Emerald Arcanum

Five o'clock on Friday couldn't have happened soon enough. After a hellish two weeks of calculating gains and losses for a botched run of client letters in the chaos-stricken office, Ben was ready for the weekend and its two brief days of solitude and peace.

Adding to his stress was his friend Adrian's departure from the department, a reassignment to another division. Ben knew that Adrian had hoped for another boring week so that the last one he'd have to spend in Ops could be whiled away bullshitting with the rest of the guys and playing pool on the Net. No such luck.

Some few minutes ticked past five, and Ben was closing down his workstation when Adrian leaned into his cubicle.

"Hey Bennie, you hitting Happy Hour tonight?"

"Of course - your last day here is excuse enough. And after a week like this besides, you have to ask?"

Adrian chuckled before heading off to get his coat. Ben watched his computer grind down to its shutdown screen as a mild gloom settled over him. Ben appreciated being alone probably more than most other people could tolerate, but he sensed it was getting old even for him. Locking himself into his apartment and letting the silence absorb the week's stress while reading a book, or wringing the agitation from his brain with the alternately pounding and soothing music of Verdi, Stravinsky, or Saint-Saens - all this Ben looked forward to on the weekends, but now the expectation was mixed with a growing depression from his self-enforced loneliness.

Maybe getting out once in a while for a drink with a few friends would brighten things for a while. "Live a little, for Christ's sake," he muttered to himself as he pressed the power button. Living a little, unfortunately, meant putting up with a noisy crowd of people. Maybe (he hoped, though unhopefully) something would happen tonight. The last half-dozen times he gave in to expectations when agreeing to go out for a Happy Hour, what happened was nothing.

That thought irritated Ben - but so did feeling sorry for himself. A flickering impulse resolved into steely determination: he would make something happen tonight. "Shouldn't be too hard," he thought to himself, "I'm no Quasimodo."

Ben met up with Adrian and four other coworkers and walked out onto the jammed streets of the City. Bar Street was only a block away - filled with convenient watering holes for the local mucky-muck business men and fellow office grunts like Ben. Despite the innocent aura women had back in his smallish hometown, many of the city girls didn't seem the least bit coy. Some were very obviously on the prowl. Ben had never picked up a woman at a bar before. Adrian, however, was an accomplished flirt and general lech. Ben needed to be in company with outgoing and genuinely warm friends like Adrian to even tolerate the bustling crowd of strangers and other miscreants lurking in the local bars, and perhaps an added benefit would be seeing him at work.

Unfortunately, Adrian had disappeared suddenly, and Ben was left with the several acquaintances from work he didn't exactly get along with as well. Firmly planting a smile on his face, Ben tried to hear what they were talking about over the noise the DJ was playing, but was only able to make out, "Art flavor jar spackle for necklace plant" before giving up and letting his eyes wander over the crowd - which was faceless thanks to the insufficient lighting.

"Here," Adrian nearly shouted into Ben's ear shortly before pressing a sub-room temperature plastic cup of beer into his hand. Adrian had miraculously found, infiltrated, and returned from the Free Beer stand at the back of the bar, all within the first few minutes of getting in the bar. "A regular pro, Adrian is," Ben thought.

A chorus of greetings rose up from the group of coworkers as they suddenly noticed as one that Adrian was back. Ned from Processing craned his neck out and hollered at a group of women turning from the bar. They flashed smiles and walked over, the men opened their standing circle to let them join in the unintelligible (as far as Ben could tell) conversation. Ned went on to introduce the girls to the guys - Ben simply smiling and nodding as each were named to him. He was able to make out his own name when he was introduced, but that was about it. Adrian immediately hit it off with a dark-eyed brunette, and several other guys very shortly seemed to establish intended pair-bonding. Ben didn't bother to stake any sort of claim - he simply nursed his beer and planned a departure strategy before the night got too late for him to get the subway out of town.

"Bennie!" Adrian shouted in full volume; the DJ, for some inscrutable reason, decided that eight people in Manchuria weren't deaf yet and had somehow found enough power to make the so-called music louder - "Joellie, Dianne, Hank, and Brad are at the PowderKeg," which Ben guessed was another bar, "We're all about to head over there. Stick close behind." Not having the patience to explain that he was about to head home, Ben lamely followed the crowd, dropping his still half-filled cup into a garbage can.

