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But Spanish and Chinese? That was fucking impressive. The two languages are nothing alike and it only confirmed my assessment that there was a lot more to this girl than met the eye. Despite living in this humble apartment, she had to have a rich background because you can’t learn Chinese without going to some fancy immersion classes, without taking a trip to some Asian country. So I just whistled again.
“How’d you pick those languages up?” I asked. I expected the brunette to babble on and on about exotic trips abroad, how she had friends who lived in far-flung locales and went on fancy jaunts. But instead, she shook her head.
“Rosetta Stone,” she replied, referring to the tapes that any John, Dick or Harry could buy for a hundred bucks a pop. “I listened to the recordings over and over again until I was fluent.”
Now I was definitely impressed, revising my initial impression of the brunette. She’d been able to learn not one, buttwolanguages from listening to tapes? Holy shit, that put most college students to shame. And as if reading my mind, Laurie nodded.
“Yeah, we didn’t have enough money for me to go to college, not even community college, so I went the next best route. I bought some tapes with my savings and just kept listening to them until I was fluent. I practiced here and there with my neighbors, the people who owned a bodega on the corner, and soon I was good enough so that when I applied for a job with HRA, I passed the translation test with flying colors.”
I nodded, really impressed. Shit, Laurie was the real thing. I’d come in for a quick fuck because the woman was just my type with a curvy body and horny, slutty ways, but I’d stumbled upon a gold mine by accident. The brunette was smart, resourceful, sweet, and not at all stuck-up, helping new immigrants access public resources.
And I growled again, barely able to believe my luck, but I had no time to process it just now.
“Listen, what happened was amazing and I’d love to chat with you more, but I gotta fly,” I said, checking my watch. NYC Concierge tracked us with a fucking GPS service and they could always see where we were, how long we stayed at each stop. And right now, I was already way over my limit, if someone was watching there’d be some hard questions to answer once I got back. “I gotta jet, okay? It’s been great, but it’s my ass if I don’t.”
And the girl nodded slowly, watching with wide eyes as I hauled my massive form off the bed, fumbling for my boxers, pulling on the grey jacket and baseball cap. Yep, I was just the delivery man, anonymous in nondescript clothes. But I didn’t want this to be fly-by-night, so I leaned down and kissed her, pressed my lips against her soft, plush ones, the pink pout opening slightly, inhaling the sweet scent of her breath.
And fuck, but Laurie was so delicious, so curvy and nubile on that bed, still nude, still flashing her tits and cunt that I almost ripped off my clothes and jumped back in with her, ready to stroke, to take, to devour. But I couldn’t. Fucking Homer from Human Resources was going to be on me if I didn’t get my ass moving, so I forced myself to stride into the living room and pick up my bag by the door, the canvas grimy and careworn.
The brunette followed me out, this time wrapping herself in a bedsheet, her curvy form only highlighted by the swaths of cloth.
“Thanks for delivering my package,” she said softly, those caramel eyes warm, limpid, nodding to the brown box lying on its side on the floor.
And I bent to kiss her again, breathing deeply of the essence of this woman.
“No prob,” I rumbled, my eyes alive as I took in that sweet, sweet figure. “No prob at all.”
And just like that I was gone, taking big steps down the stairwell as the door closed softly behind me. But what Laurie didn’t realize was that I had every intention of seeing her again. I’d made my delivery, sure, deposited loads of my semen onto her, spraying that curvy form with creamy, viscous white … but I hadn’t gotten into her body yet and couldn’t wait to begin.
8
Laurie
Isat at my desk, my chin propped in my hands, staring at the gray acrylic fabric while seeing nothing.
“Laurie, Laurie, Earth to Laurie,” chimed my friend Tanya.
I sighed, spinning my chair around. Tanya stood in the doorway to my cube, her curvy frame propped up against one of the cube walls.
“Tan, you gotta be careful,” I sighed again. “These are cubes, not real offices. If you lean against the wall like that, it’s going to collapse and you’re going to be in a pile on the floor.”
Tanya snorted while twirling a piece of frizzy blonde hair. The gorgeous girl was one of my most beloved friends and had a funky style all her own. She mixed and matched her clothes, coming up with eclectic combinations that clashed but somehow worked. And she always, always wore a pair of statement glasses. Today’s frames were angular and purple, almost like goggles if you asked me but hey, that was Tanya.
And you couldn’t keep my friend down, especially not when she was feeling sassy.
“Good, if this thing collapses and I get injured, then I can file for workers’ comp and retire on the payments,” she snorted. But the blonde straightened, taking her weight off the gray fabric at least.
“How was yesterday?” she asked, a concerned look sweeping over her face. “Your move go okay?”
My friend was the only person at work who knew about the horrible betrayal by Gary, so she was asking with good intentions, inquiring into the fucked-up soap opera that was my life. But how to explain? That Gary had been blown out of my head, my heart, by one amazing experience with a stranger? That I’d let the delivery man come in and fuck me so hard, so thoroughly that I didn’t care about Gary anymore, my past be damned?
But that was hardly a PC answer especially with a million people buzzing away in the cubes around us. So I just smiled and said lightly, “Yeah, I survived. It sucked moving things five stories up without an elevator because I probably strained my back, but I survived.”
Tanya just laughed then.
“Tell you what, we both file for workers’ comp and then take a vacation together. How about it, hon? What do you say?” she asked, crossing her eyes at me.
I had to laugh then. We’d be such a cliché, government employees who milked the system for all it was worth, getting disability checks while sunning ourselves on a Caribbean cruise. But I knew my friend was joking so I giggled again.
