All That She Desires: The Stranger

by Melissa Morgan

"We can smoke it in here," he said. "I've got the windows open for the paint smell. If you want to smoke cigarettes though, I'd rather you went outside. That smell tends to linger."

  "Sure." She lit the joint, held in her first hit, and passed it over to him. "Is that why you need to find a new place?" she said as she blew out the smoke. "Did you lose your other place because you're broke?"

  He coughed. "I'm not broke," he said, coughing into his hand. "I just had to move." He took another drag, passed the joint back and exhaled. He closed his eyes and rolled his head back for a moment. "If you want to know, I'm going through a divorce, and I moved out of our place. I figured it would be easy if I just spent the summer here rent free, and then moved back to the city in the fall."

  "Oh, that sucks," Fiona said. "I'm sorry."

  He shrugged and took a sip of his beer.

  "On the other hand, fuck it, right?" she went on. "I mean, get out of it if it's not working, that's what I figure. I just broke up with my boyfriend a couple months ago. He was cheating on me. I always kind of figured, because he's such a player all the time, you know? You know the rapper, Gozzy J? I was going out with him."

  "I'm not familiar with him," Mike said. "I don't really follow hip hop."

  "It doesn't matter," she said. "Anyway, I've been with a bunch of shitty guys, and I've basically come to the conclusion that love is bullshit, and that most people are fakes most of the time. Which is a sad way to look at the world, but that's where I am right now. Even me. Totally fake. I'm so fake I don't even know what the real me is."

  "Man, you're heavy," he said. "That's so funny. I listened to some of your songs just now, and they're all these super-sweet love songs. They're like love candy they're so sweet. But you think love is bullshit."

  "Well, why do you think I feel like such a fake? I have to go all over the place and sing these stupid love songs, and I don't even fucking believe in love anymore. Hell, I don't even love my parents. They're a couple of pimps. They've been pimping me out to the music industry since I was like, twelve."

  They passed the joint back and forth until it was gone and then sat down at the kitchen table. Mike looked bleary-eyed. "Sorry," he said. "It's been a while since I smoked. I wish I could, I don't know, give you some really great advice about your situation. How old are you, anyway?"

  "Twenty-one," she said. "You?"

  "Twenty-five. I wish I could like, recommend some good coming-of-age novels for you or something. That's what it sounds like you need. You need some really good novels about young people rejecting the chains of society and finding out how to do what's true for them. I can think of some of those novels, but they're all kind of... male. I can't think of any good coming of age novels about young women. I'm sure there are some, but that's not what I look for, I guess."

  "You're high," she said. "I don't know either. I don't read much. My manager gave me a couple of these self-help books that he wants me to read while I'm up here, but I'm like, fuck that. I just want to get wasted and just... be nothing for a while."

  He shrugged. "Well, that's a form of self-discovery. It's very Zen. Just be nothing."

  "Cool."

  "It's too bad that you don't get along with your folks though," he said. "This divorce thing has been rough for me, and it's been nice to talk to them about stuff. It's nice to have someone on your side."

  "I don't really feel that way about my folks. They make me feel like a product or a brand, not a person. When I was sixteen my mom tried to talk me into getting breast implants, can you believe that? Like I didn't have enough body issues already."

  "That's terrible," he said.

  She nodded. "I cut them loose when I turned eighteen. They managed basically everything in my life, and I was able to basically fire them, which is sick, isn't it? I just fired them as my management team, hired other people, paid them off, and cut them out of my life."

  "Do you think you're better off?"

  She got a glass from the cupboard and poured herself a drink. "Not really," she said. "I'm a total headcase. But at least I don't have to feel like I'm being whored out all the time."

  "That's really messy," Mike said. "All the same, I'm glad you refused to get the breast implants. There's no need for a young girl to do that to herself."

  "Right," she said. "And so what if I've got small boobs? My music still sells, so who cares?"

  "I don't think the way you feel about your body should be related to music sales," he said, "and people shouldn't choose what music they like because of boobs. But you made the right choice anyway."

  "Right," she said. "I forgot, you've seen me naked. Do you think I need bigger boobs?"

  He laughed and shook his head. "No. You've got an amazing body."

  "You're very sweet." It was strange, but receiving the compliment from this man she barely knew, who didn't seem distracted by her celebrity, and who didn't want to fawn over her because of who she was, made Fiona feel very warm inside. Her legs were crossed under the table, and her thighs involuntarily rubbed together. She smiled at him.

  "What?" he asked.

  "Nothing," she said. "I just decided that you're very cute."

  "You decided?"

  "Yeah," she said, and they both laughed. "I decided."

  "Well," he said. "Well, thanks. I um," he looked at his beer, and drank down the last mouthful, "I'm just going to grab another one of these."

  When he stood up and turned toward the fridge, Fiona acted on a wild sudden impulse. She stood up and reached behind her back, unzipped her dress and shrugged it off her shoulders, letting it slide down her body to the floor. Mike turned around with a bottle in his hand to see her dressed the same way he'd seen her in the morning: naked, except for a pair of thong panties. And this time the thong was navy blue.