Once they were outside, Ben made his way up to Adrian.

"I think I'll actually be calling it a night,"

"You kidding me? You had, what, half a drink? And no beauty on your arm?" - the last bit brought paradoxically mature sounding giggle from his new date.

"The week took a lot out of me, Adrian. I'm on the verge of collapse."

"Alright. One of these days, though, I will get you drunk. Mark my words!"

"I'll mark my calendar. You'll be missed, Adrian."

"Hey, I'll see you around - just one floor away."

"I know it. See you around."

Despite the ringing in his ears, Ben was able to make out Adrian saying to his date, "That kid's the oldest twenty-two year old I know." Ben agreed, and kicked himself with nearly every step to the metro station. "What of my resolution?" he taunted himself, "all talk and no action." Shaking his head suddenly to clear his mind, he pulled his walkman from a pocket and put the earphones into his ears, nearly running down the escalator as the driving strings of the last movement of Vivaldi's Summer played out.

The subway train was pulling in as he made it to the platform, its doors opening seconds before Ben reached them. Hen walked in and swung down into a seat facing in the opposite direction of travel, back towards the rest of the car, and glanced up to see if anyone else was in there. There was. A young woman -

- Ben knew he was staring. She was not more than fifteen feet away. Their eyes were locked; she had the clearest, most brilliantly green eyes Ben had ever seen. He had to turn his head to face out the window to keep from looking at her, but her eyes were burned into his mind. He was able to see his own reflection in the window - his own eyes he knew were a brown so deep as to be nearly black. Women he had been with before loved to look deep into his eyes - and he now understood the allure they probably held for them after getting caught by this woman's.

He could sense her still watching him, still staring. The subway began to slow for the next stop, the growing quiet making him realize how loud he had his walkman set. The Vivaldi movement was spinning toward its conclusion, and the tape shortly afterward ran out. As he flipped the tape, he allowed his gaze to sweep towards the woman again. She was still looking at him, and she once again trapped him with her eyes. Ben wasn't used to such overt attention. He felt blood flowing to his face - and elsewhere. The doors of the subway car slid open and shut, and it began running forward again, and throughout it all Ben wasn't able to tear his eyes away. It was too late to say something now - nothing he could possibly think to say would be adequate, or even sensible. Despite the lurching acceleration the subway car made, the woman managed to get up and make a graceful walk towards Ben and sat sideways in the row in front of him.

"Was that Vivaldi?", she asked.

"Yes." Ben usually thought himself able to handle at least talking to women fairly well, but this one was having an unusual effect on him. He was thankful for the simple question that had a simple answer.

"It's unusual to see anyone listening to that sort of music. In public. At your age. And enjoy it."

Ben's mind ground slower and slower with each syllable - knowing at the end that it was a statement that didn't require a response. He was, once again, grateful. He nodded, or thought he nodded, but all the while still unable to look away.

She got up again and slid into the seat next to him, draping an arm over his shoulder, pulling him closer, bringing her lips against his. His eyes closed automatically, and his mind became free, but only because it went peacefully blank. Ben merely bathed in the sensuality of the kiss - her soft, warm lips coaxing his slightly apart before pressing against them again. The feel of her teeth tugging his lower lip for an instant before letting go. Her fingertips stroked up the back of his neck and ran through the hair on the back of his head, pressing his face more firmly against hers. She opened the kiss, and her tongue flowed against his as her other hand landed gently on his thigh. Her palm felt hot through his slacks.

Her lips pulled away by fractions of an inch and floated to his ear. "I want to take you home with me."

"Okay." he replied in a voice that was shaken and stirred.

They kissed lazily for the remaining twenty minutes of the ride to the suburb, Ben utterly passive to the explorations of her tongue and hand. His erect cock she had guided from an uncomfortable trap down a pant leg, allowing its full length to be felt through the fabric. A damp spot grew at the tip, leaving a darkened stain. His one and only move was to turn towards her and place a hand at her waist. Her gentle strokes brought him dangerously close to orgasm many times, but she stopped each time, and let the arousal subside before building it up again.

