by Abbi Hemp
“At least read the shit, bro. You can do that for me, right?”
“Yeah, I’ll read it. Thanks for the coffee.”
“Still a cheap bastard, huh?” he said then laughed.
I turned and walked to the door, already wrapped up in my thoughts. The image of her face when I first pushed my cock into her pussy flashed through my mind as I walked home, deciding what to do next.
SIXTEEN
Tyler
When I got back to my apartment, I called Harris, my old bunkmate in Afghanistan. We hadn’t talked in almost a year, but with everyone else from Afghanistan coming back into my life, I figured I should search him out too. Maybe he had the answers I sought.
“Hey, Tyler. Long time no hear.”
“Yeah, I’ve been laying low since I got out.”
“I hear you. What’s up?”
“Want to grab a beer? I’ve got some stuff I want to talk out.”
“Oh no,” he said, chuckling. “More of your crazy theories on the origin of the universe or why oranges are the perfect fruit?”
I smiled.
“You remember all that shit?”
“Dude, we spent so many hours together. Your stories and monologues kept me going.”
“Glad I accomplished something over there. Let’s grab a beer tonight.”
“I had some plans, but I’ll change them. Where do you want to meet?”
“Let’s go to that joint down Seventy-Fifth Street. What was the name?”
“The Irish Paddler?”
“Yeah, that was it. We met there before we shipped out. Remember?”
“How could I forget. One of the craziest nights of my life.”
“I don’t think we’ll get that crazy tonight.”
He laughed.
“That’s what you always say. I’ll meet you there around seven. That work for you?”
“Sounds great, Harris. Good to hear your voice.”
“Yeah, you too man. Later on.”
I ended the call. Afghanistan, even at the late stages of a war that had lasted longer than a decade, had been a place where lifelong bonds were formed for better or worse.
Was that why Mercy wouldn’t vacate my thoughts no matter what I tried? Maybe a night of drinking with Harris would eject her, and I would be able to move on.
I did not need a crazy woman in my life. No matter how much I enjoyed fucking her. After talking to Harris, my spirits were lifted enough to make the afternoon tolerable.
While reading an autobiography from a man who had served in Vietnam, I kept glancing over at my phone, thinking Mercy might call, but she never did. Fucking women.
* * *
Later that evening, I walked in the bar like I owned the place. It was pretty much empty, which wasn’t surprising for a Tuesday night. Most normal people who frequented bars had to work hard for their drinking money.
I saw Harris sitting at the bar and walked over. Taking a seat on a stool to his right, I patted his back as he looked in the other direction. He turned around and smiled the moment he saw me. We had been through so much together.
“How you been?” he asked then turned to the bartender. “Two glasses of your top-shelf single malt.”
“Not bad. Yourself?”
“Things went to hell after I got back from Afghanistan.”
I nodded.
“For me too.”
“You seem to be doing okay for yourself. I mean, you’re drinking on a Tuesday night.”
“Oh, I’m doing okay. You’re here too. Glad you came.”
“No problem.”
The bartender returned with our drinks. I pulled out a twenty and shoved it across the bar at him.
“Keep it,” I said.
He nodded his head then wandered down to the other end of the bar. I lifted the glass.
“To the family the government gives you.”
Harris grinned as he clinked his glass against mine. We both took a healthy drink. He set his down on the weathered wooden bar. I kept mine in my hand, staring at the ice cubes floating.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked. “I can see it on your face.”
“Remember that reporter chick who showed up and got kicked out by Captain Jeffries?”
“Yeah. What about her?”
“I looked her up.”
His face scrunched up in confusion.
“What?” I asked then finished the last of the alcohol.
“Roger called me all excited about a week ago. He said he found her and they were dating.”
“What?” I repeated as if the second incantation would give me more answers.
“She didn’t tell you?”
“No, she didn’t say anything. He didn’t either. I talked to him earlier today.”
He shook his head.
“That man is bad news.”
“Tell me about it. He wants me to go into business with him.”
“You have the money.”
“Yeah, but I don’t know if I can trust him, you know. And now I find out this. Maybe I can’t trust her or him.”
“Some days, man, it seems like everything was so much simpler in Afghanistan. I mean, it was more dangerous, but we knew what to expect, you know?”
I nodded.
“Definitely. Roger showed up after I looked her up.”
“And you figured why not add good old Harris to the list, huh?”
He laughed then finished the rest of his drink. I raised my hand to fetch the bartender for another round. Before it was finished, I had turned off my phone.
Fuck her if she tries to call, I thought, still unsure of what to think after she had flipped out after we fucked the other night. I did not need her kind of crazy in my life.
I had enough of my own crazy to deal with. More than enough.
Harris and I spent the night catching up, drinking and forgetting our problems. I parted ways with him after he picked up some woman with brunette hair and big tits.
On the way back to my apartment, I turned my phone on, thinking about giving Mercy a call and seeing if she was okay. When I saw no messages come in, I put it in my pocket and kept walking.