  "Whoa," he said. "What's this?"

  Fiona had butterflies in her stomach as she stepped out of the discarded dress and began walking toward him. "I told you," she said. "I decided that you're cute."

  She stepped up close to him. He didn't move away or resist, but just stood, watching her, looking her in the eye as the nearly nude girl approached him across the kitchen. She put her hands on his waist and stood close enough that her bare nipples brushed against his chest. He was slightly taller than she was, and Fiona closed her eyes and raised her chin, opening her mouth just slightly. Mike responded, kissing her, putting his lips gently against hers, letting them touch, push, caress, explore.

  As they kissed, she slowly pressed herself against him, and suddenly he was backed up against the counter. He reached behind himself to carefully set the beer bottle down, and then put his arms around her, putting his hands her back. Her skin was warm to the touch and sensuously smooth. Her lips pulled at his, and he felt her tongue slip between her lips. They kissed and her tongue entered his mouth.

  He squeezed her against him and let his tongue slide along hers. His entire body was coming alive. He could feel himself heating up, and he could feel his manhood swelling and throbbing inside his jeans. Fiona was pulling up his t-shirt, running her hands along his waist, his back, feeling his body.

  They broke off for breath and looked at each other. Fiona's lipstick was smudged, but she smiled up at him like she'd just had a taste of something she liked, and she wanted much, much more.

  Mike smiled at her. He didn't know what was going on, and he didn't know what this girl was up to, but he felt that whatever she was feeling at that moment was genuine. Maybe she'd just had too much to smoke and drink, but he knew they had come to this together, and there was no reason to go back. He wanted her now, and from her hands on his skin and the look in her eyes, he knew she wanted him too.

  He leaned forward and kissed her on the side of her neck, just below the ear, and began kissing and nibbling his way down.

  "Wait," she said. "Is there somewhere we can go? Does this place have a bedroom?"

  He smiled and kissed her. "Of course it has a bedroom. Come on."

  He led her to one o
f the doors. Inside there was a small room, dominated by the bed. He didn't turn on the light switch, but just let the light from the kitchen shine in.

  As soon as Fiona saw the bed, she crawled on. It was an old bed, and its metal springs squeaked, but it was very soft. She struck a pose for him, looking over her shoulder and smiling, enjoining him to climb aboard with her.

  "I feel weird mentioning it," he said. "I don't have anything with me, like, I don't have any--"

  "Protection?" she said. "I'm on the pill, so we don't have to worry about that. And I got tested after I found out Gozzy cheated on me, and I'm good. When was the last time you were tested?"

  "Oh, long ago," he said. "But I've only had sex with one partner for the last five years."

  "Right," she said, rolling onto her back and stretching. The smooth, graceful lines of her body were an artist's dream. "Your wife," she said. "Right?"

  "Right," he said. "My ex-wife."

  "Come here," she said. "I want to help you get laid after your divorce."

  Mike took a deep breath and exhaled. "Wow. Weird night." He pulled his t-shirt off and slipped out of his pants and boxers, crawling onto the bed to join Fiona. He lay down next to her, putting his hand on her flat stomach and leaning in to kiss her. Their mouths met, and she let his hand explore her firm body. Despite the ridiculously unhealthy lifestyle she'd shown him that day, she was clearly a person who usually took care of herself. She was toned and fit, slender, but healthy and robust at the same time. She was in the perfect bloom of youthful good health. If would be such an awful waste, he thought as he moved his hand from her hip up to her breast, if she were to let herself slip into the nihilism and self-destruction that was threatening her.

  And he felt a longing, equal to his desire to make love to her: he wanted to somehow save her without possessing her. He wanted to inspire her to save herself.

  At the same time he was thinking this, she was moving her hands on his body as well, touching his arms, his chest and down his stomach. Her hand reached down to find his hard-on, and she took in its shape and size, caressing it, handling it for her own pleasure as well as his. It was a nice size, a proper, regular guy cock that she could enjoy. Gozzy had been too large, and he had no sense of subtlety or tact. Fucking with him had been a matter of harder and faster, bigger, more. Mike didn't seem like that at all. She sighed with pleasure under the soft attention of his lips and hands, and let herself get carried away by the sensation of his hands on her body.

  Mike worked his was down from her neck to her chest. Her nipples stood out, stiff and tight. He touched his face to her breast, caressing her soft, smooth skin with his cheek. She squealed in response and grabbed his shoulders. "So ticklish!" she said. "Your beard!" Mike smiled and touched his cheek. He'd shaved that morning, but even so he could feel the stubble.

  "Sorry," he said, and placed a soft kiss on the underside of her breast.

  "It's okay," she said. "I'm just really sensitive."

  "I'll be gentle." He took her breasts in both hands and massaged them as he slid down, placing kisses along her belly. Fiona sighed luxuriously and rolled on her back. Mike moved on top of her and kissed across her stomach down to the waistband of the navy blue thong. He sighed with pleasure as he touched his forehead to her lower belly. It had been a long time for him, and even longer since he had the thrill of new contact, the excitement of erotic exploration.

