Authors: Kim Corum
I couldn’t help but smile. Because she was so little and cute, she made me feel bigger and stronger.
“I scooted over to him, took the beer out of his hand and put it on the coffee table. He just sat there and let me. Not one word came out of his mouth. I wanted to seduce him. I wanted to have him under my control.
Though I was very nervous, I began to nibble at his ear. I was terrified I’d slobber or something and make him push me away in disgust. I really liked him and had even considering waiting until he made the first move. But he was more nervous than I was and that might have taken years. I didn’t want to wait years. I don’t have that kind of patience.
I wanted this man. And I wanted him bad. He was good looking, successful and a few years older than me. He was prefect and I wasn’t about to let him get away.
After I had nibbled his ear, I moved to his neck and began to lick it. He just sat there. Smiling to myself, I began to suck on his neck. I think I gave him a hickey.”
She did. It was huge, right under my ear. I couldn’t get away with covering it up with a cravat, could I? No, I couldn’t. All the guys at the office teased and tormented me relentlessly.
“What did you do?” they tormented. “Burn yourself with your curling iron?”
I took it good-naturedly because, hell, she had given it to me and I was almost proud of it. It showed her passion. And her determination.
When she came by to see me one day, they fell over themselves, ogling at her.
They all asked, “Is that her?”
I said, “Keep your eyes to yourself.”
“He sat there and I put my hand on his dick. He was so hard. I moved his face to mine and kissed him, licking his lips until he started to kiss me back. What a sweet kiss that was. It was perfect.
I moaned. We kissed for minutes, sitting there on that couch. I loved to kiss him. His lips are so great, so red and plump. I loved to bite his bottom lip and pull it out a little with my teeth. He loved me to do that.
After we kissed for a little while, I got between his legs, like a stripper (I had plenty of practice) and began to move my body up and down his. I gave him one damn good lap dance and he just sat there with his hands on my hips and held me there. He began to run his hands up and down my back. He rested them on my breasts, cupping them, squeezing them. I loved the way that felt, his big hands on me like that. I moved down and begin to nibble at his dick through his pants. He got so excited then, he just unzipped his pants and pulled them down for me. He couldn’t wait for a blowjob and I gave him a good one. I eased into it, nibbling down the shaft then back up again, then I put it in my mouth and sucked on it. He nearly rose up off the couch. I took it out and smiled up at him. He was so turned on he couldn’t smile back. He couldn’t do much but sit there.
But then he did an odd thing. He grabbed me up under my arms, threw me on the couch like some Neanderthal and began to tear off my clothes, like he couldn’t get them off me quick enough.
I loved it.
He just took total control of me. All I could do was lie there and pant and moan and arch my back and wrap my legs around his head and beg him to fuck me.
After he had devoured my entire body—fingers and toes included!—he put his big dick right between my legs and shoved it in. I gasped. Then he began to fuck me, again like some caveman. And he knew how to fuck. This guy knew when to stop and let me get some. He knew when to start again, when to hold back so he wouldn’t come. He knew every move in the book.
It was unbelievable. No. Hold on. It was UN-FUCKING-BELIEVABLE! After we’d been fucking a good ten minutes (and we were all sweaty) he stopped and was very still. What was he doing?
He whispered, ‘Now fuck me, baby. Fuck me.’
I had never had a guy do that and I wasn’t sure what he meant.
‘Squeeze it around my dick.’
I didn’t know what the hell he was talking about. I stared at him and he whispered, ‘Your pussy. Squeeze it around my dick.’
Mmm… Okay. I tried that. He moaned his gratitude.
‘That’s it,’ he said. ‘Grab it.’
I did just that. He again moaned his appreciation.
‘Now you move,’ he said. ‘You move and fuck me.’
I moved and fucked him. I couldn’t get enough. I squirmed under him, our hot and sweaty bodies sticking to each other’s. I wriggled and gyrated and then… Oh. My. God. I felt this enormous orgasm erupt inside my body. It started slow and then grew and grew and grew until I grabbed onto him and screamed, ‘Fuck me!’ He did. And as he fucked me, my orgasm intensified and I held onto it for a good two minutes.
