An Unlikely Gentleman

I'd like to thank LadyVer for editing without (allegedly) wincing. I like stories, which means I believe in context and build-up.

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"Tell me you did it on purpose." I said, after a sigh.

"W-what are you talking about?" I was sure he was picturing me rubbing my temples, which wouldn't have been far from the truth.

"The company logo, Hernán?"

Silence. He saw that the colors were way off. Even though we were co-workers and he was fifteen years my senior, my voice made him more nervous than our boss being angry—a recurrent theme with me. Turning away from my desk, I looked over the typical dull, gray cubicle workplace design and swept my gaze around the room. Conversations dwindled where my eyes landed, and then resumed after a few seconds.

Both Miranda and Rebecca met my glances. When my eyes met theirs, they reacted like most. Miranda nervously focused on her computer monitor; Rebecca smirked and turned away.

From teachers to friends, I have been frequently told that my way of doing things, especially staring, causes strong reactions in others. A few of those reactions, I have easily picked up on. With Miranda, hell, her interest in me was as subtle as a Rio de Janeiro carnival-goer in the middle of a funeral procession. Rebecca, amused by her friend's "stealthy" interest in me, seemed weary. I guessed they knew they would be playing with fire if they came near me—they just might have been right.

"Why, fuck me—" Hernán finally added. He was the nearest thing I had to a friend in that company.

"You know I don't swing that way," was my attempt to put him at ease as he didn't work well under stress. He emitted a sound that might've been a squeak or a bad attempt at giggling.

"—well, you saved my ass. I'll work on it."

"It's my job, and I owe you."

"Hey, I voted for you because I like your style. You say things as they are." Hernán dismissed the support that caused me to land the job. "I'll mail you the next version in a few. TIFF?"

"You can even send me a BMP if that works for you, as long as we turn it in in under four hours." We actually had two, but I didn't want to stress him out. I knew he'd get to it as soon as the line went dead.

"You got it, Dante."

After pulling up the file again from my laptop, I sensed Miranda examining me again.

I was part of the marketing department within a relatively new, but promising, company, and that week was the last one before being transferred to another office. I'd be working directly with Hernán Simmons-Rivera, the guy with great ideas, if sometimes a little careless with details. He came up with ideas. I polished them. I'd be able to tell if your shirt wasn't ironed correctly from a quick glance. A keen observer of colors, shapes, and proportions. That, and a marketing degree made me ideal for the position.

Focusing on the file, I overheard a comment about a cake topper. I was well aware of being called "cake topper" because my hair was always in its place, my suits were impeccable, my ties matched my suits, and my expression appeared frozen. I sought the possible source of the comment: Ronnie and Marcus, two grown men gossiping like high schoolers. Not my problem if they failed "basic shapes and colors" in kindergarten. Becoming braver now that they know I'm leaving.

Having mailed the draft to the higher-ups in hopes they gave it the thumbs up, which I knew wasn't going to happen on the first try, I went home.

***

Sweat clung to my struggling body as I did my not-favorite: pull-ups. The phone buzzed. Just a few more...the burn is almost there.

New email. Unknown sender.

"Its a shame that your leaving. But I can come clean. I have a crush on you, even if its wrong. Your too tempting, but everyone tells me I should stay away. When you walk by, I just want you to eat me up with the look. I'm sending this to get it out of my system, that you dont know who I am will keep me safe from you. Thats not what I want, but its the way it should be."

Bianca might've been right. She once told me, "Dante, I swear you take a sex shower. You know what I'm saying? There's like this tension around you. Whenever you look at me, you're hungry, but you manage not to make it sick. It's simply saying 'if I get my hands on you, I'll fuck you within an inch of your life.' Makes me tingle where it shouldn't."

I reread the email. It was only appropriate to snort. That anonymity was self-delusion of the highest quality. Miranda's frustration was obvious. She hadn't had sex for almost a year; her husband couldn't be bothered. I stayed away from gossip, which meant it was common knowledge. Too bad I don't sleep with women in a relationship, unless their husband or boyfriend happens to be an asshole. Then, you might qualify. You, woman, overestimate— A groan of frustration sliced the rest of the thought away.