Maybe it’s for the best, I told myself. If this business opportunity with Roger turns out to be legit, maybe I’ll be able to have something in my life with actual meaning. Then again, maybe not.
Climbing the stairs to my third floor apartment, part of my daily routine for keeping in shape, my phone rang. I dug it out of my pocket and saw Mercy’s name. After half-a-second of consideration, I ignored it.
With liquid courage running through my veins, I didn’t see any need for her in my life. I had done fine enough without her. I would keep doing fine without her. Crazy isn’t something I wanted.
She appeared in my dreams that night, chasing and teasing me in a thousand different ways. I woke up the next morning with the hardest boner I’d had since a teenager.
What is that woman doing to me?
SEVENTEEN
Mercy
When he didn’t answer my call, I figured it was late, and he was asleep or doing something else. The next day, with each hour that passed, I became more obsessed with talking to him.
I still wasn’t able to explain my craziness after we had made love, but I was ready to try. He kept appearing in my thoughts. I had to give him a chance if he would have me.
After controlling my urge all day, I broke down after dinner and sent him a simple text message, “You around?” He answered with a simple, “Yes.”
“Can I come over? Talk?”
A minute passed. No answer. Then another went by. I fucked it up. He’s done with me. Right before turning my phone off so I wouldn’t stare at the screen all night waiting for him, it buzzed.
The text message contained an address across town, nothing more. My heart raced. While attracted to him physically, I wasn’t sure if he was the person I wanted to be in a serious relationship with.
Would he even be interested in having me as a
girlfriend? A million questions went through my mind as I rushed to my bedroom to pick out something to wear. I wanted to look sensual not slutty.
As I got dressed and freshened up, I thought about what to tell him. The truth is best, I told myself. Even if he wants nothing to do with you after it. But what is the truth about my feelings?
I told myself I was only going over to his apartment to talk and explain my actions the other night, but I wore my special red panties just in case things turned sexual. With a man like him, it was likely.
On the cab on the way over, I sat with my legs pressed firmly together, wondering if the skirt I’d chosen was too short. He probably already thought I was a crazy woman only interested in sex.
Did he think that’s why I was coming over? The questions swamped my brain, causing me to become even more nervous. Ever since losing my job as a freelance journalist, I’d had self-esteem issues.
My father had said I was crazy and needed to work harder, but after not even a week in Afghanistan, my life had changed dramatically, one thing crashing after another. And Tyler was connected to that.
Was that why I wanted to see him again so desperately? A hope he would have answers I’d not been able to find on my own? Only one way to tell. He’s either going to understand or be an asshole.
The cab arrived at his apartment. I paid the driver then got out, the wind whipping up and sending my hair in every direction. I rushed to his front door where a man in a nice blue uniform opened it.
“Welcome to Rosary Tower,” he said. “Are you here to see someone?”
He held a tablet in his left hand.
“I’m here to see Mr. Anderson. He’s expecting me.”
“Hold on a minute,” he said, scanning the tablet screen. “I don’t see your name.”
“Can you call him? I just talked to him half-an-hour ago.”
“Sure. Hold on.”
I watched nervously as he walked over to a desk and picked up a phone. Maybe I should just go. Like that night in Afghanistan and the other night, this is just another bad idea.
He walked back over with a smile on his face.
“Sorry about that, ma’am. I’ll walk you to the elevators.”
“Thank you,” I said. “What room is he in?”
“He’s got the entire top floor. Mr. Anderson is the king of the tenants here.”
I nodded.
“That’s right. I get so confused.”
He smiled politely, stopping as we reached two elevator doors.
“Here you go, ma’am. You have a wonderful evening.”
“Thank you again,” I said then walked into the elevator.
After the door closed, I took a deep breath. It was too late to turn back. Or was it? Mixed emotions made me dizzy as the elevator car rose toward the top of the three-story building.
When the elevator door opened, I stepped off into a small foyer. A door opened and Tyler walked out, a smile on his face and a robe covering his body.
“I stayed in the hot tub too long. Come in.”
“Hot tub, huh?”
He nodded, putting his hand on my back and leading me inside his opulent apartment.
“Nice place,” I said, glancing around.
“Thanks. After I came back from Afghanistan, I treated myself.”
“Mission accomplished.”
“Let’s go to the balcony and talk. You want to get in the hot tub?”
“No, that’s not a good idea. And I didn’t bring a suit.”
“Suddenly so modest?” He grinned. “Not a problem. We can enjoy the evening air and the symphony of the city.”
I tilted my head to the side.
“All the noises. I call it a symphony so it doesn’t seem as urban or bad.”
“Clever,” I said, following him across a grand living room toward a balcony bigger than my bedroom. “Wow, that’s quite a view.”
“I love waking up to this scene every morning.”
“I bet. It’s incredible.”
As I scanned the skyline in the distance, I wondered how much he was paying for such a nice place. Thoughts of the smuggling operation in Afghanistan, the story that had ruined my career, came rushing back.
