Baring Souls

"I want you," she said again, pushing my shirt up, exposing my chest. For an instant, I considered warning her, since I had not yet showered. But Michelle didn't care; she buried her face in my chest, kissing, licking, nipping at my skin. Her tongue slipped out, tracing the shape of the muscles on my chest. I breathed in when she captured one of my nipples between her teeth and bit.

Slowly, teasingly, Michelle made her way down my torso, leaving kisses here and there that were kept warm by her breath. She settled to her knees between my legs, placing her hands upon my thighs. My cock was painfully engorged, confined in my jeans, forming an obvious bulge that captured my lover's attention. With an impulsive growl, Michelle pressed her mouth to it, pushing her teeth into the fabric. I gasped from the heat and pressure of her mouth.

"God, Michelle . . . ."

"Hmm," she murmured, looking up to me impishly. She rubbed her cheek against my erection, eyes glowing as she studied my face. "Just enjoy, baby."

I could only groan in response; passion had stripped me of everything but my libido. My hips rolled with need, wanting more of Michelle's attention. My lover responded with a sultry smile of promise, slowly pulling on the button of my jeans. I emitted a moan once it was released, then a sigh of pleasure when Michelle tugged on my zipper with her teeth. Tooth by tooth, the denim fabric parted, revealing my nakedness beneath.

"No underwear," she commented with a sly look, then lowered her face and pressed her lips to my lower abdomen, just above my cock. Yet another moan. Her jaw worked a little, moving up and down, her chin rubbing the base of my shaft. I brought up my hands reflexively, wanting to push Michelle down, wanting to feel her lips lower.

But she intercepted my hands with her own, lifting her head with a sexy lick of her lips. "Uh-uh," she uttered. Keeping her eyes locked on mine, she returned my hands to the couch. "It'll be so much better if you don't rush it, baby."

I swallowed with effort, and nodded. I still couldn't speak. I had never been so aroused. The kind of passion I had only ever read about was now engulfing my mind and body, making me shake with anticipation.

"Lift your hips," she whispered. I eagerly complied, letting out a guttural sigh as my cock was finally released. It sprang in the air for a moment before slapping to my abdomen, then just hovered, waiting.

"Oh, baby," Michelle purred, and descended once more, dragging her tongue along the length of me. The feel of her tongue, the moist heat of her breath . . . nothing could have described Heaven more completely in that moment.

Michelle licked up and down, sometimes with broad, lapping strokes, sometimes just tickling the nerves beneath my foreskin with the tip of her tongue. She made her way down to the swollen sacks beneath, taking them one at a time into her mouth and sucking gently, as if they were pieces of candy from which she wanted to draw out the flavor. Her tongue even wormed lower, beneath my balls, massaging the firm root of my cock. I had never been licked there before.

"M-Michelle," I managed to croak, as a fleeting moment's rationality entered my mind.

She pulled her face back slowly, allowing a glistening sack of flesh to pop out of her mouth. "Yes, baby?"

I tried to speak, tried to form a coherent thought. But I couldn't. I had been seduced by an angel, a vampire, a succubus. "Oh, fuck," was all I managed to say.

"Do you want me to suck your cock, Will?"

Jesus! Thirty-five years, and never had I heard those words. My dick twitched, dancing before Michelle's face. She was enjoying the exquisite torture she was putting me through, that much was obvious. "Y-yes," I stammered. "Please."

Michelle giggled like a schoolgirl, confounding the image of the sultry vixen she had been up to that point. Her hands slid up my naked thighs, slender fingers encircling my cock. She tilted it toward her face, and grinned. "Well, okay," she said coyly. "If you really want me to."

I trembled. "I want you to."

Michelle stroked the length of my cock with slow, firm strokes. She shifted, lifting up until her head was poised over the glistening head. "Good," she whispered, the vixen-like look returning. "Because I really wanna do it." To punctuate her statement, Michelle pressed her lips to the head of my cock, letting them spread apart as she pushed down, sucking me in. The heat of her mouth was maddening, the effect magnified by the way she kept her eyes on mine as she submerged my cock, inch by inch.

I moaned, groaned, thrashed and shook as Michelle feasted on me. I babbled like a baby, digging my fingers into the couch, luxuriating in the slow, exquisite pumping of Michelle's talented mouth. Up and down, down and up, she kept me trapped in a wet seal of massaging heat. My back arched, and I lifted my hips, wanting to give her more. To my amazed delight, she took it.

Without any discomfort at all, and only the barest of hesitation, Michelle pushed down, taking me to the root. I felt a slightly rough opening against the head of my cock, then the sweet, sublime tautness of her throat. I quivered, panting, feeling the automatic rippling motions as she reflexively swallowed. No words could describe that sensation.