Ben needed to be inside her badly. As time went on, peak by peak, his need grew more urgent, her touch all the more pleasurable and unbearable. His lust gave him back some of his lost initiative; his tongue turned the tide against hers and he finally tasted her mouth, her tongue tickling and fluttering against his all the while, hinting heavy-handedly at what she might be doing with that tongue later.

She pulled away from him as the metro made its final stop. She took his hand and led him out of the station to her car, a red two-door that bordered on threatening looking. He got into the passenger side, his mind still a peaceful blank - though not without some level of introspection. All the while he thought to himself, "Just relax... be glad she doesn't seem to feel a need to be talked to... God, I hope I don't come the instant I'm in her," He looked over to her again, taking in her beauty - she had a striking, unusual look, from what he could remember from when he first saw her. Most of the time on the train, his eyes were closed, and now he could only see her profile ("A profile that could launch a thousand ships!" he thought to himself) in the darkness of the car. Her hand rested on his leg, and quickly found his half-engorged cock. She expertly massaged him with her palm, bringing him again to full hardness, straining in his pants. The damp spot had gotten quite cold in the chill night air, but the coldness went away quickly.

He bonelessly (for the most part) sagged in the seat, her fingertips curling against the underside of his clothed cock, dancing against the sensitive skin, making his erection bulge harder than he could remember being in a long time. "How long had it been?" he asked himself, and realized that it was a year two months ago. Not that he hadn't been practicing five or six times a week.

Her hand stroked him at an even tempo, and he felt his balls begin their slow boil right before she pulled her hand away. He released a sighing moan as his cock pulsated in yet another aborted orgasm. As his mind reeled, the voice in his head that wears glasses asked, "How many was there on the train? Ten? Fifteen? We'll black out from the recoil when we finally do shoot."

As his breaths evened out, her hand was once again on him, holding his cock against his leg. She turned through a gate and pulled to a stop in front of a largish house, set well back from the road ("Where the hell am I?" he thought to himself) and further secluded by a small but dense stand of trees. She turned the car off, and very quickly unbuttoned his pants and pulled his zipper down, freeing his tormented cock. He felt the air on his manhood for a brief moment before her exquisite mouth closed on him - leaving him gasping and gripping the doorhandle like a safety bar on a rollercoaster. Her tongue rolled around his cockhead, and her fist squeezed his shaft tightly.

"Oh... oh yes... oh... no ... " he gasped as his long-delayed orgasm shook itself awake and began to gather strength -

- but not before she pulled her mouth off him with a small pop and released his cock from her hand. Unconsciously, he reached for himself with his hand, but she grabbed his wrist and held it away, watching his cock twitch and jump as the climax made like a wet firecracker.

"Oh... oh... you... you... " he panted in frustration, to which she laughed sadistically. She then leaned in for a kiss, which ended too soon. Getting up out of the car, she began walking towards the front door. Ben had to get out of the car before tucking his cock back into his pants - feeling indecent exposing himself outdoors.

Once inside, she took his hand and led him upstairs. The bed was a four-poster and queen-sized, with a glittering red comforter and red sheets and red pillows - lots and lots of red, a dark, rich red, all the fabric in the room. Lighting was subdued and reflected off the walls. She turned back towards him, and once again the depth of her green eyes sucked him in. She reached for his belt, and pulled him against her for a kiss, her tongue pushing into his mouth as her hands made quick work of undoing his belt, button, and zipper, letting the pants fall away around his ankles. His loose blue boxershorts sported a few very large wetspots, where precum had leaked out in some volume. She deftly undid each button of his shirt, and pushed it down his arms, it, too, falling to the floor. Her jeans and shirt seemed to vanish as he ungracefully pulled off his undershirt and extricated himself from his socks and the tangle of clothing at his feet.

She stood before him now in white panties and bra; him in his blue boxers and a hardon hanging out. She pulled down his boxers, ending on her knees before him, his cock jumping up out from under the waistband and landing in her mouth on the first bounce. He was surprised by how long it took him to get close to orgasm again - his cock had gotten a little numb. Her hands ran from the hollows below his hips to his backside, and she pulled him forward, deeper into her mouth. He felt resistance at the entrance to her throat, but only briefly as he felt her open up and come close to swallowing him. She tightened her mouth around his cock, her lips now at the base, and pulling back, sucking hard, her tongue grinding up against the underside, re-awakening nerve cells he had thought were stunned into insensibility. "This time, " he thought to himself, "this time she's going to finish me... " He immersed his hands in her long, straight, raven-black hair, letting them rest gently on the back of her head.