I crept to the window that faced her apartment. Keys jingling and a juice bottle lying on the floor, Danielle bemoaned her clumsiness. She was too hot. Sensuous, long, and thick hair. Curvy body worthy of a pin-up poster. Fuck, if I could have a night with her...

I didn't want her learning about my (undeserved?) asshole reputation. I didn't know either why I wanted her more than any other woman. She turned around. Great, she sees me looking from my window. Way to be creepy, Dante. Haven't had sex for almost a month. Probably stared at her like a wolf in heat. Just great.

She smiled sheepishly before swiveling her eyes away, picking up her juice, and disappearing inside. Time to repair the creepy-look impression.

***

I bathed and got some decent clothes on. The plan was simple: get artichoke dip. In some fleeting conversation I had mentioned it before, and she had been interested.

However, walking out of the store, I was stopped by a reluctant and cheerful, "H-hey..."

Whatsherface, the blond jogger that I normally saw around the neighborhood. Busy staring at my "expensive" outlet shoes, she didn't even look at me. Lauren? Lorrie? L... "Lorelai," I offered. My voice sounded deeper than I intended. She finally lifted her eyes as if they were laden by an almost overpowering weight. She hurriedly smiled with uncertainty.

She looked damn good, her body fit, and, while not showing too much, the outfit worn made it clear she took good care of herself.

Surreptitiously, the sun sank in the horizon, bathing the landscape in that golden light that makes everything glow. It struck her face. If I had been falling for this girl, I would've been head over heels at that moment. Her ivy-colored eyes gave the illusion of being lighter and warmer. Her lips hinted at being even more inviting than the norm. Her breasts were a nice, natural C that required powerful elastics on her top so they didn't bounce painfully.

"I...uh...I was wondering if you...could help me again." Fuck you silly again, you mean. Why lie?

"Fuck you silly again, you mean." I wasn't at work, so my language wasn't restricted.

She actually gasped and turned a nice shade of red that favored her appearance.

"I...I don't..."

"If that's a 'yes', follow me to my apartment." I didn't even wait. I turned and walked back. As expected, her footsteps, even if timidly, followed me. Why so many adult women react well to the high school treatment has always been beyond me. I didn't care about them, and did nothing to lead them on. I was in no way tender, but they came to me anyway. Being described as "cute" helped, but looks aren't everything. Hell, I had hated the jocks that treated girls like crap to "get some", and here I was doing almost the same because I really didn't care, not to grab their attention.

Somehow it ended with them wanting me. Something about an "aura of mystery" surrounding me, I believe. While that might not have been my original intention, offer me sex with an attractive girl? Where do I sign?

***

"You know where the shower is," I told Lorelai, after unlocking the door and leaving the dip in the fridge. A few seconds later the water was running.

The apartment seldom impressed anybody for better or for worse. I worked in marketing, but that isn't always big money. I just knew how to spend and where to spend. I walked into the bathroom and got rid of my clothes.

Obediently, Lorelai was already soaping her body by the time I was inside. I stepped in right behind her and breathed on her shoulders. She shivered in a nice way. I extended my right hand to touch where my breath had caressed her skin, and I heard a stifled moan. OK, I might have been good, but not THAT good to get reactions without even touching. I paid close attention.

I touched Lorelai and she shivered again, not daring to peek at me yet. Another moan. Not from Lorelai...Danielle? The thought of my brunette neighbor got me harder than I was. That lucky bastard is visiting her again. Not as often as I would visit her if I were him, however. I slowly ran my fingers down Lorelai's back until they reached her hips. I grabbed her and forcefully turned her around, making her look at me. Let's get you to moan and show Danielle how it's done.

Whereas I didn't know how or why my stare worked, it didn't mean I didn't use it. I stared hard and deep into her eyes for a few seconds. She even attempted to cover up her breasts, but I prevented her from doing so by grabbing her wrists and pinning them against the wall—the shower's spray trying to find a way between us. Her knees bent slightly and she swallowed with difficulty, turning away. I breathed in. The scent was there.

Without moving my eyes away from hers, I let her know that I noticed. "You're already wet." One...two... The pause was long enough to make her nervous, and I was rewarded with what I wanted. She tried to speak.

