By Narcissa Lyons
I had a conversation with a friend the other day about a topic that has long puzzled me, and I’ve got few answers here today. Continue reading
By Christopher Rose
Miranda did not like to talk to many people, but in fairness they might not have liked talking to her. She felt self-conscious because she had more freckles than she thought was right, and her hair was never at ease. This made her wear her dark hair up in a bun-ified pony tail. In fact she was a very pretty woman, but having grown up with a model for a mother who was good at criticizing every swallowed morsel and lack of make-up had worn her down, and her father was never around to hear it and defend her, because she knew he would have defended her. She totally understood why he had never been around and why, when he was, had been mostly very full of whiskey. Unintentionally she walked trying to be unnoticed.
She was an accountant at a medium sized firm in Las Vegas, and she had seen many things on the streets and had learned from them all. It was also partly the reason she dressed more conservatively than most for her young age of 34. She worked out all the time because she didn’t have too much else to do, it being a workout that consisted of running the streets and weights at home. She was not up for a gym, didn’t dare want pity or being overwhelmed by muscly beasts walking on by her in the heat of ignore. She was not sure if she was more scared of the beasts, or having to look at pretty women wearing almost nothing and looking good. She was terrified of it, and knew she was off mentally because of it, but didn’t care. She had a lean hour glass of a body herself, and you could mostly make that out even with her fairly over-sized/layered clothing. She had small, but proud tits with nipples even she thought were pert, and complimented the rest of her. She’d have been seen as prettier had she not always looked like she was carrying a burden, but in effect she was with a life like that. You could not have said she was an unhappy person, because she smiled sometimes, talked when engaged, but it was just not much more than that. It’s unfair, but she might have been the classic example of a person just living day to day. Her night life was minimal, but she went out with a few people from work sometimes, had some drinks and went home. She had a couple of friends still from high school she’d go out with on occasion but she truthfully preferred the company of her two cats, a sad cliché she knew.
She did not date very much and didn’t really care. She’d go out a few times with a man and either he would get bored with the conversation or she would. There was sex sometimes, but then uncomfortableness she could not bear, so she stopped looking for a companion as much as she had been and decided she’d buy better toys instead. She didn’t really understand the uncomfortableness since it did not stem from her. She was perfectly comfortable, but the men seemed as though they wanted more, yet when she tried to get some answers no one was ever able to tell her anything helpful. She was aware they probably wanted her to talk more, or at least volunteer conversation instead of merely answering questions. Why is it that no one could just be? And why was it so important to learn everything about a person all at once? Good things evolved over time. This sort of unanswered introspection inevitably landed her feeling like a lost soul.
Things changed very dramatically when her building’s maintenance man was fired and the replacement showed up. Miranda was sitting at her desk and glanced up when she heard someone ask Maeve where the kitchen was. Normally, it would have been a glance and only that, but she immediately looked back up, possibly a little too startlingly, because the man looked over at her. He smiled, and politely nodded to her and then went back to Maeve who was in the middle of explaining where the kitchen was. Miranda could not stop staring at him. He was tall, black, and from what she could tell, had a lean physique. Instinct told her he was perfect underneath his beaten jeans and heavy shirt. She did not get to analyze his face because he walked away, but there was something that was pulling at her, that made her warm between her legs, her abdominal desire making her wish she were at home so she could touch herself privately and stay that hunger.
His name was David Marsh and he was 39. Being in Accounting made it easy to find those kinds of things out. Figuring out where he kept himself when he was not working on building repairs took a little more effort, but it was effort she was willing to expend. A week after she had first spotted him, she was going down the elevator to her car and he entered the otherwise empty lift on the next floor down. Their eyes briefly locked, and she drew in her breath, hating herself for doing so because it was audible. He looked away, not saying anything. In dismay, she realized he might assume she was scared of him. Much as she wanted to say hello she was paralyzed, could feel her heart beating faster and louder as the elevator arrived to the basement. When the door opened he waited for her to get out, which she did but slightly tripped as she walked over the gap. He touched her back to steady her and she felt herself shiver as a reaction to his touch, even though she wore a few layers. She turned her head as she recovered.
“Thank you.” She said while giving a demure and slight nod, her eyes unable to avoid glancing over his body, quickly taking in the jean jacket over T-shirt and the loose fitting jeans. She thought she smelled a faint musk mixed with something mechanical. Manly.