That’s when I knew he was my man. He was one I wasn’t going to let go. He didn’t really have a choice in the matter. He was mine.
After we were done, I said, ‘Let’s do that again.’”
She did. She wore me out that first night. She couldn’t get enough. But I didn’t complain or anything…
“After we were done, at about three in the morning, he said, ‘I really would like to see you again.’
And I replied, ‘So move in.’”
I grinned. Yeah. That’s what she had said. And I had jumped at the opportunity, even though a few of my friends said she might be using me and all this other stupid shit. I didn’t care. I would have given everything I had to be with her. Even for a minute. What good is having money of you can’t get what you want? And I wanted her more than anything.
And she didn’t want my money anyway. She tested me once right after we started dating.
She said, “You love me?”
I didn’t hesitate, “Yes. You know I do.”
“Ummm…” she muttered and eyed me and I could tell she was trying to come up with something. “You trust me?”
“Of course I do.”
“Can I look in your wallet?”
“Let me see your wallet.”
Now it wasn’t a request. It was a demand. I didn’t mind. I leaned over and fetched it out of my pants and handed it to her.
She propped herself up on her elbow and began to go through it. She cracked up at my driver’s license picture and squealed, “You look like an inmate!” She nodded with approval at my CPR card. She counted my money, checked out my credit cards and then handed it back.
I waited. I knew there would be something else. There always was with her.
“Where’s your checkbook?” she asked.
“Your checkbook. Where is it?”
I shrugged. “It’s in the kitchen.”
She eyed me and I got up and retrieved it. She looked through it and handed it back.
“I want you to go get me half of what’s in there,” she said.
She nodded. “You trust me, don’t you?”
I groaned and got up, bent and picked up my pants. She let me get dressed and I was headed out the door when she burst into laughter.
“I was only joking! God, Bruce!”
I had felt like a fool! A fool! I’m surprised she didn’t let me go all the way to the bank.
I turned and said, “I want to look in your wallet.”
She grinned and said, “Be my guest. I have nothing to hide.”
That’s when I knew I couldn’t live without her. That’s why I had to find her. She had my heart and I had to find her to get it back.
Just then, the doorbell went off. I jerked around and stared in the direction of the front door, then back at the journal.
. Who the hell could that be? I got up and went to it. It was Eric, my business partner and the guy who told Sandy I wanted her number at the strip club. He’s a good guy. I’d known him since we shared a dorm room our first year of college.
He grinned at me. “Hey, man.”
“Hey,” I said and stepped aside to let him in.
He entered and looked around as he made his way into the living room. “The maid on vacation?”
I looked around at the mess. I shrugged.
“Sandy would shit if she saw this mess,” he said.
“Sandy’s not here.”
He turned and held up his hands. “I didn’t mean—”
“I know. Don’t sweat it,” I said and headed into the kitchen. “You want a beer?”
He shrugged and looked at his watch. “Sure. Why not?”
“Come on,” I said and went into the kitchen.
He followed me and looked around. “I always thought this was the best kitchen you ever designed.”
I looked around, up at the high ceiling, then at the white marble tile and the stainless steel counters. I had to admit, it was some of my best work.
“Yeah,” I said and opened the refrigerator. “What kind of beer do you want?”
He came over behind me and cracked up. I had about twelve six packs of every beer imaginable.
“Give me that one, man,” he said, chuckling and pointing. “You having a party?”
“Not anytime soon, I’m not,” I said and handed him the beer, then got one for myself. “You want a glass?”
“Nah,” he said and held it up. “I’ll just drink it from the bottle.”
It was just as well. I didn’t have any clean ones. I uncapped mine and held it up, “Bottom’s up.”
We took a sip then I motioned him out of the kitchen and into the living room. As I cleared a space for him on the couch, I noticed all of Sandy’s journals on the coffee table. I didn’t try to hide them.
He looked around and said, “So, what have you been doing?”
“You coming back to work?”
I shrugged. “Do I need to?”