Michelle held me deep for several wonderful moments, closing her mouth around the base of my cock, her nose nudging my abdomen. Her hands smoothed up my thighs; nails raked as she dragged them back down. The gentle pain was a perfect complement to the wet sheath of velvet her throat had become. I would have been happy to spend the rest of my life like that.

She slid back up, sucking and slurping loudly as she went so as not to allow a single dribble of saliva to escape. She swallowed, then moaned around my cock, suckling just the head, then plunged back down, sucking hard. Slick from her mouth, my shaft glided effortlessly between her glossy lips. Between the physical sensations and the erotic thrill of watching her, my rush was not long in coming.

"Michelle!" I gasped, warning her. I remembered how disgusted she had been when her shaggy-haired, tattooed lover had ejaculated in her mouth. As much as I wanted to enjoy that for myself, I wanted more for Michelle to enjoy herself. "Stop, baby! I'm gonna cum!"

She kept pumping up and down, eyes flashing open briefly. She murmured around her mouthful of stiff flesh, then suddenly plunged all the way down, taking me to the root. Unable to stop myself, I clasped my hands to her head, shaking uncontrollably as euphoric bliss began.

But Michelle was doing something I had never heard of before. With my cock fully seated in her mouth and throat, she tightened the seal of her lips around the base, squeezing snugly, stemming the eruption that threatened to burst. She didn't move for several moments as the pressure welled up within my groin. I felt like I was ejaculating, even as I was aware that my orgasm was being held in check.

Michelle struggled for a few moments more, clutching my thighs. She held on as long as she could, making sure I did not erupt, then jerked back, releasing my cock. It slipped from her mouth, shiny and dripping. Michelle heaved for breath, smacked and licked her lips. She wiped her mouth, looked up to me.

"You didn't cum," she said.

I panted as well, my vision momentarily blotched. "Almost."

Michelle grinned, then crawled up my body. While she still wore her loose top, she had, at some point, removed her shorts. The heat of her passion, the wetness of her sleek lips, soaked into me as she straddled my lap. "Don't worry, baby," she whispered, reaching between us. "I won't stop you next time."

I ran my hands up her body, pushing Michelle's shirt to her shoulders. As she positioned my cock beneath her pussy, rubbing the head against her slick folds, I paid homage to her firm little breasts, finding a stiff, needy nipple with my lips and tongue. Michelle sighed in pleasure, then moaned – echoing my own – when she pushed down, impaling herself upon me.

"Oh-h-h, Will . . . Oh, baby . . . ."

I gripped her hips tightly as Michelle rode me with slow, massaging rolls of her hips. She seemed to savor the feel of my cock inside her, stretching her narrow inner walls. Her eyes were closed, her jaw set, lips slack. She whimpered and seethed through her teeth, grinding against me. I felt every ripple of her vaginal muscles, the squeezing, the pulling. I pushed up against her, loving the heat that swallowed me up. Michelle's mouth had been incredible, but being inside her was indescribably exquisite.

She gripped my head, kissed me fiercely as sexual urgency spurred us on. Her firm cheeks smacked against my thighs over and over. "Fuck me," she whispered hotly between kisses. "Oh, God, baby, fuck me!"

I grunted and groaned, driving up inside her as eagerly as Michelle bore down. Michelle scratched my shoulders and arms with her nails, her face contorting with pleasure. She arched her back deeply, looking almost like she was in pain. Not a sound escaped her open mouth as she started cumming; indeed, the only real indication of her orgasm was the sudden constriction of her pussy, clenching my cock almost painfully.

Knowing she was cumming spurred on my own orgasm, and I clutched her close, sucking on her neck, pinching her skin between my teeth as I joined her in rapture. My cock pulsed in her womb, sending my seed deep within. I felt like it would never end; I certainly wished it wouldn't.

For long moments, neither of us said a word. We recovered, holding each other close, kissing affectionately. Michelle quivered with aftershocks, looking dazed. Her eyes barely fluttered open when she tried to look upon my face.

"W-Will," she mumbled.

I stroked her sweaty back, kissed her chin. "Yeah."

"It . . . It's always gonna . . . be like this . . . right?"

I smiled, brushed back strands of fine blonde hair from her eyes. God, was she sexy right then, her face glowing with orgasmic blush and sweat, her lips pouting, eyes glazed. "I hope so," I said.

She smiled weakly. "Good." She settled her head beside mine, breathing against my ear. I held her tightly, and for the first time since that fateful day in the back seat of my car with Mandy Reed, I felt that I was in love.

***

I nodded off, and barely noticed as Michelle slid off me. I remained on the couch, relishing the lingering afterglow of the most intense sex I had ever known. My limbs were weak, my mind was like slowly-churning butter. It was all I could do to muster the wherewithal to find my cigarettes and light one up.

Ah, nicotine . . . I chuckled. Life was good. I had finally made it. I had a good job, a great place, and the most incredibly sexy woman I could ever dream of.