David looked at her strangely, maybe shook his head a little. “No problem”.
She hurried away so she would not further embarrass herself, and wondered if he’d seen her look him over and what he thought. If he assumed she was making some kind of negative judgement because of his color. Shit! She shouted in her brain. The opposite! She opened her car, got in and leaned her head against the steering wheel to slow her breathing and ease her worries, one of her hands easing itself between her legs to calm the throbbing there that would not stop.
David had also exited the elevator, but had paused to watch the strange woman get to her car. He recognized her from one of the offices, and remembered vaguely her delicate features. Nervous type. It got a little old being feared by delicate white women. He sighed and broke from his thoughts, but then noticed her head was leaning over her steering wheel. What did THAT mean? If she were scared of him she would not want to see him standing nearby, so off he walked to his own car, quietly thinking about her. Chicks were just weird, particularly white chicks. Likeable, but weird. He smiled and forgot about her as his beautiful blue Mustang appeared around the garage column.
“Now there’s my woman” he said to no one in particular. “You lookin’ fine”.
Miranda did something she didn’t normally, though she’d had in her mind the idea she needed to start. Even if she was quiet, meek, or whatever people wanted to call her, she was a woman who liked sex, and she was sure she hadn’t had the right partner yet. Her mind kept going back to David, his lean, steely length, his smell in the contained space of the elevator. She was ravaged, a craze in her blood to find someone. She didn’t even care if it’d be a woman as long as a dildo was involved. But she went out with the intent to seduce a man. On her ride home she had thought back to his hand supporting her as she tilted, knew they were calloused hands and that just got her hotter. She was basically frantic as she went through her closet.
“How fucking stupid am I?” she asked her cats. “Seriously.” She was unhappy with her wardrobe. “This is why I have no fucking boyfriend”. She paused and made a bullshit-to-that expression. “Or it’s a lot of the reason.” She made a mental note to start buying better looking stuff. Even if she covered herself too much, the patterns and colors could be better.
She was hungry, sullen, horny enough that she wanted nothing more than to feel her own heat and rub herself into ecstasy, but she didn’t. There was an edge to this need that she didn’t want to take off because she figured she’d have more success if the men could read her when she walked in. Smell the sexual desperation. So she got in the shower and efficiently cleaned, shaved and stepped out. She held off on looking for clothing she knew her closet didn’t have, and instead focused on her make-up, another area she only dabbled in. She went tilt-a-whirl with her black eye-liner, going deep and long under and over her eyes, smudging, even adding shadows under her eyes. She found old red lipstick and generously applied it. She would not wear her hair in a ponytail, but took it down and then teased it to something wild. She had not known she knew how to do that and heard herself purr.
She smiled at what she saw in the mirror because it was not her, and she was just fine with that. She knew her chances were good. Fuck that, very good, and she could feel her excitement grow, a slight intake of breath as she thought of the night ahead and the actions it promised. The disguise she had created was her courage, and she did not pour herself a drink. She smiled at her freedom, knew it was David who was making her act this way even if he didn’t know it. Thinking of him made her head for the door to find, find, find.
Vegas is a tough place to live, but the residents knew where to go to avoid the throngs of idiots that visited. Normally Miranda stayed away, but the new Miranda soaked it in, walked confidently down the street. She stopped in a clothing shop and found a lace trimmed black tank top that she donned in the dressing room, along with a light pink, tight fitting skirt, then left her own clothes behind and paid the cashier.
She stepped back out onto the street and headed for “Heist”, a mid-range famous dance club she’d been to once before. Women did not pay cover, and the bouncers waved her entry while looking her up and down. Small, suggestive smiles that she returned. She would have her way.
But when she entered, she felt a small wave of Maranda-the-accountant hit her. It was massive, too massive, too dark and too loud. “Get the fuck out of here” she said out loud to that woman she wished to leave behind. “Not tonight” she emphasized but said more softly. There was space enough on the outskirts, and she walked slowly, purposefully, soaking in the deep, reverberating rhythm until she reached the remote bar where she ordered a martini. Which she’d only ever had once with mixed results. After the bartender exchanged a deep look with her as he handed her the glass, she turned around to view her scene.