“Nah. Everything’s cool. You could easily not work another day in your life and still be set.”
I nodded. “I’ll take that under consideration.”
“I just thought you should know some of our better clients have been asking about you. You were always the best one of us.”
I nodded and took a sip of beer, then lit a cigarette. I offered him the pack and he took one. I lit it for him.
“Thanks,” he said and leaned back into the couch. As much as he could lean back. It was an ultra modern Italian leather couch. Not much cushion but a lot of style. Sandy hated it. “I like the way it looks, but it’s uncomfortable as hell!” She preferred the den where we had a big sectional that you just sink into when you sit down. She rarely sat in the living room. The fact that there wasn’t a TV in the living room might have been one of the reasons.
“So how have things been with you?” I asked.
“Let’s cut the shit, Bruce.”
“I came here to see how you are. How
He eyed me. “You haven’t shaved in, what, four weeks?”
“Right,” I said and scratched my bearded chin. I hadn’t shaved in a while and didn’t plan to for another while.
“You haven’t worked out, either, I can tell.”
I shrugged. “What’s the use?”
“I don’t know, but you’re turning to flab.”
I glanced at myself in the gigantic mirror we had propped on the floor. I was looking sort of jowly. Maybe I should cut back on the beer and start working out a little. But then again, why should I bother?
“You look like hell, Bruce.”
“I do, don’t I?”
“Ah, man, don’t. Don’t pull that passive aggressive shit with me!”
“This isn’t you. You’re not indifferent. If you have anything to say, you can tell me. I’m your best friend.”
I nodded. He was.
“You never want to go out. You stay home all alone all day doing God knows what. You’re going to go crazy.”
“What is this? An intervention?”
“Do you need one?”
“No,” I said and crossed my arms.
“Sure? You look crazy.”
I said calmly, “When I’m ready, I’ll be back. You can rest assured.”
“And when is that going to be? A year? Two?”
“Is the firm falling apart?” I asked.
“Well, no, it isn’t, but—”
“When it starts to fall apart, let me know. And I’ll be there to fix it. Until then, leave me the fuck alone. I started that firm by myself, if you will recall, without your or anyone else’s help. I took out loans I had no idea how I was going to pay back. I did things I said I’d never do to make it as successful as it is. And now I’m taking a fucking break. You don’t like it? Get your ass out. You didn’t show up until it started to show a profit anyway.”
He nodded. I was right. I had to do everything myself.
I added, “If you can’t handle running it, let me know and I will find someone who can.”
“I appreciate that, Bruce, but I am not here as a business partner. I am here as a friend.”
“Then stay out of my business.”
He was biting his tongue, I could just tell. I knew why he was here. Move on! Get on with your life! She’s gone! Give it up! And I would. When I was ready. I knew one day I would be ready to let her go. That day hadn’t arrived yet, but when it did, I’d be done with her. And I knew it. And I didn’t feel like explaining myself to him.
He said, “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“No, Eric,” I said. “It’s not so bad. Not really. Knowing the woman you loved and trusted didn’t love or trust you back is actually a good thing.”
“Don’t pull that shit with me. You’re dying inside.”
“No, not really.”
“Yeah, you are. What’s it been? Two, three months?”
“No, it’s been longer than that. Over six now.”
“Is it getting easier?”
“Is what getting easier?” I asked and stared at him.
“Living without her.”
I looked away and all of a sudden I felt myself throw the beer up against the wall. The bottle didn’t break; it only dented the wall and fell to the floor. Beer poured out and onto the dark oak floor.
I turned back to him and said, “Yeah. It’s getting easier every day.”
He looked shocked. “Jesus Christ.”
“That’s how I feel, Eric. Right now. I’m pissed off. Maybe in a few hours, I’ll break down and cry. Maybe I won’t. I might sleep till noon tomorrow and I might not. I might wake up and want to die instead. I might not. That’s how I feel. It changes.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay.”
I put my cigarette out and lit another one. “Listen, man, I know why you’re here. I know what you’re doing and I really appreciate it. But this isn’t really something you can help me with.”