The Mad Tatter

by J. M. Darhower

I stand there, watching, her body a mere shadow blending into the darkness. My eyes are glued to her silhouette, drinking in every drop of her milky flesh when the dim moonlight streams in on her from outside. It bathes her skin as her body contorts, her leg kicking so high it nearly points straight up in the air, her muscles taut, emphasizing the contours of her petite body. She's strong—a hell of a lot stronger than I realize—so graceful, and flexible, and beautiful.

  So goddamn beautiful.

  It doesn't last long before the music comes to a stop, silence falling over the room. Avery freezes on her tiptoes, her feet slowly sinking back flat to the floor as she drops her arms to her side. She stands there, breathing heavily, her eyes closed, a look of peace settling over her face.

  I've never seen her look so much at ease before. Confidence oozes from her pores. I push away from the wall and slowly stroll to her, my footsteps amplified in the quiet.

  Avery's eyes open when I pause in front of her, so close I can smell the hints of perfume that still cling to her skin. She stands before me, damn near naked, a light sheen of sweat coating her body, glistening under the glow of the moonlight. She regards me cautiously, the confident mask slipping, a hint of anxiety in her deep brown eyes.

  "So?" she asks, the word barely a breathy whisper.

  "So," I repeat, reaching out for her. This time she doesn't move away, staying still as I caress her side, my hand drifting along her stomach and up her chest, my thumb brushing against her hardened nipple. She shivers, a gasp escaping her parted lips when I do it again.

  And again.

  And again.

  And fuck if I don't do it yet again.

  Her body reacts to my touch, goose bumps trailing my fingertips wherever I touch her. I watch with fascination, lost in the moment, as I play her body like a fine-tuned instrument.

  "So?" Avery says again. "That's all you have to say?"

  My eyes drift to hers, seeing her anxiety has increased tenfold. Once more she bites down on her lip, her already flushed body growing redder.

  "Sorry," I say. "Your tits distracted me."

  Rolling her eyes, Avery pushes away from me. I chuckle, grabbing her hips and pulling her back before she can walk away.

  "Beautiful," I say. "Absolutely stunning."

  "My tits?"

  Fuck, just hearing her say that makes my cock impossibly hard. As if by instinct, my eyes drift back down to her tits. "I meant your dancing, but yeah… those, too."

  Avery laughs, wrapping her arms around my neck, some of her anxiety lessening as she gazes at me. "Thank you."

  "You don't have to thank me," I say. "I'm the lucky one, getting to witness it. I feel like I should've had to pay to see you do that."

  "You don't pay to look at art. You pay to keep a piece of it."

  "Huh." I lean down and softly kiss the corner of her mouth, my lips trailing along her cheek before drifting toward her ear. "How much is that going to cost me?"

  "To keep a piece?"

  "To keep all of it."

  "Depends," she says. "What have you got to offer?"

  What do I have to offer?

  "Not much," I admit. "I'm a college dropout and everything I have is either rented or leased. My most prized possession is my 1990s boombox with an extensive tape collection. I really have nothing else to my name. So if you're looking to barter, I could probably offer one of my kidneys. That's about it. I work twelve hour days but some months I barely break even, so, you know… if I can't get it on credit, I probably just can't get it."

  "Wow." Avery's eyes widen. "You sure know how to woo a woman."

  "Yeah, well, I also come with a three-feet tall sidekick. We're sort of a package deal… and I might be rough around the edges, but I like to think she's special enough to make up for it."

  "Hmmm, this is sounding better…"

  "Although, her mom's sort of a bitch, so it's not all roses and sunshine." I smile softly, gazing at her. "But if it helps, I'll throw in a lifetime supply of orgasms."

  "Sold!"

  I chuckle, pulling Avery tighter against me, my hands finding their way to her ass. "How about we get started on them now?"

  "Ah, I was right. You do know how to woo a woman."

  "I do," I confirm, pushing against her, making her take a few steps backward. "I also know how to make one scream my name."

