Summer Hire Ch. 01

He walked into the kitchen/dining area where he adjusted a dimmer to cast a warm glow over a butcher block island. Turning back, he realized she hadn't moved from the open door. He waved her forward, "Come in. Do you want something to drink?"

"Ah... sure." She stepped in, hesitantly closing the door behind her. "Do you have a glass of wine or something?" She stayed near the door, looking around at his place.

He smiled, "No problem." He opened a wood-paneled refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of white wine with a cork sticking halfway out of the top. "I've got some great Vouvray left over." He looked over at her again, puzzled that she still hadn't moved from the entryway. "Come on in," he insisted. Then he turned to a cabinet to get out a couple of wine glasses.

Not seeing other options, Melissa walked into the kitchen. She leaned back against the island while he poured the wine. He brought the glasses over to her and handed her one. Clinking his glass against hers, he toasted, "To one very hot woman."

They both took a sip. Tony set his glass down on the island and then took Melissa's glass from her. He sat her glass next to his and stepped closer. She lifted up her head, expecting another forceful kiss, but he surprised her by gently nuzzling her neck. His little kisses and licks accelerated her heartbeat back to the elevated level where it had been in the elevator.

Melissa relaxed back against the island, confused about his on-again, off-again abruptness. His hands rested on her shoulders as he kissed his way up the right side of her neck to nibble on her ear. His left hand brushed her strawberry blond hair out of the way as his tongue traced the outer folds of her ear. She sighed, letting out a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding. Deciding not to worry about his abrupt changes, she gave in to the hungry arousal that was once again wetting her labia, this time without the fabric of her thong to absorb it.

Then he gently turned her around to face the island. Her hips rested against the rounded edge of the butcher block, and he leaned her forward while her lifted her hair off the back of her neck. His mouth explored the contours of the back of her neck. He pressed his hips up against her buttocks, trapping her firmly against the butcher block. She could feel his erection through his pants. She was at least glad to discover he was hard again, so soon after his earlier orgasm.

He reached down to lift up her skirt, then ran the backs of his fingernails along her naked flanks. She shivered, arching back into him. He laughed quietly and then pressed her down, until she was laying flat across the butcher block surface. She felt him reach down to unzip his pants and pull his penis out. Positioning himself against her sex, he slid the head of his penis up and down along the inner cleft of her labia, coating himself with her juices. Aligning himself carefully, he entered her in one swift thrust.

She bucked back up against him as he slammed her hard against the island. Her reaction seemed to excite him, and he vigorously thrust in and out several times before settling down to a more sustained rhythm. With every stroke, Melissa was pleased to discover that the head of his penis slid across a wonderfully sensitive area inside her, compressing her soft tissue between the rigidness of his penis and the hard surface of the butcher block.

She moaned with her growing need to orgasm but found herself distracted by his fumbling for something on the island. She turned to see him push his thumb into a warm stick of butter that had been left out. When his thumb was liberally coated with butter, he brought it back to her buttocks.

Realizing what he intended, she put her head back down on the butcher block and tried to will her fear-clenched anus into relaxation. She hoped he'd be gentle and give her a little while to loosen up.

He did. He worked slowly around her tight opening with his thumb, teasing it, while continuing to slide his penis in and out of her vagina. It didn't take long before she felt her anus puckering up, ready to be penetrated. He slipped the tip of his thumb just inside of her, massaging her opening till she relaxed against the pressure, wanting more.

When his whole thumb entered her, she gasped and clenched hard against the sudden increase in pressure. Shifting her hips slightly, she lifted herself against him so the angle was more comfortable. He responded by pressing deeper, with the base of is thumb forcing her anus wider. She winced and gritted her teeth for a moment, willing her body to accept the pressure as an erotic fullness.

From past experience, she knew she liked the fullness of having both her vagina and anus full, but only moderately so. She remembered when an old boyfriend had slipped a thin vibrator in her rear while she was on top. She had come explosively. The memory helped her relax and turn the fullness into pleasure.

She twisted back a little against the butcher block, seeking just the right spot where his penis pressed her most sensitive spot against the warm wood. Finding it, she wiggled into firmer contact, letting her intensity build towards her rapidly onrushing orgasm.

Then suddenly, she was empty. No penis, no thumb. From the fog of what had been the imminent onset of a huge orgasm, she tried to look back to see what he was doing. Then his penis suddenly pushed past her sphincter and it became clear.

With a moan of frustration, she lay her head back down again. Anal sex was definitely not her favorite activity. Even when it went well, she found the whole thing frustrating. She had only ever come once in anal intercourse, and that involved a lot of simultaneous clitoral stimulation.

Over the years, she had only agreed to anal sex a half dozen times, and she wasn't really looking to add to that experience. A couple of times when the guy was large, or she wasn't ready, it had been truly unpleasant.

She shifted into a more comfortable position, deciding she should at least be grateful that Tony wasn't particularly large. When he started pushing all the way in, however, she realized that her rear wasn't as empty as she would have liked. The increasing tempo of his pounding was compacting the natural contents of her anus with unpleasant pressure.

