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Today will be the last Tasha will ever have with me.
Today I tell her, "Turn over. Face me." She is shaky. She doesn't respond.
Why is she afraid?
My cold demeanor aside, I would never even dare to hurt a fly,thereason those lions in our home are still fucking alive. It would have been better if they were actual lions.
I hold her by the waist and guide her to face the ceiling. She watches me with uncertainty as I lower myself above her. Quickly reaching for a condom on the nightstand, I sheath my length before I move into her with a sluggish thrust.
She almost doesn't believe it. She shakes her head and calls my name to be sure she is with the same man. "Carl?"
In the past, I forbade her to ruin the silence while we couple in pure heat.
Since today may be the final act of pleasure between us, I allow her the freedom of parroting away.
She doesn't disappoint. "Is everything alright? Did I do something wrong again? Are you… oh, you feel so good…" her voice finally trails off when I begin to move in a steady rhythm. Her tits are bouncing even with my slow pace. Tasha is beautiful, sexy, but I am not the man for her, and she has to accept that one way or the other. Tonight, I think I'll talk to her. Explain it to her all over again as I did in the beginning. I close my eyes, but I only seeheragain.
Her hair. Her eyes. The look on her face—I want her.
It's surprising but quiet grunts begin to leave my lips. I increase my pace, bending close to Tasha to swallow a nipple then the other in my mouth. As usual, she is saying many words, including my name in between her sentences. I slide a hand down and squeeze her thighs roughly then I reach down and swirl my middle finger on her clit. She screams and tightens her hold on my shoulder.
Now, I need to hear her moans. SoI hush her and begin to say whispered dirty words in her ear. I fill her thoughts with the images in my head of things I would prefer to do to her, things other than fuck her sweetly as a parting gift.
It's sad that as she ascends to the pinnacle, she cries out, “I love you, Carl.”
But I am not even there with her. I am thinking about a different woman, a new picture that is yet to be completed, but even half-baked, it's the only thing I will hold onto until I get the chance to see her again.
Emily
"Where would you like us to have our wedding, Emily?"
We are walking hand in hand down the quiet street. The lights from the restaurant have been turned off. From where we stand, I can see the staff building, as usual, in no pattern, light emanating from some windows while others are left in darkness.
They are not flashlights this time; the electricity has been fixed.Thank you, Mano Cuisine.Mike is awfully excited as we walk. I guess he is happy to know that I finally trust him enough to unveil my body to him.
I haven't been able to look into his eyes since the episode that played out by the lake. I can't help but wonder what he thinks of my body's lewd responses to his touch.
I don't wish to be so hard on myself. As it is, I am inexperienced, and the slightest effort he makes, I know will surely set me off. Tosomeone like Maya, she likens her sexual experiences to one of the basic necessities of life.
Shelter. Clothing. Food. And Sex.
Mike and I haven't exactly had sex yet, but the fact that he has taken me to the point of orgasm by just the friction of his fingers is enough to boost his ego and make him as happy as he is now.
Another phase of our relationship has finally been unlocked.All thanks to the man in the alley."Greece?" I suggest, and he laughs, twirling me around on the empty road. I laugh and slap his hands away. "Stop, you'll disturb the neighbors." He doesn't pay heed. He continues to swing me wildly until my head gets dizzy.
"Why Greece?" he asks and sets me down on the ground. I love it when he is boyish like this. When he arrives at the restaurant to bring the weekly supply of vegetables, he behaves like a man very much advanced in age. He frowns all day as he sets about his task of unloading the supplies from his truck.
Mike is a hard worker. A man who envisions a life much more comfortable than the one he has now, and this motivates him to keep pushing. Never have I seen him get depressed over his lowly background. I am sure that someday, he is going to quit his job as the restaurant's supplier and move on to something far greater than anyone could have imagined.
He is persistent. Smart. Highly productive, and humble to the core.
He opens up to me like I am the endless pages of his diary. Maya says men like to keep their feelings bottled up for some stupid reason, but Mike is different. Once Mike has a goal, he never stops talking to me about it. The majority of the time we spend together, he does the talking while I do the listening. I don't mind. I have nothing to say anyway.
All there is to know, he knows: I am 20 years old, was raised in a foster home, am now a chef at one of the best restaurants in a town with lakes all around, and I have a roof over my head. I have a friend and a kind lover.
That sums it all up.
I am not greedy. All that life has given me is enough. I won't beat myself up wanting so much more when I know there are people out there who would wish to have my life. Maybe I'll just let Mike do the dreaming for us while I forever remain a chef under a supervisor.
