She had broken his heart again. He knew this time he would never be whole. It was one of those things similar to losing one of your senses and the lesson he took from this last time was that there’s no sense in love.
He’s at the bar. Dive away from home. He doesn’t want to run into anyone he knows. Not tonight. He’s sitting on a stool slightly off center. There are a half dozen other souls, just as broken. This had become their communal fortress of solitude long ago. Time has worn their laughter into cackles and their voices are worn in as they trade pieces of their lives with each other, aimlessly.
His back is slouched, elbows on the bar. He’s peering at the bottom shelf of liquor. The mirror behind it gives an illusion of plenty and of depth. He’s staring as if he’s given up on finding answers.
Glossy black stilettos walk into the bar. Her dress is skin tight. She’s got her leather on where she keeps her black Prada wallet. Everyone looks her way, only a couple stop and stare. It’s like this everywhere she goes through, and there’s always one or two who like to roll the dice. But it’s snake eyes tonight. She’s aware of them but doesn’t give them the time of day. It’s the one at the bar, the one that didn’t care enough to see the fuss walk in that has her attention. She knows a tormented soul when she sees one and she knows what torment can do.
She walks to the end of the bar. The bartender follows and she orders an old fashioned and the big bald man comes up saying, “Drinks on me tonight.”
“Buzz off,” she says.
Dean takes a look, and then a second look before deciding he’s in no mood to try. He knows he won’t be for a long time after this.
But he looked. He looked twice and she saw it. She takes the seat so there’s an empty stool between them. They’re both looking towards the shelves without a word between them. He knows she’s watching him even though she’s not. She knows he’s doing the same. A minute goes by. He picks up his drink and takes a sip. She glances and does the same. Another minute.
Both of them could feel each other there. The silent attention is visible by any of the other empty souls that look their way. To each other, their presence is palpable. A magnetic current emanating between them however mild.
He gives her a slight sideways nod, she looks, then he says, “Not much for company tonight.”
Her chin’s almost resting on her shoulder as she replies, “I can tell,” before turning back to her drink.
He’d have let it be at that, but her lack of denial tugs at him although he pushes it aside. He downs his drink, and taps on his glass with two fingers and the bartender obliges.
The bartender’s still holding the bottle as he turns to the girl asking, “You want another.”
A brief moment of thought before she nods her head. He makes it in the same glass with a heavier pour. “Your tab?” he asks looking to Dean.
A tired sigh. Then, “Sure.”
“Buy me a drink, now I’m obliged to talk to you,” she says running her red polished fingertip around the rim of her glass without looking at him.
“Or maybe you’re obliged to stay quiet.”
Men don’t get away with talking to her like that. At least not usually. But she’s been here before.
The world’s feeling a little lighter to Dean now. He’s looking at her through the mirrored wall. Not really looking at her but this shell she’s brought with her. She lets him. He’s starting to feel better about himself. She lets him making sure it doesn’t come up too far or she’ll leave.
He reaches into his back pocket. She pockets her wallet. He throws some bills on the table and walks towards the exit. She’s watching; feeling eyes on her and it makes her stomach turn. She flushes but no one notices under the red bar lights and it makes it run even deeper. He stops right before the exit for an instant, then walks out the door. She gets up and follows.
When she makes it out his cigarettes already lit and the little, gold colored cardboard box is open as he holds it out towards her. She takes one and their eyes meet for the first time but only for an instant. Cebeci Escort Another flush, a slight flexing in his gut.
“Where we going?” she asks.
“Yours,” he says.
They stand apart finishing their smokes when their ride arrives.
The driver can feel it too. The smell of liquor and smoke, the silence that must remain.
They pull up. It’s a nicer place than he expected. They see each other for the first time under bright lights as they wait for the elevator. They’re just what they need.
On the ride up he asks, “Live alone?”
Her legs rub together just a bit as she’s looking ahead at the door. He’s looking at her now, but there’s no response.
“Alright,” he says with a monotone gruff in his voice.
He’s watching her now as she opens her door. They step inside.
He turns her around and pulls her in, hand on the small of her back.
She puts a hand on his chest and softly says, “Not yet.”
His eyebrows raise as he lets her go and watches her walk away. She disappears down the hallway and he stands in her living room taking it in for a moment, the tidiness of the place, the little luxuries, before he follows.
By the time he reaches her bedroom, she’s walking into her bathroom. She shuts the door behind her. Her room is pristine. There’s a vanity mirror with expensive perfumes. He tries to remember if she has a smell, but it eludes him as he sits on her bed, facing the door. He hears the toilet flush and the running water being turned off.