Melissa almost cried from the frustration of having a powerful orgasm snatched away from her, only to be left with gritting her teeth to bear out an increasingly unpleasant experience. She decided that if he didn't come quickly, she was going to call the whole thing off. She squeezed her sphincter muscles, trying to let him know that his penis was no longer welcome in there.

To her surprise, the contraction around his penis caused him to buck into an explosive orgasm. After a few last desperate shoves into her, he withdrew, gasping for air. He stumbled back away.

"Well," she thought, "at least one of us is happy."

She lay unhappily on the butcher block, unsure what to do. From the corner of her eye, she saw him walking away. After a moment, she heard a distant door close. Pushing up on her elbows, she looked around. From down a hall, there came the muted sound of a shower running. After a few minutes, Tony came out of the bathroom in his undershorts.

He waved at her, "I got to get up early in the morning." He turned towards his bedroom and said, "Great night, huh?" Then he went into his bedroom and closed the door.

Melissa stood up incredulous. Her mouth gaped open as she searched desperately for something to scream at him. Nothing came out.

She looked around the kitchen, searching for something to throw, something to break. After a mad moment, she stopped.

A crushing certainty descended on her that this was her fault. She had no one to blame. She had gotten herself into this situation.

The path to this place was far too familiar. It always began with a sexy bad boy. The rush of her arousal inevitably blinded her to the stupidity of her choices. No matter how she tried to avoid it, the ending was always the same. It would become blindingly clear the guy was a complete asshole. Then she would come crashing down into reality, left with only self-disgust.

"After all, how can I blame them?" she told herself, "I'm the whore who's willing to be used." The seeming inescapable progress of her addiction to bad boys saddened and angered her. "Everywhere else, I take care of myself. I don't let dickheads push me around in life or at school. It's just boyfriends that I want to treat me like crap."

She looked at the closed bedroom door. "Hell, he doesn't even qualify as a boyfriend. I wasn't even a one-night stand. I was just a quick fuck."

She took a last look around at his kitchen. Her eyes lingered for a moment on a salt shaker sitting next to a sugar canister. The idea of pouring some salt into his sugar canister caused a tight grin to flash across her lips. Then she shoved the thought away, convinced it would only make her look even more juvenile and naive. She was already sick with how stupid she had been.

She left his condo quietly and went down the hall to the elevator. When she pressed the 'down' button, the elevator doors opened immediately. "Damn!" she swore, realizing that her visit to his place had been so brief that the elevator was still at his floor.

She jabbed the button for the lobby and crossed her arms. "Oh shit!" she exclaimed. She hadn't remembered to put her bra back on. "God damn it! I was such a proud little fucking slut when I came in. Yeah, slut is right." Looking at the floors sliding past on the elevator's display panel, she realized there was no way that she was going to get her bra back on before reaching the lobby.

When the elevator arrived and the doors opened, she poked out her head. Mike was sitting on a stool inside the entrance. He stood up as she looked out. Taking in her unhappy expression, he dug into his coat pocket and pulled out a cell phone. "I'll call you a cab, miss. Just wait in here a minute." He stepped outside to make the call, leaving her the privacy of an empty lobby.

A couple of minutes later, a cab pulled up. Mike came back in. "Your cab is here, miss... and, well..., you know... Tony, Mr. Giancarlo, he's not really the sort of guy to waste much time on. Kind of an ass, really."

Melissa felt those words hit her, as though she was watching herself from above while being lectured by Father Grady. The adult part of herself knew that the doorman meant well, but the child inside curled into a tight ball. "Thank you, Mike," she heard herself say, as she walked out to the waiting cab.

Getting in, she thought about calling Malcolm. During the first year of grad school, he had unexpectedly become her best friend. In an Ivy League archeology program, they were both outcasts from the solidly upper middle-class white norm of their fellow students. Melissa was working class Irish-American, only there on a scholarship. Malcolm was gleefully homosexual, with deep chocolate skin. When Melissa's love life fell apart, which had happened much too frequently this year, she had always found peace in talking with him.

She found it oddly reassuring that the outrageousness of his escapades greatly exceeded her own, at least by the stories he told. He was the perfect non-judgmental confessor for her sins. She pulled out her phone to call him, but thumbing it on, she saw how late it had become. After staring forlornly at the phone, she slipped it back away. She couldn't bring herself to call him this late. Either he was asleep or else he was out enjoying himself. It would have to wait for morning.

Now that morning had come, she sat in bed and hugged a pillow, rocking back and forth, fighting back tears. Her alarm started shrieking again. "You stupid fucking asshole!" she screamed, not knowing if she meant her alarm clock, Tony, or herself.

She shut off her alarm, then flopped face down in bed to avoid the day. She considered not going into the lab at all today. "No one's going to notice. Classes and exams are done. It's officially summer."

"Why the hell did I set my alarm anyway?"

A moment later, she flung herself upright. "Oh shit!"