We stood next to each other near the marble railing surrounding the balcony. He had his hand on the small of my back, making me feel safe and at ease despite all my nervousness.
“I’m sorry about kicking you out,” I said, looking at the street below.
“It’s fine.”
His hand slipped to my ass and squeezed it before moving back up. I turned to face him.
“Is that the only reason you want me? My hot body?”
I stared into his eyes, desiring the truth. He did not look away, meeting my gaze with one as equally intense.
“It’s one of the things,” he said then kissed me, ending any further discussion on the matter.
Here we go again.
We kissed as if we had been together for a million or more years, practicing for at least half that time. He knew exactly how to move his tongue and hold me why he did it.
I pulled back, getting too hot and heavy too quickly for my taste.
“Wait,” I said, putting a hand to my breast. “We should talk.”
“Talk about what?” he asked, walking over to a metal table in middle of the balcony.
I followed and sat down across from him.
“Everything?” I offered, not sure myself. “I’m so confused. After I got back from Afghanistan, everything in my life fell apart.”
“And you weren’t even a soldier or there for long.”
“Right. I mean, I like you, a lot, but I don’t want to bring you down.” I glanced inside. “It seems you’re doing well for yourself.”
“It means nothing without someone to share it with. Besides…”
His voice trailed off.
Is he hiding something?
“Go on,” I said, reaching across the table and putting my hand over his. “I’m a good listener.”
“You working on another story, are you?” he asked then chuckled.
I shook my head.
“No. I care about you.”
He took a deep breath, looking out at the night sky, his brow furrowed. What has got him so tense? My old journalistic traits took over for a moment.
“It’s in my past,” he said, looking into my eyes. “We all have checkered pasts. They make us who we are.”
“And who are you?”
“A man looking for a woman like you.”
“Just to have fun? For fucking only?”
“Not only, but it’s a good place to start.”
Under the table, I felt his bare foot running up my pantyhose.
“Mr. Anderson!” I said with faux shock.
He grinned, moving his foot to my thigh. I sighed, unable to fight what my body wanted. We would talk after. Words hadn’t gotten my anywhere in life in the past. It was time to have fun and experience life.
I scooted my chair back, the metal legs scraping against the cement. As I stood, I kept my eyes transfixed on his, mentally ripping that robe open. He got to his feet and closed the gap between us in an instant.
With his strong arms around me, holding me close, he forcefully kissed me on the lips. I gave up trying to fight, giving into my body’s wants and needs – him throbbing deep inside me. This will be the last time.
He backed up and took my hand, leading me inside the massive living room decorated in a modern style with lots of white. It looked clean, almost unused, opulent beyond words. The room made me feel safe.
We passed through the living room, me following a step or two behind him, his huge hand holding my dainty one. I stared at his ass, which looked marvelous even under the white robe.
In his bedroom, he stopped and turned, throwing his arms around me again. I reached into his robe, feeling he had no underwear as I wrapped my fingers around his thick cock.
This increased the intensity of his kiss immediately. He
moves his fingers to my blouse, unbuttoning it as fast as he could manage while still kissing me. I stroked and tugged, loving every feeling.
After taking off my blouse, he stepped back and threw his robe open all the way. I glanced down at his half-hard cock. It twitched a few times as I reached around to undo my bra strap.
When the fabric fell away, he stepped forward and bent slightly, sucking on one nipple while holding the breast with his hand. I ran my fingers through his hair, pressing him closer.
“Yes,” I said, so sure I wanted what was about to happen.
He moved to my other breasts, giving it as much attention. I undid my skirt and let it fall to the floor. A moment later, he rubbed his hand against the outside of my panties.
I moaned, loving the way he made me feel both inside and out. My body responded to his every touch, but my heart also fell for him beyond the physical level.
His kisses moved lower down my body. I felt his hands moving to my hips, pulling my pussy to his face as he got on his knees in front of me.
“Yes,” I hissed as he leaned back and pulled my panties down.
I stepped out of them, spreading my legs. He licked my outer pussy lips as his hand squeezed my ass, pulling me toward him. I closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation.
He teased me another minute or two, making me want to tell him all my secret thoughts. The more he licked, the wetter I became and the more I wanted him inside me.
I put both hands on his shoulders and pulled. He understood immediately, standing in front of me, his hard cock bobbing and weaving back and forth.
Before he made another move, I got to my knees, wanting to make love to that masterpiece with my mouth. While I rarely enjoyed sucking a guy’s dick, his was different.
I couldn’t explain it, but I didn’t care as I wrapped my lips around his thick shaft, taking as much of him into my mouth as possible. At the same time, I looked up at his face.
He stared down at me, this look of ecstasy and appreciation I’d never seen on a man before. With his hands on his hips, he looked like a Roman Gladiator or a Greek god of perfection.
While sucking him, I stroked the shaft with my right hand, really getting him worked up. I loved the expression of pure joy on his face as I ran my tongue over the sensitive spot under his head.