  He ran his hands down her sides to the waistband of her thong. "May I?"

  "Why?" she teased. "What are you going to do?"

  Mike moved his head to the side and placed a kiss on her upper thigh, just by the edge of her satiny little panties. He traced his lips up and down, nibbling and licking along the tender skin, making her squirm with delight and desire until she finally pushed him back so she could spread her legs wide, allowing him access to her private areas. But still the thong remained in place, a final teasing barrier between him and her naked, open sexuality.

  He ran his cheeks along the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, and she giggled in response. The triangle of dark fabric lay right in front of his face, and he leaned forward against it, touching his face to her, feeling the contours of her body, moving gently around, stimulating her. He could feel her heat.

  Fiona's fingers slid in to pull the panties aside, exposing her sex to him at last. Her lips were puffy and downed with soft brown hair. The inner folds of her vagina were open, and her wetness was apparent. Mike placed a kiss at the top of her vagina and then slowly moved his mouth down, kissing and licking until he found her clitoris, barely protruding from her folds, ready for him.

  Mike reached under her thigh and around to the top of her pubic area, and with two fingertips he softly pulled the hood of her clitoris back, revealing the swollen bud. He licked it with the flat of his tongue, slowly sliding it along and she gasped, arching her back and grasping at the back of his head, holding him there.

  He continued, licking and licking, pleasing her clitoris. "Suck it," she said with hard breath, and he took the clitoris and its folds between his lips and sucked them, pulling them into his mouth, cradling her clit with his tongue and drawing her sex in. It was something he'd never done before, but her reaction, her arching, gasping, crying-out reaction told him that he was doing it right. He kept at it, licking and sucking, moving a finger to massage her opening until he felt her grip a handful of hair at the back of his head. Her body locked up and her hard breath came in sharp, staccato gasps as she came.

  At last she fell back, totally relaxed, her body twitching, like electric currents were running through her.

  "Oh," she moaned. "Oh, you got it."

  Mike smiled. He got up onto his knees and lifted her legs to slide them together, then began to work at sliding the thong around her hips and down her legs. He tossed it onto the bed beside them before moving back up to lie next to her.

  Fiona turned her head to face him, smiling and caressing his cheek. "I needed that," she said. He was on her right side, and she lifted her right leg, bringing her knee up toward her chest. Mike knew what she meant by it and moved in close to her, guiding his hard cock up into her wetness, pausing to rub the head of his penis back and forth along the slippery folds of her vagina before entering her. She cooed as he slid in and out, lubricating his length as he worked his way in, and then they were making love as he took her from the side.

  He rolled his hips back and forth, sliding in and out, and they gripped one another. They were face to face, cheeks touching, heads turning to kiss on the mouth. His hands moved, and one arm was wrapped tightly around her, his other hand ranging to massage her breast or caress her side. When he held her tightly, squeezing her left breast and kissing her neck she cried out, her eyes closed tightly, mouth open.

  She came, and Mike looked at her face and he couldn't hold back. His body jerked as he peaked, and he came inside her.

  They lay tangled together, eyes closed, breath ragged. At last Mike felt her hand on his cheek. He smiled and kissed her lips.

  *****

  Chapter Four

  Fiona woke up to the sound of crow's cawing in the trees outside Mike's bedroom window. Mike was still asleep, lying on his back and gently snoring. She carefully rolled to the edge of the bed, looked around to find her thong, and got up.

  Her dress was still on the floor in the kitchen. She slipped it on, collected her things, and slipped quietly out. It was still early, and there was a moist chill in the morning air. But the smell was fantastic. Fiona closed her eyes and took a deep breath through her nose, appreciating the smell of trees instead of car exhaust. It was so different here in the forest, with the smell of trees, but also the sound of birds instead of traffic. It was like city detox.

  She walked back to her cottage, enjoying the fresh air, and feeling free about doing the walk of shame up a gravel road with no chance of any stupid cameraman catching her.

  Once inside, she ate a bowl of cereal, showered and brushed her teeth, and went out on the fron
t deck. The lake looked inviting. She would have to swim today, but not quite yet. She'd spent some time thinking last night, lying there next to Mike. He had gone quickly to sleep, but she was used to drinking a lot more at night, and it took her a while to fall asleep. She thought about what she was actually doing with her life, and what she wanted to do. Mike's question popped into her head. He'd asked if she was going to work on songs while she was up here.

  She had never worked on songs. She had never worked on anything. Her entire career she'd been a puppet. She'd always been given stuff to sing, told what to do, been sent on tour, shown how to dance, given things to wear. A record company and a management team had run every facet of her career. And like she told Mike, she hated it. She hated her life. And since admitting that fact, she'd started wondering how much control she actually had. She'd been doing this since she was a child. The only serious career decision she'd ever made was cutting her parents out of her career. Since then, she'd relied on the record company people and Ken, her manager, even more. Her career was solid, if not peaking the way some of her contemporaries were.