Stories From The 6 Train

Jenny’s eyes barely flicke

r a bit of shock and she’s smiling, all saccharin sunshine. “Oh, sure then. I know your budget must be huuuuuge,” she says and I can tell that she’s a little disappointed at herself pushing that button.

Yeah, Jenny has no idea that I’ve got a 12-inch pole in my pants ready to get piped up her until she screams. I’m going to watch that perfect little mouth open up and hear all the low groans that build in her throat when my cock fills her up, air tight.

So I keep smiling.

“Sure thing, Jenny,” I say, letting my mouth linger on her name.

The way I lingered over her body.

Jenny

Damn. All day I’ve been showing swatch after swatch to Darren. He’s kept his eyes all over me but his mouth is spread wide in that acquiescing grin.

I won’t fall for it!

Except…I’m totally falling for it. I want to rub my body all over that smile like, like I’m some kind of wild animal! I want to be able to feel him all over me again.

I show him another putrid lime green paint chip and I think I might barf the same color on it.

And when I show him the fire engine red plastic chairs with holes in them, I think, god, my face must be the same shade of red. I know the AC is running, this is a multi-million dollar tower. The temperature is so controlled.

But mine isn’t. I can’t handle the effect that he’s having on me.

“So you think the lime and the red work together?” I say, dropping the paint chips and the catalogs of shitty furniture that would hurt a blind man’s eyes.

“Cherry limeade,” Darren says, raising an eyebrow and regarding me.

“Fine, fine, I just can’t take this anymore!” I shout out. I didn’t mean to have quite so little chill…but I do need to release all this tension right now now. “That stuff you were doing with your mouth,” I say, turning away from him. I want to walk in the opposite direction but I can’t. I can’t bring myself to. My feet seem to be magnetized to the ground, propelling me to stay put when I want to run away.

But there’s really no escape. I chose this. I even want it now. So why does my mind race with such resistance?

Oh no. I know why. I know that every time I see Darren playing my games just as well as me, I start to see him as fun. When I see wicked thoughts play out in his mind, I want him to play them out on my body. I need him, ache for him to touch me. I don’t know what I want. I mean, I know what sex is…but I have the topic sentence, like we learned in school. I need all those little supporting details to fill in. I need him to fill me up with every desire that’s billowing behind his powerful presence.

Right now, He’s not saying anything. He cracks his knuckles, looks to me. I know that he’s going to make me say more.

I did all this…well, now I have to earn that..whatever that is.

I shakily pick up one foot, then the other. I walk toward him, stepping over the pile of shit that I dropped. I don’t care about any of that crap, and neither does he.

I sit on the conference table in front of him. This room looks absolutely hideous after what I have done. He’s sitting in one of these crappy chairs and he stands out like the rest of the world is made of a mannequin and he’s the real deal.

Darren is the real deal. He’s a real man. He’s so fucking gorgeous the truth is that I almost trip on nothing — after all those catalogs — and have to grip the edge of the table tight. I want to be able to ask for what I want with some dignity but I don’t think that I have it in me.

“I want you to do that stuff with your mouth,” I say in a low voice. “I want you to do more,” I say with a gulp.

Oh god.

What if he turns me down?

What if he makes me beg?

What if he does exactly what I ask?!

I am pretty sure that these are the kinds of thoughts that lend credence to that whole idea that women are hard to understand. I mean, I agree right now. I am having a hard time understanding what I want right now.

“You want my lips on you?” Darren says. His hands reach out and grab my wrists.