She struts out and stands in front of the bathroom in a wide stance and a gleam in her eye. But that’s not what catches his attention. In fact the first thing he looks at when she steps out is her hair; bunched up in two little ropes are pigtails.
He’s never liked pigtails. In fact he finds them a turn off but before the thought of leaving could finish itself she walks over to him. She looks down at him as if to size him up. His head is tilting as he looks up at her, eyebrows scrunching. There’s only the smell of cigarettes and liquor.
She’s still wearing her stilettos and she turns on her heel and walks over to the vanity. A drawer opens, the sound of wood knocking as it reaches it’s end is somewhat loud in the quiet room, though it’s somewhat muffled through drunken ears.
She pulls out a small wooden box and pulls out a mirror and a little baggie of white powder. Dean recognizes it. He’s been clean for over a year now. Then again, he’d been sober too. Little white lines are drawn on the mirror and she bends over and snorts twice.
His jaw juts then clenches as he watches her. She tilts her head back and snorts some more, plugging one nostril at a time. She hands him the straw, and he looks at her with disgust. She smiles for the first time.
She brings the mirror over and sits beside him. There’s disdain in his face as he looks down at the little mirror, the ceiling behind the reflection. Then he bends down and snorts.
She puts down the mirror and she takes his face and starts to kiss him. For a moment he just lets her. Then he kisses her back. They’re passionate deep kisses. Not quite what he was expecting.
But then his hands are all over her. Squeezing at her breasts, feeling down her waist through the thin stretchy cotton before making his way to her back and pulling down the zipper.
She pulls her arms out of the sleeves as she looks at him lustfully. She gets down on her knees and puts something in her mouth before unzipping and pulling his member out.
It’s not as stiff as he oughta be, but they both know it’s from the liquor and cocaine. Their hearts are racing as she strokes him until he’s stiff enough then she puts her lips to the head. He feels how tightly she’s pursing her lips as she glides down slowly before pulling back out. He sees there’s a condom on.
His mouth opens a little as he tilts his head. Then he smiles and so does she.
She pushes her face all the way down until there are pubes tickling her face, balls on her chin. The back of her throat is numb Kolej Escort and she grins fiendishly. Her eyes are wide open looking up at him. His jaw drops when she pulls out running her tongue along the base of his shaft before she dives in again. When she pulls out she kisses there’s a slurp against his tip then she says, “You know what they’re for.”
Then there’s just the head in her mouth. Her tongue is sticking out as she looks up at him expectantly.
He has a hand on her head but still it takes a minute for it to click. A long moment before he realizes what she meant. Then he realizes what she wants. What they both want. She grabs her pigtails and starts thrusting.
The condom weakens the sensation, but for her it helps it slide down easier. As the speed increases she feels it sliding in and out of her throat, the way it makes the spittle bubble up like a plunger. She pulls back and gasps before he pulls on her hair again and continues the reaming. The sensation isn’t pleasant but she loves it all the same. She feels the wetness through her lace thong as she reaches down to touch herself.
When she pulled back, the smile was gone and mascara had run down her face. The condom was hanging off his cock a couple of inches, but he was rock hard looking at her like this. Pigtails a mess, dress hanging around her waist with her see through lace lingerie.
She yanked the condom off his dick, and put another one on with impressive speed. The semblance of a smile spread across her face as she told him, “The safeword’s ‘shadow man.’ Understand?”
His eyes were impenetrable as he looked at her and let a grin come across his own face. “No gags then?”
“How else will you hear me scream?”
They both took another line then she laid on the bed and spread her legs, sharp high heels in the air. His face was pompous as he looked down at her. She squirmed. He took his clothes off, one garment at a time as if he had all the time in the world.
He crawled towards her and got on his elbows moving her thong aside. A lick from her pussy to her clit. She shuddered then giggled.
“You here to eat sushi or fuck me?” she said.
Indignity on his face and then a chuckle. He crawled up and held himself upright, then stayed on his knees looking down at her. A hand on her throat. A stifled gasp. Then he brought his hand down across her face just hard enough to get her attention. She let out a moan looking up at him with sex in her eyes. “If I’m hungry I’ll eat.”
“Alright,” she said, “But is that all you got Mr. Shadow?”
A smile now as he reached down, gentle fingers rubbing her clit. Her breathing quickened. “Harder,” she whispered. He added pressure and picked up speed. Her moans increasing. Pressure. Louder. Then she arched her back and convulsed.
“That was easy.” He said.
“Then we’ll play harder. Now do what you came here to do.”
Holding himself, he thrust inside her. She gasped then said, “How rude,” as her body bounced up and down, breasts jiggling, still in her bra. He yanked it downwards so only one breast was cupped.