There were a lot of beautiful people, and the usual surplus of the almost-theres that were less passive in their demeanor. Always reaching. Her mouth twisted while she contemplated that irony. Striving for something not yours in this life that ever so lightly it affected your appearance in the opposite direction. She sipped her drink, didn’t gasp at the strength, but enjoyed the liquid’s thrill ride down her throat. Since she was not in the center or dancing, and the night was still relatively young, she could see a lot, and her eyes casually roamed. Miranda caught the eyes of a young, handsome blonde, widened her smile into something knowing and lifted her drink as a greeting from afar but then looked away. She drank quickly as she continued her scan, not really knowing how her eyes would settle.
She leaned back against a wall in what she now considered her section of the dance bar, began to feel more at home and a little more in tune with her physicality. She swayed slightly to the music, felt the beginning of a really nice buzz, and this made her aware that her second martini would be her last, and then on to something wit-keeping. She had momentarily looked down at her hands, and when she looked up she saw them on the outer ring of the dance floor, but facing her and not the dancers. It was startling to the point she would have turned to look for what their focus was had she not known she were standing alone. She had heard of them.
It was the Jackson twins, she was sure of it, a set of brothers more than casually discussed in female circles. Well loved, adored really. And she could see why, since all she had heard was true and amplified. They were dark haired, dark skinned men with lean builds, and they always dressed alike. Tonight it was black T-shirt and jeans–not original, but classically effective. This would have seemed trite or stupid under most circumstances, but since one of them was in a wheelchair, it was decidedly not.
They were staring at her from across that way, and it had only been a couple of seconds, but Miranda was on the better side of bewitched, distracted by the thoughts of all she had heard. The one in the wheelchair looked a little amused, and she felt her mouth go dryer and took a deeper sip of her martini. The un-handicapped Jackson was standing behind the wheelchair holding it, looking at her as well but more serious, hypnotizing. The virility of the picture was matchless.
It was said they were wealthy, lived together and shared women. One at a time. It was said they were not any kinkier than that, one brother helping the other but really helping each other because what could be a better combination for piercing the heart and the pussy of a woman than just the good looking two of them? What differentiated them further was their reputation for kindness, and passionate attention to the desires of a woman, their wish to please exceeding their need to be pleased, slow and deliberate with their efforts. She believed they had “regulars” or what equated to their girlfriends, but they had a large appetite and that’s how their reputation had developed. She had seen a picture of them once in a similar stance as she looked at them now, only each were clad in boxer briefs, their bodies tanned and nice to look at, linger on. Someone had said they had modeled for a stretch in Italy and Japan, and even did some fashion related commercials.
She realized she was breathing heavier, and that her groin ached, and her hand was lightly but discreetly over her own soft triangle, and she moved it away even while part of her thrilled they noticed the gesture.
“You were thinking of something good I guess” a woman’s voice said, startling her, close.
Miranda felt jerked out of her exquisite reverie, almost offended as she turned her head to look at the source. “Um, what?’ she asked, foggy. Her eyes focused to this nearer vision, and she beheld a tall, long haired blonde. Pretty. With her own sort of hunger.
The woman drew nearer, and reached to put her hand delicately through the side wisps of Miranda’s hair. “You started to touch yourself when you were looking at the twins”. She said matter of factly and seductively at the same time. “I think I saw your eyes starting to roll back”. She said more quietly, staring intently into Miranda’s eyes.
When she turned to look back at them, the one guiding the chair was beginning to turn it, but as he did so kept his gaze on her for a few moments longer and then nodded his head with a smile, saying good-night.
“Don’t worry” The woman continued. “You’ll see them again if you want to. They like you.” Miranda looked at the woman again. “I can see why”. She added, and her hand glided softly to touch the top of Miranda’s left breast, her eyes holding hers steady. “You don’t talk much”.
At last Miranda found her voice. “You won’t let me.” She said. She felt the woman’s hand then fully cup her breast and squeeze hard. It hurt, but she closed her eyes because it also felt good. Anything would feel good right now as long as it was touching her.
“Like that, do you?” She said, and took a long drink and set it down on the ledge behind Miranda, so Miranda knew things were going to get trickier, slicker and heavy. She felt herself moan, heart-beat hammer, and triangle hum. She put her own drink down, and grabbed the back of the girl’s head, brought her face to hers.