"Are yo—hmph." I pressed my lips against hers and started kissing her furiously. She sighed into my mouth and rubbed her body against mine. Her pussy barely, but successfully, managed to make fleeting contact with my member. I growled, nibbling on her lip, then kissed and bit my way down to her neck. Not yet. I bit a tad harder on her neck. She whimpered.

My hands, of course, were quite busy. Her body was perfect. I mean, she might have had a bit of extra fat somewhere on her hips, but that is perfect for me—some flaw that makes me feel I'm going to fuck an actual woman, not a photo shopped, unnaturally perfect doll from a Playboy cover. Her breasts were soft and I began with some applied pressure. As soon as she became more turned on, I'd be rougher, but in the meantime I played lightly with her nipples.

"Ah." She pressed harder into me and wriggled her hips. That chick always wanted to take me bareback, never bothering to ask for condoms, which made condoms a necessity. The bathroom window had a weird arch shape to it. Above the arch, I could hide small things. Like rubbers. I let one of her hands free and grabbed the small object in my hand. Since she was too eager, it was only obligatory for me to make her ache for it. "On your knees," and it's not an option, my tone let her know.

She complied almost too quickly. Her knees made a soft thud against the shower floor. I heard Danielle moaning again. Lorelai didn't even need me to tell her; she started sucking my dick as if her life depended on it. The girl had a mean technique. It became my turn to moan. "Ah..."

I pumped my hips, one hand guarding the unopened condom, the other one guiding her head. She noisily and messily worked on my cock with her pouty lips, her hand jacking me off, caressing all my length. Let's get this out of the way. I am not porn star sized. Women never gasp with shock, nor laugh at it. I'm not giving numbers away.

After our previous encounters, Lorelai had already figured out my sensitive spots. My hips, without my permission, began to move faster against her mouth, creating obscene slurping sounds. I grunted, feeling the orgasm rearing its head, still far away, but now in sight. Her tongue brushed the underside of my cock unabashedly and I felt a nice tingle. I heard Danielle do that sexy sound of hers a bit louder and I imagined her sucking me off. Suddenly, the orgasm didn't feel that far away. "Enough. Stand up."

She looked at me excitedly, but I wasn't going to fuck her just yet. I made sure her back was against the wall and I knelt, placing one of her legs on my shoulder. I dove in. My free hand teased her nether lips for a few seconds, but my tongue wasn't that patient and I soon used it, almost like a whip against her defenseless pussy. "Oh, GOD!"

As soon as she said that, I made a mental note of what I had done, and placed the soon-to-be-used condom on the floor and began playing with myself, lightly. Then, without warning, I unleashed that maneuver that had made her yelp, over and over again, with higher intensity. Lorelai veritably wailed. Her hands sprang out to grasp something to prevent her from falling. As if on cue, my neighbor moaned again and I almost shot my load. I immediately let go of my cock, working on denying my orgasm, making sure it'd be intense when I finally let go.

She placed one hand on my back and caressed it without any defined pattern, as if searching for something, her hips bucking against my tongue. I felt her fingers caressing the ridges of my back muscles, while not huge, defined enough to make them pleasant to look at. I kept attacking her pussy with fury. My finger slipped entirely into her and received a hug from her inner muscles. I stroked my dick again, slowly.

I finger-fucked her, slowly but firmly, making sure my tongue didn't stop, my other hand keeping me near the edge. Lorelai moaned so loud it might've qualified as a scream. Her pussy got tighter and I stopped fingering her, moving my mouth away from her. She stared down at me, bewildered. I looked up at her, daring her to question my motives. She didn't. As soon as she seemed to come down from her high, I went back to work resuming my attentions on her clit with my tongue, my finger trying to find the exact spot that would make her explode. Her breathing suddenly revved up.

A surrounding, sinful groan from Danielle and Lorelai resonated simultaneously in the room and my orgasm again threatened me. I stopped touching myself and devoted my attention to making her lose control. Down my tongue went. Then up, not covering a small area, but randomly focusing on the places that made her respond. She quivered and I stopped again.

"Why...what...what are you doing?" Panting, Lorelai could barely talk.