He spit on her. A gasp. A slap. “You hit like a girl.”
He kept on pumping into her. Her legs wrapped around his thighs, stilettos pushing into his skin, she pulls, nearly kicking. Thrusting, in and out. In and out. He went harder and she was moaning, both of their breaths fast, little huffs on each other’s skin.
She pulled a hand back and slapped him hard across the face. He turned back and looked down at her angrily, and she met his glare. He understood and pounded harder into her, the sounds of hips striking, vocal breaths and the slush of wetness the only sounds that really mattered or existed to either of them. Panting, wetness slapping, groans of pleasure. A rhythm inside her as he fights to feel. When she saw it in his face, she reached back and slapped him again. He grunted, let out a flustered shout and hit her back, this time with fervor.
She moaned and said, “That’s more like it.”
So he hit her again, and said, “Shut the fuck Yenimahalle Escort up you willful slut.”
She grinned.
He lifted a leg and put it on his chest, biting into her calf and straddling the other; his balls rubbed against it as he slid in and out, in and out. This time her moan was more guttural with her head titled back. He put a hand on her throat and squeezed. Her face started to turn red and he picked up pace, grunting as he thrust. In and out, in and out, pigtails flopping wildly, the shoe in the air hanging on before falling off.
He grit his teeth and let go and she gasped and panted, tits rising and falling. He hunched over, face down, sucking a nipple between his lips, flicking with his tongue. Nibbling. Her back arched, pressing her breast further into his face.
He reached down. Two fingers slid in easily into the wet mess. he curved it and started pumping up and down until her breathing quickened. Faster they both went. “Yeah that’s it,” she said with her breath. A slap across her face and a streak of mascara ran down the side of her face as she groaned deep, spurts of warm liquid gushing from beneath.
He pulled out the finger and rubbed a wet hand over her face, then put his fingers in her mouth. She sucked and he reveled in the way her tongue lapped around it.
He brought over the mirror. She grinned and snorted, and he took a bump for himself, putting the mirror on the nightstand next to them.
He stood on the bed, and pulled her by her hair, and she was on her knees with a little scream, face contorted, teeth grit. He hit her face with his cock and she opened her mouth. He fucked her face like it would make her cum. A moment to pull out and for her to gasp, spittle dribbling down her face, her tits, her rumpled up dress around her waist. Her hands were fists when he shoved it back in fucking to his heart’s content.
He used her hair to push her down on the bed, face down in a throwing motion. She let out a little cry. He slapped her hard against her ass. She jumped, another cry of pain. Holding her hips he pushed into her, then with abandon pounded away as she moaned. He reached forward and grabbed her pigtails once more, pulled them back as she groaned in agony. The way she let it out was deep and painful, so he held it there inside her before pumping away.
He leaned forward. His hips cupped her ass and he felt it digging into him as he put his arm around her throat. “You like that you little whore?” he said.
Long, drawn out and bumpy she responded, “Yes.” She was on all fours fighting for breath as he leaned into her, pumping, pumping, pumping. A slap. “Yes.” Another. “Yes.” Another. “Yes, yes, yes.” Then he felt her pussy squeezing at his cock, milking as she convulsed, back already arched, the moan coming from deep in her belly, long and extended.
“Oh,” he moaned. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moaned. She felt his cock pulsing, shooting spurts into the latex inside of her and she wished for that moment they were both completely naked. It was such an intense desire that she convulsed some more, shots of deep tingling sensation running through her body, wetness squeezing through every bit of tender pink skin.
He fell back onto the bed breathing hard, and she collapsed down, panting. She rolled over onto her back looking up at the ceiling. Her eyes were watering, ears ringing as she rolled onto her side gently touching herself, sucking in his softening member as they both let out little shudders.
She stopped and held onto her pussy as Dean pressed down on his cock and balls.
A brief trip to the bathroom later, she was laying back in bed as Dean started putting on his clothes. She watched him the sadness from earlier briefly exorcised along with her own demons.
He himself felt he’d be ok despite the hollowness he felt now accompanied by an itch. After he was fully dressed he walked over to the nightstand and poured himself another line. She watched him as he snorted.
“How much do I owe you?” he asked.
Her mouth opened but she stopped herself from flinching. She looked up at him and lifted her head. “It was good, what you gave me. So let’s just call it a hundred.”
Eyes locked on her he hesitated before he nodded, and pulled out a crisp bill and placed it on her nightstand. She tilted her head down, looking at the bill, nibbling on her thumbnail suppressing the urge to grin. Then he turned around and left.