She moaned around his cock, increasing the tempo. "Yes... yes... this is it!" his mind screamed as his eyes squeezed shut and his breath built up in his sealed lungs. Her hands flew to his and easily pulled them away from her head. Her mouth slid off his cock just as he felt the fluids begin to rush inside him... and slow... and stop. His cock jumped as though in orgasm, and his breath escaped, leaving him panting in time to the faux orgasm, as long streamers of precum oozed from the tip of his cock onto the carpet.

She stood and guided him onto his back on the bed. She stood on her knees, straddling his legs, unhooking her bra from the front. Her breasts barely relaxed after being released, nipples standing out firm, her emerald green eyes boring into him. She stood, letting the panties slide down her lightly tanned, smooth legs. Her thighs were slick with her moisture, and she dangled her panties off her foot, flipping them up onto Ben's chest. Her musk invaded his nostrils, sending his brain higher into flight. She got down and straddled his chest, the heat and wet seeping from her core marking his skin like a stamp. Reaching over him to each side - letting her breasts swing slightly over his face, she pulled straps up from behind the bed, and expertly secured each wrist in what looked like a collar, and then secured the collars to the strap that was tied to the post. Ben merely submitted, resigning himself to be completely and utterly under her control.

She turned and secured his ankles in the same fashion, his legs spread wide. She hummed with satisfaction as she came back around and favored his lips with another lingering kiss. He could feel droplets of her juices on his belly as she hovered her hips over him. She rose up on her knees again and suspended herself directly over his straining cock. His heart beat hard and his breath was ragged with expectation.

She arched her back and rubbed her nipples, moaning in near-ecstasy. A thin stream of her moisture dripped directly onto his cock, sending a shiver throughout his body. The stream grew thicker. He gasped in alarm as a thin, deep-pink proboscis snaked out from within her and its pointed tip curved sinuously at the tip of his cock. Before he could react further, the tip slid into the hole.

"Oh!" she gasped out. Her juices ran thicker - a transparent, runny lubricant that had now completely coated his cock and soaked most of his thighs and hips.

Ben could feel the thin, fleshy probe pushing inside his cock, deeper and deeper. The sensation was extraordinary - he wasn't watching anymore, his head pressed back hard against the pillow, eyes squeezed shut so tightly white starbursts and disks flashed in front of his eyes.

The probe lodged well inside his reproductive tract, blocking nearly every outlet for seminal fluids. She sank down on him, her probe keeping his cock on a straight course for her tight cunt, which was clenching spasmodically for something to squeeze against. A second probe began uncurling from between her entrance and anus; the wider than a finger, coated thickly with her fluids.

Ben felt the point against his ass, pushing against his tightened sphincter, the sensation sending a rush of blood into his cock (which he didn't think could possibly get any harder). The second probe pushed inside him, holding firmly upward, seeking and finding very quickly the hard bulb of his prostate. His eyes widened suddenly as the deep, rhythmic massage began - there, kneeling over him she was, her head tossed back, her hips writhing as she - waited? - for something, holding herself ready to impale herself on his cock. She was still playing with her nipples - squeezing them between her fingers, rubbing her palms against them, pulling on them - all the while gasping for breath between long, loud moans.

Heat built up - in places where Ben hadn't felt such a heat before. His lower back glowed with it, then, strangely, his toes. His eyes involuntarily squeezed shut has warmth enveloped his hips and thighs, centered on the insistent prostate massage given by the flesh probe lodged inside him. His breaths became quivers as his legs began to shake with a wave of deep, full-bodied pleasure. The wave crested and was reinforced by a second wave. Wave after wave passed through him, this strange orgasm building on itself, higher and higher, never ending, constantly rising beyond any peaks he had ever experienced before. The sensations built to the point where he thought he would explode, and somehow built further without triggering the explosion. And still the tentacle massaged him.