit my lip gently, hoping to distract myself, but it didn't work.
She could have come and sat with me, of course. She could have talked to me, we could have got to know each other - fuck, she could have at least told me her
name
.
But that wasn't what she wanted, no. She liked keeping me at arm's length, using me for her pleasure whenever she decided she wanted me, and that was the extent of our relationship. She treated me like I was nothing, and somehow that made this whole thing between us so much better.
I couldn't explain it - I
liked
her indifference. In my career, I was so used to being in charge, people hanging off my every word. But with her, it wasn't like that - she didn't give a shit who I was, and that was so exciting.
I was nothing to her.
That made it so hot.
And that was why this had to end.
What sort of relationship
was
this?