The dance lights sparkling on the main floor gave the bar an eerie-hip aura, and the two melded to each other, almost unseeable against the dark wall, Miranda losing hesitance, enjoying making out, feeling the woman’s strong tongue command their kiss, teasing and sometimes forceful, her hands keenly feeling as much of Miranda as she could manage. The narcotics of eagerness were throbbing in all the veins that mattered, the music adding to the sensation, the walls obeying the reverb behind her.
She broke free for an instant to look into the eyes of her stranger. They were both panting, waiting, the blonde’s hand still searching her body, beginning to slide down beneath her skirt as she stared into her eyes. Miranda was feeling weak, jittery, ready to explode and she closed her eyes. She felt the woman gently slide her hand from out of Miranda’s skirt so that she could guide her to an even more secluded spot with a booth.
“Sit down dear”. The woman said in a thick voice, gently pushing her down in the seat and sitting down heavily beside her, almost on top of her.
It had only been two drinks, but the combination of those and the spitzy lights, echoing dark, unstoppable hands was making Miranda light-headed, and somehow hungrier at the same time. She opened her mouth to utter something, but all she got out was “I…”
“Be quiet little girl” Was all the woman said and began to devour her.
The music was loud enough that Miranda’s moans turning into cries weren’t heard even if her facial contortions were well understood by the few close enough to observe them. She did nothing to stop the hands that easily pried her legs apart, and then fingers pulsing into her while other fingers massaged her clit. The woman, feeding on her neck, her body covering her hand’s exploits, felt in and around Miranda’s pussy in ways Miranda had not yet felt, and her throat began to hurt with her intensified breathing. Her head was leaning back against the upholstery of the wall facing side and she knew she was climaxing, felt tingling in her hands and the skin on her face. In the middle of the sexual trance, she opened her eyes and noticed a few couples at the side bar cautiously watching, forgetting their drinks. She was falling back into closing her eyes as she felt her orgasm approach, but just as she was about to fade into the height she spotted a face she knew. It was too late, however, and without being able to stop herself, she cried out silently as the intense wave of pleasure hit her, wave after ebbing wave. Her stranger slowly abated the massage and offered a lingering soft kiss that Miranda returned, but while she did she opened her eyes to get confirmation on whom she had seen. David was still there at the far side of the bar, looking down at his drink but two more seconds and he was looking back at her. Quickly she turned her head. Her body tensed, and the woman drew back.
Stranger smiled. “You’re like a cat”. She said. “You love the pleasure but you’re fucking skittish”.
Miranda smiled sheepishly. “This is not my usual thing”. She said, feeling lame and old all of a sudden. And tired. She could feel David still looking their way and wondered if he recognized her. Wondered if she wanted him to. No, she did not. She looked at the pretty blonde then, and marveled. She did not feel like returning the favor. Selfish me, she thought, but the blonde seemed to read her mind.
“My name’s Lex.” After she stopped the embarrassed Miranda from making excuses to extending the night she handed her a business card. “Call me any time you want.” She hesitated before getting up. “The man at the bar?” Miranda darted her a look and Lex nodded. “He’s here several times a week and never does too much–doesn’t talk to the girls that approach him, and there’re a lot obviously”. Her eyes said “get me?”
“You know a lot, Lex”. And Lex smiled before she sailed out the door or to another part of the bar, Miranda didn’t know. She waited a few minutes and went home herself, not looking back at David, not knowing what she was hoping.
David went to Heist all the time, but rarely got to see what he had seen tonight, certainly not to such a great conclusion. It had not lasted very long, but it was enough to make his shower that night more entertaining. Something had been familiar about the dark haired girl. Woman? Too dark. And she had looked at him as if she recognized him, and she had looked at him several times. Where had he met her?
By Monday Miranda had gotten Friday night out of her system. She had spent many hours on Saturday and Sunday dancing between fantasies of the twins, exchanged glances with David and the relived ecstasy with Lex, all of which gave her ample material for the satisfaction of masturbation. So when the work day hit, she was ready for it, put on her usual work clothing and demeanor, and headed in.
But it was a bleak day, no David who she had expected to see, whose image now regularly sent desire pangs through her body, whose countenance at Heist had unnerved her but also made him more human, attainable in her eyes. She sat at her desk, did some work, checked her clock, nibbled at lunch and robotically answered any questions. Why the haste for a man who wasn’t there?