  I pull Avery over toward the middle window and pick her up, placing her on the deep window ledge that stands nearly waist-high. Before she can say a word, I grasp the sides of her thong and pull it off, flinging it across the room toward the rest of her clothes. I settle between her thighs, stroking her skin as my hand makes its way toward her pussy. Leaning down, I capture a nipple with my mouth, my tongue swirling around it, as I carefully push two fingers inside of her.

  Avery lets out a moan, morphing into a squeal of surprise when I drop to the floor in front of her. My mouth finds her flesh, the tip of my tongue encircling her clit, as I pump my fingers in and out. I work slowly, agonizingly, warming her body up for me. Once I have her writhing, her back pressed up against the cold glass, her eyes closed, hands unconsciously seeming to make their way to her breasts, I know I have her.

  Curving my fingers, I feel for her g-spot, the simplest touch eliciting a loud gasp. I stroke the spot, increasing pressure, my movements faster, as my mouth finds her clit again. I suck on it, flicking my tongue with the rhythm of my fingers. It doesn't take long before she grows tense, a scream bubbling up in her chest that she tries to contain, bursting forth as a strangled cry as she convulses from orgasm.

  She never has time to catch her breath. As soon as her body starts to relax again, the pleasure subsiding, I stand up and unbuckle my pants. I grasp her hips, pulling her closer to the edge, not bothering to get undressed. With one swift motion I'm inside of her, the deep thrust making her cry out. She wraps her legs around my waist, falling back against the glass as I fuck her, taking no mercy on her body, giving her everything I can. Again and again, over and over, my hips slam into hers as I fill her deeply, the wet skin slapping like frantic pounding echoing through the studio.

  Avery cries out, orgasm ripping through her once… twice… three times. Her body never seems to have time to relax, never has time to recover, before I'm reaching for her clit again and rubbing in harmony to my thrusts. I stare at her, watching her come apart in front of my eyes, melting to a puddle of agonizing pleasure that only I am here to absorb. People walk by on the street, mere feet from where I fuck her, every single one of them oblivious to what's happening on the other side of the glass.

  That fact gives me a thrill like never before, driving me on. I want to come—fuck, do I want to—but I can't. Not yet. I'm not done with her. I push the feeling back, ignore the pressure building in my balls, the warmth spreading across my entire body, and focus on her instead.

  The fourth orgasm rips through her, the pleasure barely subsiding, her body just starting to relax, when I'm back at it again. Avery starts to speak, her lips moving, the words catching in her throat. All it takes is a few seconds and some firm strokes to drive her right back over the brink. Her mouth opens, a scream escaping, with it what I've been waiting for. "Reece! Oh fuck, Reece!"

  The moment she says it, I lose control, my own orgasm unable to be contained. I thrust a few times, grunting, hardly able to move as the intense relief washes through me. Stilling my movements, I lean forward, snaking an arm around Avery to pull her away from the glass. "Told you I could make you scream my name."

  "Oh God, no more," she says, her voice strained. Sweat coats her flushed face. "I can't come anymore."

  My other hand slips between us. "Wanna bet?"

  The moment my fingers graze her swollen clit, she gasps. "Oh God, you're going to kill me."

  Chuckling, I pull my hand away and slowly slide out of her. "Death by orgasm."

  "Sounds about right," Avery says, gazing at me. "It feels like you murdered my pussy."

  I just stare at her. No woman should sa
y the word pussy in such a sexy, breathless voice, unless they want that pussy pounded again. Shaking my head, I tuck myself away and fasten my pants again. "Now you're trying to kill me."

  Grabbing her hips, I pull her down from the window ledge and set her on her feet. One arm holds onto her while my other hand cups her pussy, my fingers caressing the flesh, dipping inside. Avery gasps, pulling away from me.

  She thinks I'm trying to get her off again.

  I laugh, instead bringing my hand up and sticking my finger in my mouth. "I've wanted to know what you tasted like since the moment I saw you."

  She gapes at me, her eyes wide, blush spreading across her cheeks. Her reaction only makes me laugh harder. She has no qualms dancing naked then being fucked silly against a window, yet the mere reminder of me tasting her brings out the blushing virgin that still, somehow, exists deep inside of her.

