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My prediction had been correct. Ada wailed like a banshee as she trembled with a bone-shaking orgasm. The sound she made wavered like she was sitting on a washer during the spin cycle. Were it not for the top-quality soundproofing, I would have covered her mouth to keep concerned neighbors from calling the police.
“Cum in me,” she panted.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, please cum in me.”
After she came, I kept going until I was ready to cum, delivering a massive load deep inside her. I hoped that she agreed with me about having a baby together. I stayed inside her for a long time. Ada actually reached back and physically stopped me the first time I tried to pull out. I wasn’t about to complain. I loved being inside her.
Finally, we separated. Except Ada kept hold of my cock. She got on her knees at my feet and sucked me clean, continuing on until she had sucked me dry, taking my entire load in her mouth. My good girl swallowed it all down.
Ada hadn’t brought her car, so I called one for her. I didn’t call just any old car service, but my private driver who I paid enough on an annual basis to keep her very happy about being on call. She was a good kid in any case and one of the few people in the world I would fully trust with my sweet Ada.
When she was safely away, I got dressed and prepared for another day at the lab. Though I was genuinely hard pressed to think of a better way to start the day than the way I had just had. I also planned to have many more days just like it.
From what I could tell, the presentation had gone really well. I actually didn’t realize at that point that a large part of the decision as to whether or not to invest in Greene Planet fell to Ada’s judgement. I had barely known that she worked there let alone that she was one of the main analysts.
Much as when we were younger, I liked to focus on more positive and interesting things like her artwork, which also seemed to be going really well. I was really glad she was doing it as well as her corporate job. Despite it being what her dad would have probably called ‘a suit job’, seemed to really fit with her skills. Ada’s math skills were almost on the level of mine. In fact, they might have been even stronger. It was actually really difficult to compare because we used such different styles, but the fact was we both had a preternatural knack when it came to numbers and their analysis. Ada used hers to pick sticks. I used mine to design things.
I didn’t have art to cleanse my palate and save my soul, but I did have music. Unknown to Ada, and mostly to the rest of the world, I played bass in a local metal band. We were no Dante Street Massacre, but we were starting to get some good buzz and even went on the occasional tour. Usually only as far as Rhode Island or Vermont, but it still counted.
We were even gearing up to record an album. It would be a digital release, of course. No one really listened to physical records anymore, but from what I understood in terms of the studio process, it was pretty much the same. The band was still in a room full of mics and monitors getting yelled at by fat guys with long hair and the dress sense of teenagers whose own dreams failed decades before.
The band’s general aesthetic went more toward the French gangster aesthetic. At least the one presented by Jean-Luc Godard. We actually almost named the band A Band Apart, but Tarantino beat us to it and the English translation of the original title, Band of Outsiders, seemed a bit on the nose.
In the end, we decided to wear our absurdist philosophy on our sleeve and go with Thanks for All the Fish, shortened to T.F.A.F. and usually pronounced as tea-faff, in honor of the late, great Douglas Adams.
The lab was very much as I had left it. Amanda had straightened up, as was her habit. It was strange to think that for the last few years she was the closest thing to a friend I’d had. I guess I was more of a solitary sort.
Most of the people I connected with the best were those who shared at least some of my quirks. It therefore made sense that the people I associated with the most would be in the process of work, both in the military as well as the private sector.
Pulling out my stool, I did a final review of what I firmly believed to be the final draft of the design. At least I hoped it was. It was the version I had already sent to Greene to begin production. Any adjustments that might need to be made would go straight from me to the manufacturer. There was no need to upset Amelia unnecessarily. Just then, as though by magic, my phone started to do its little buzz dance inside my pocket.