But David was there, just elsewhere in the building getting shit fixed, and there was a lot of it for a Monday. Most of it usually hit Fridays. He didn’t spend too much of his weekend thinking about anything he saw at Heist because it was just a show to him, and he’d watched it many times from his comfortable spot at the bar. He wasn’t even sure why he went since he almost never talked to anyone or took up any offers. He just wasn’t sure the women that approached him were the kind he wanted to fuck, but if it was just that, a good night of fucking, why the hell not? He puzzled himself.
Only once or twice did he think of the wild, pale white beauty he’d seen get it on with another pretty thing. He had not watched a woman come like that–at the hands of another, and live instead of part of a porn movie. It had made him rock hard while he had watched her face contort, her body quivering in the dark. Something about her eyes.
Miranda finished her day as usual, and got in the empty elevator. She wasn’t phased. She couldn’t expect to see him every time she got in it. As she reached the basement she thought about making steak for dinner and maybe having chocolate cake for dessert. She smiled at that, and then frowned since she did not want to smile at the thought of food. Or her cats. She wanted to smile at the thought of having people, family, company. It was starting to get to her. When the lift stopped, the door did not open right away, it was glitchy she knew. She felt annoyed and pressed the open button. After too much hesitation it let her out into the lot. She caught her breath because she saw David getting into his mustang. Her click clack steps or her inhale or all the noises that made up Miranda caused him to look up and their eyes locked. A lot can happen in a second or two and Miranda saw him registering something? Or just recognizing her from the office?
Panic struck her. She nodded uncomfortably at him since her hands were full. “Uh, hi David”. Fuck she’d said his name. This new horror made her feet finally start moving in the direction she needed to go, but not before she heard him say “Hey” in a drawn out way that she thought sounded confused. Confused that she knew his name, no doubt. She drove home and never had steak.
David did not know what to make of the weird girl in the Accounting Dept. who knew his name now. That wasn’t the weird part, and he had liked hearing it come out of her mouth. Maybe she was not a scared white woman, just shy. This intrigued him. He tried to picture her now as he watched TV, thought about her thin frame, her dark haired pony tail he thought was cute even if the whole get-up was off somehow. But her eyes spoke the most, and tonight they’d only looked at each other but it felt familiar. he shook his head and went back to his detective show, a small frown on his face.
He woke the next day from a dream that had left him sweaty, his sheets damp, his cock hard. Not unusual but a cause behind it. Enough of a cause that he did a little homework on his accountant friend and felt better armed for his next encounter, which he decided to arrange. He whistled once or twice during the day while he made broken things work.
Miranda saw David a lot that day, and he walked through her arena often, almost always glancing her way to then catch her looking at him. He did not smile after the first time, but gazed into her eyes until she looked down at her work and shuffled what didn’t need it. She felt uneasy but excited, and the softness between her legs stayed wet all day, a very deep ache never subsiding. All she could think about was getting home, diving under her sheets and rubbing her very hungry clit.
By the end of the day she was ruination, her eyes feral. She grabbed her things and headed to the elevator, this time actually hoping she would NOT run into David. When she landed at the basement, the door didn’t open as the night before and she let out an exasperated sigh. “You piece of shit” She said not too loudly and hit the door with some force. “You..” But she trailed off as the door opened to reveal David standing immediately outside the door, looming, staring.
He smiled politely. “Miranda” was all he said while nodding, and proceeded to walk in even though she had to get out. He did not move aside, but blocked her. He had said her name. She looked up into his eyes and those eyes were close, deep, piercing. Maybe she’d faint.
“Um, I have to get out and…” But the door was closing behind him. He had said her name.
And then they weren’t moving.
And when she looked up into his eyes, they were waiting. Curious. Stern, but not ungentle.
She couldn’t stop herself. “Umm…” as one last attempt to illogically break free from something she desperately wanted.
“I don’t think you’re going anywhere right now, do you?” Casual question, not threatening, but his approaching her made her heart hammer, her groin burn. Her mind brought her to thoughts of Heist, of him looking at her. Like this.
He was now close enough so that he reached up and pulled the elastic from her hair so that it came down around her face, and she looked up at him in partial fright and partial challenge.