I dislodged her leg from above my shoulder, stood up slowly but surely, stopped the running water, and handed her a towel. "Get on the bed." She could easily tell that I was going to fuck her, hard. I think she almost came just from the anticipation. I decided that this time I wouldn't spend a whole night giving her orgasms. It'd be only one, but certainly worth it.

She hurriedly wrapped her long, blond hair with another small towel found hanging nearby, dried her body quickly, and walked towards the bedroom. I followed, intently listening for any moans from Danielle. Lorelai almost jumped on the bed, her breasts moving slightly with every one of her breaths once she was sitting up. She appreciatively evaluated my body. I stood in front of her and was about to push her on her back when she started kissing my torso, spreading butterfly kisses on the ab muscles that were visible.

She started sucking my dick again. As if it was going to get soft. I let her do that for a few seconds, but gently pushed her head back after that. She wouldn't appreciate it if I were rough at that moment. I was not going to treat her bad all the time. I was focused on her pleasure, even if it looked as if I were using her. Instead of addressing her roughly, I was blunt, but not harsh. "Lie back. I need to fuck you right now."

Her lip trembled, but she managed to reply. "Can I be on top?" Ok, I wasn't going to be that gentle. I couldn't help always being in charge. And she was asking too nicely. Before I could stop myself, I raised an eyebrow, giving her a 'no, we're doing this my way' look. She actually blushed. I rolled the condom on. With Lorelai on her back, my naked form hovered on top of hers like an ominous cloud.

"Get it in," I told her, giving her some control of what we were doing. She grasped my cock and placed it at her entrance. There was no point in denying that she was soaked and that I needed this. I sank halfway in. She is so hot inside... Right away I established a rhythm, feeding her my cock a little bit more with every thrust. She forgot how to breathe—her mouth open, her body tense—as I started fucking her harder by the second.

I was afraid I was hurting her, but she suddenly moved and came alive, letting out a series of ragged breaths. I couldn't feel that much due to the condom. I had gotten one of the thicker ones, which was fine. Maybe I wouldn't have lasted otherwise. I pulled out and the expression on Lorelai's face was almost of despair. I didn't waste time. I placed both her ankles guarding my ears, and I began fucking her down against the mattress, knowing that it would allow deeper penetration. Danielle could be heard cooing. Had she left her window open? I normally couldn't listen to her having sex (yes, I often tried; she was my typical jack-off inspiration).

Lorelai moved her back as if I had been torturing her, changing positions rapidly, her face almost depicting pain. But the moans and whimpers stated the truth. She got tighter, but not quite there yet. Since listening to my neighbor had me ready to blow, I did the only thing that could stop me from cumming. I played a song, mentally. Coffee Rumba (Moliendo Café, for those who speak Spanish) provided enough distraction.

My mind, being elsewhere, wouldn't last forever. I moved in an exaggerated motion, using all of my length to dig out the orgasm I needed to give her. She mumbled something as I changed the strategy against her senses, vaguely feeling every inch of my cock disappear in her hungry and accepting body. "Look at it. Look at my dick fucking you, Lorelai."

"Dante, I—"

"Look."

She stared, entranced, watching my meat glistening with her arousal go in and out, over and over again. Good girl.

Lorelai was the kind of woman that would lose her pristine demeanor if teased or aroused enough, and I planned to make that happen. With one arm, I secured both legs, the other hand playing with her nipples again, only harder. I pinched them until I found her in the dubious point between pleasure and pain. The first time I had had sex with her, she had told me she was tired of men treating her like a princess. Truth be told, even like that—naked, under me—she did manage to have a regal air to her; her slightly tanned skin and aristocratic features matched nicely. So, lucky me, I get to play with her as rough as she can manage.

I lowered my hand and tried to fit it between our bodies. Slightly awkward since I was fucking her hard, my hips slamming against hers. I finally managed to get two fingers near her clit, and I did my best to nudge it, massage it, and press hard against it. That regal air was almost broken. Her reluctance when speaking vanished, at least temporarily. "Oh, God! Oh, OH! Give me that cock!"

The princess had ordered. I could only comply. I released her legs and snaked that hand towards a strategic spot that would give me leverage. I used my weight and position to drive myself into her as if I wanted to destroy her. I played with her clit almost as if I wanted to make it catch fire with the friction, but she was too wet to let that happen. Last time I had done something like that...