  "Don't worry," I say, reaching over and running that same finger along her bottom lip. "You're just as sweet as I thought you'd be."

  Rolling her eyes, her blush deepening as she tries to fight off a grin, Avery pushes away from me. She scampers around the studio, gathering up her clothes and getting dressed again.

  "So I wanted to ask earlier, you know, before your tits distracted me," I say. "Was that the choreography you've been working so hard on?"

  Avery puts on her shirt as she turns to me. "No, that was something I learned a long time ago. It was actually the dance I auditioned for Juilliard with. My mom choreographed it."

  "Why didn't you show me your stuff?"

  "It still needs a lot of work," she says, pulling on her skirt and twisting it around, trying to situate it.

  "So?"

  "So it's not ready," she says. "You can't really look at a work-in-progress and see the big picture. You have to wait until it's finished."

  "Ah." I can understand that. "Maybe some other time."

  "You, uh… you wouldn't want to come, would you? To the performance? I mean, I know you work, and you'll probably be too busy, but we do a few shows and I thought maybe you could come to one. If you weren't, well… too busy. And if you wanted to. You don't have to. I just—"

  I stare at her as she rambles nervously. "Avery."

  "Thought I'd ask." She pauses, eyeing me with uncertainty. "Yeah?"

  "Of course I'll come. Just tell me when and where and I'll be there."

  "Where did you get all of these?"

  I'm sketching out something. I don't know what it is anymore. It started out as a psychedelic dragon but is starting to look more and more like one of Lexie's damn dinosaurs. I keep getting distracted by the ruckus in the room as the goddess sits on the floor in the corner, shifting through my box of music.

  Tapping my pencil against the desk, I glance at her, seeing she's eyeing me curiously, her eyebrows raised in question. Shit, what did she just ask me? "What?"

  "These things," Avery says, waving her hand overtop the box full of cassettes. "Where did you get them?"

  "Uh, here and there," I say. "Thrift shops, flea markets... some I've had for years, others were donated by clients who had no use for them anymore."

  "Why?"

  "Why what?"

  She waves her hand over the box again. "Why cassettes?"

  This isn't the first time I've been asked that question, and I'm sure it won't be the last, either. I don't have an answer, though. I never do. Why cassettes? Why the hell not?

  Why does society always have to move on to something new when the old still works just as fucking good, you know?

  "They're cheap," I say. "I see no reason not to use them."

  "Because they're outdated." She shifts through the box, pulling a few out and holding them up like she's trying to prove a point. Michael Jackson's Thriller. AC/DC's Back in Black. The Dirty Dancing soundtrack. "Your music collection ends about the time I was born, Reece. You need something new."

  "New music sucks."

  "Does not."

  "Nothing's original anymore," I say. "I can't tell Bieber from Timberlake. It all sounds the same."

  She gasps, staring at me with horror. "Take it back."

  "It's true."

  "Blasphemy!"

  I laugh at her reaction, turning back to my horrid drawing. Snatching the paper from the desk, I ball it up and throw it at the trashcan, ignoring it when it bounces off the side and rolls across the floor. Leaving it there, I move on to a fresh piece of paper and start sketching out another dragon.

  Besides the sound of Avery rifling through the box of cassettes, occasionally snickering as she reads the labels, it's mostly quiet in my space. I try to focus, to work on the drawing, but my heart just isn't into it.

  Sighing exasperatedly, I ball up my second attempt as Avery speaks up behind me. "So, when's your birthday?"

  "It was a few months ago," I say. "Why?"

  "Figured I could get you a Walkman," she says. "Maybe even do something crazy like buy you a CD player."

  I turn to her when she laughs, tossing the balled up drawing at her. It lands right in her lap, and she quickly abandons her musical treasure hunt to be nosey as shit and see what I've been sketching.

  She unfolds it, eyeing the crinkled paper. "This is awesome."

  "Awful, you mean?"

  She rolls her eyes. "No, that's not what I mean."

  Her gaze flickers along the sketch for a moment before slowly, carefully, she folds the paper up and slips it into her pocket without uttering another word. Shaking my head, I turn back to my desk, a small smile tugging my lips when I snatch up another blank piece of paper, settling in for attempt number three.