“I see the wild in you”. He said. “I see it all over you. And the door won’t open until I open it. But I’ll open it if you ask me to”.
That was all it took for Miranda to let out a low, guttural sound of need and begin to sway, where he caught her with one arm and grabbed the back of her neck with the other, pulling her face to his in a hard kiss that softened slowly so that he could pry her lips apart with his tongue and control her mouth with a skill that made her obey. Her arms dropped her bags and she pulled his torso against her more closely feeling the steel of who he was, what she’d always known he was.
She was breathing hard, but so was David, his hands getting rough, yanking her blouse from out the top of her skirt as he felt her shudder, making his dick painful inside his jeans and he pushed one of her hands to it, holding it there until she reacted, held the immense protrusion through the denim, felt the dome trying to break free. She ripped back from him, and he watched her, starting to feel a little tipsy himself.
She quickly undid his belt, carefully unslid his zip as she squatted, and eased down his pants. She took a deep breath at the sight, teetering and nearly falling back, but she reached tentatively with her hand to touch him, the hot beautiful steel in front of her, now wanting nothing more than to put it in her mouth. Forgetting the rest of him was there, she pulled her mouth to it, enveloping it as greedily as she could, caressing it, sucking it in full and then licking it up and down as she caressed his balls with one of her hands.
David looked down at her as one of his hands massaged the back of her hair. He was falling for this strange bird in a heady way. But he also didn’t want to miss out on looking at the rest of that pale body, of the softness her tits promised beneath her clothes, so he pushed her head back gently. “Get up against the wall.” He said roughly. “Take off your clothes”. She seemed to hesitate. He stepped out of his own pants on the floor while he said “Now” with a small sideways nod of his head that added a shade of question to the order. That he wanted her to be willing. She did as she was told and was very soon completely naked against the back wall of the elevator. She thought she heard someone outside talking about a stuck elevator, but she tuned it out, concentrating on what she knew was coming and on looking back into eyes she had come to adore. Deep and brown like his glorious skin.
“Please” She heard herself say. “Please.”…merely a whisper, but David didn’t need to be told. He had just wanted to take in her body, which he did and then his head dove to suck one of her breasts, sucking hard, beginning to slide a finger inside her as he did. Her cry grew louder as he slowly finger fucked her, tantalized by her sleek wetness. His own cock was not as patient as he wanted it to be and he decided enough was enough, that his cock couldn’t wait much longer and time was probably limited. He never stopped his finger until his own length was there to replace it and when he did Miranda stiffened, her head snapping back. But instead of a louder cry, the force of penetration seemed to bring immediate silence, her eyes closed, her face strained in agony. Maybe an inward scream, David realized as he watched her.
He felt more domineering than he’d ever at the helm of this pale skinned woman, got intense satisfaction as he went in and out of her, watching and hearing her losing control. He was grunting to his own waves of ecstasy, thick quick and thick quicker. When David watched Miranda come he immediately began his own release. She was at beauty’s height, her eyes blasting open and staring into his and then they were both panting, she leaning on him feeling happy to have his torso encircled by her legs. Feeling powerful and bashful at the same time.
As she eased off of him, David helped her down and he took note of the wild woman withdrawing into herself. He did not want that to happen, at least not with him.
“Don’t you go anywhere Miranda”. He said. She looked up at him with a question in her eyes. “You don’t have to hide your wild with me. And you really shouldn’t hide it at all.” She was still looking at him. He went on. “Plenty of people disappear all day long, but you’ve got the spirit not to. It’s not useful to disappear.” She seemed to consider this and then smiled widely, an expression he hadn’t yet seen, startled and pleased him.
“OK” was all she said as she put her clothes back on. She remained silent and he didn’t like that either. But people don’t change overnight. He made quick work of opening up the door, and when it did there were no longer people milling around, and all of a sudden Miranda didn’t know what to say.
“You going to Heist today?” He asked. She threw him a quick look and smiled again.
“What’s the point?” She asked. “I got this evening what I would have gone there for”.
“Fair.” David paused. “You want it again?”
They had not moved from outside the elevator, and it seemed neither wanted to break at this point. There was a momentum that might dissolve if the next time they saw each other was in the morning.
“Of course I do. But maybe we get some dinner first.”