  "I should get going," Avery says, putting the music back away, shoving the box across the floor toward where I'm sitting. "I have rehearsals, and I know you have work to do. I just wanted to stop by and say hello."

  I nod, vaguely sketching, feeling her hand on my back as she passes me on her way to the door. She said she was just in the neighborhood when she showed up, but the woman exists in practically a different world. There's nothing here for her... nothing, that is, except for me.

  I'm glad whatever this is between us is mutual. Maybe I drive her as crazy as she's starting to drive me.

  I cut my eyes her way, clearing my throat. "So what are you doing tomorrow?"

  "Nothing that I can think of. You?" She doesn't give me a chance to respond before she continues. "Oh, right… never mind… it's your weekend with Lexie."

  "It is," I respond. "We're going to get up early and explore the city a bit, you know… make a day of it, if you want to join us."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah, sure, why not?" I shrug, turning to my work. "Probably head out around eight if you wanna tag along."

  "Absolutely," she says. "I'll see you then."

  She casts me a shy smile before turning to skirt out the door, running straight into Ellie when the receptionist walks in. Avery mumbles a quick apology, ducking her head before disappearing as Ellie blinks a few times, watching her retreat with confusion. After Avery's gone, Ellie shakes her head, muttering, "talk about gorgeous."

  I laugh dryly. "Tell me about it."

  Ellie turns to me, raising her eyebrows curiously as she steps into my workspace, clutching the appointment book. "So the two of you...?"

  "Do you need something?" I ask, cutting off her question as I avoid answering. "I'm busy here."

  "Yeah, wanted to tell you your client just called."

  "Don't do it," I say, shaking my head as I close my eyes, tip of the pencil still pressed to the paper. It was the only person on the books for me today. The job was scheduled to take all damn afternoon. "Don't tell me they cancelled."

  "Rescheduled them for next month."

  Groaning, I toss the pencil down and snatch up the paper, balling it up and throwing it over my shoulder, vaguely in the direction of the trashcan. Fuck this. Running my hands down my face, I take a deep breath before shoving my chair back and standing up. Ellie watches me warily as I gather my things, not
bothering to clean up my mess. She follows me out of the room, lingering there as I lock up my workspace.

  "Tell Kevin I'm taking the day off," I say. "No point staying here."

  "You can hang out with me," she chimes in, leaning against the wall beside me. "I'm sure there will be a few walk-ins you can pick up later today."

  I cut my eyes at her, seeing her amusement, and simply shake my head as I step around her, heading for the door of the lobby. "I'll catch you on Monday, El."

  "Bye, Reece," she says. "Tell the little one I said hey."

  I wave back at her before walking out.

  There's a chill in the air outside, the ground damp as drizzle falls from the sky. Whipping my hood up over my head, I shove my hands in my pockets as I stroll down the block.

  When I reach the corner to turn down the next street, I pause, waiting for the flashing sign to change to walk, my gaze flickering toward the construction site across from me. I haven't seen a single worker in the neighborhood, not a damn thing done to the place except boarding it up and covering it with tarps.

  "About time, huh?"

  The voice calls out behind me, so close it makes the hair on my arms stand on end, a chill running the length of my spine. The motherfucker snuck up on me.

  I glance over my shoulder, seeing him lurking there. Previn Warren. He looks almost like a normal officer, with his dark uniform and handcuffs, a 9MM holstered at his hip, but the word 'probation' is affixed to his jacket where 'police' would otherwise be. He's older, with graying hair and leathery skin, built like a bulldozer with the cockiest grin I've ever seen.

  I turn back around, looking away from him, my gaze flickering toward the construction site again. "Are you following me, Officer Warren?"

  "If I am?"

  Pulling my hands from my pockets, I hold them up, raising them in the air so he can see. "My hands are clean."

  "Good to know," he says, strolling over to stand beside me. "Where are you off to today?"

  I really want to tell the man to fuck off, but I know I can't. Because my business is his business until the courts say otherwise. Oh, how I look forward to that day...

  "Home," I say.

  "Home? Not feeling well or something? You usually always work on Fridays."