Something landed beside me on the couch. I blinked, frowned, glanced over. The three-inch square of Mediterranean tile looked out of place. It took me a moment to realize where it had come from. And when that realization hit . . . .

Oh, shit.

My eyes shot up, the brain behind them suddenly lucid. Michelle stood before me, still naked, but that fact obviously did not bother her. Her face was hard-set, her eyes glowering angrily.

"I figured I'd go wash up," she said, her voice quivering. She was doing all she could to keep her anger in check. "Thought maybe . . . maybe we'd relax a little while, have a beer . . . ."

"Michelle—" I began.

"So I'm sitting on the toilet, right?" she continued, interrupting me. Her lower lip trembled as if she stood in her current state on an Arctic tundra. "And I see a loose tile on the floor. No big deal; shit like that happens, right? But there's this little hole . . . so I look down . . . and I'm looking at my own fucking bathroom!"

I cringed for a moment under her outburst, then sat up, pleading with my eyes. "I didn't put them there," I said quickly, not thinking about my words. I immediately regretted them.

Michelle stepped back, staring at me as if I had just killed her dog. "'Them?'" she cried. "There are more?"

"I covered them all up!"

Michelle backed away, wrapping her arms around herself. Her features contorted, eyes swelling. A few tears began dripping down her cheeks.

"Michelle, wait—" I began, getting to my feet.

"Stay away," she whispered at first. Then her body trembled with rage, her face twisted and flushed. "Stay the fuck away from me!"

Her scream pierced my ears and reverberated off the walls. I could still hear them even after Michelle ran from my apartment, naked and uncaring, down the hall to the stairs. The door slammed, the faint sound of her bare feet slapping down the stairs retreated. I stood in the doorway, cursing my luck, my life, my choices.

***

The following day, I could barely concentrate on work. Business contracts worth millions of dollars were suddenly less important than what a thirty-one-year-old high school dropout and topless dancer thought of me. That Monday was the longest day of my life. I had barely slept the night before, and it was telling amongst my coworkers when I showed up in a wrinkled shirt and unshaven face.

"Jesus Christ, Will, you look like shit," Ramon commented as he stepped into my office. "What the fuck happened to you?"

I didn't look to him as I stared at the computer screen before me. My fingers tapped without inspiration on the edge of the keyboard. "Nothing. Just had a rough weekend, that's all."

Ramon chuckled. "You picked up that little puta, huh?" he asked. "Bet she took a chunk outta your checkbook, but I'm thinking it was worth it, right?"

I shot up from my chair faster than Ramon could react and grabbed his tie. His eyes flared open in shock and fear as I jerked his head down and seethed in his ear.

"Don't fuck with me, Ramon."

I released his tie, and Ramon jerked back, stumbling upon his feet. He fixed his tie with trembling fingers, backpedaling slowly to the door. "Hey, man . . . you gotta lighten up."

I just stared after him as he left.

***

That night, my eyes were on the door as I sat on the edge of my recliner. I had left a card stuck in Michelle's doorframe, inscribed with an apology. I included both my phone number and an invitation to come up to hear me out.

Seven o'clock came and went.

Then eight o'clock . . . .

Nine o'clock . . . .

I made a couple of grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, tried to divert my attention through an episode of Dirty Jobs on Discovery. But I kept glancing to the door, thinking I had heard a knock. But each time I opened the door, I saw only an empty, dark hallway.

My apartment was dark, everything turned off, when I finally went to bed. The darkness wasn't as comforting anymore. It just made me feel more alone.

***

I threw myself into work with a ruthlessness that frightened those around me. For weeks since my arrival to the company, I had been widely seen as 'a pretty cool guy.' But that image was shattered as I focused on nothing but my accounts. I went in to work at nine and did not leave until Security knocked on my door some twelve hours later.

I knew that I was working as much as I was because I wanted to avoid Michelle. I had betrayed her, and she had spurned me. I couldn't fault her for her reaction, but neither did I want to risk that she might take me up on my offer of reconciliation. I told myself we came from different worlds, and neither should the 'twain meet. I almost made myself believe it.

My sudden perceived passion for my work did not go unnoticed. In just three days, I had completed more accounts than most would have finished in two weeks. It was as if I had been possessed, and the devil who had invaded my body was obviously admired by those above.

The phone rang that Thursday afternoon as I was diligently finishing yet another account. I almost ignored the annoying trilling, but finally snatched up the receiver on the third ring. "Hargener," I snapped. I always answered the phone with my last name.

"Will," came a grating, slightly familiar voice. The voice of a man with a passion for cigars.

My fingers stopped their mad dance on the keyboard before me. "Mr. Lupo."

"Hard at work?" he asked.

I smirked mirthlessly. "Always."

"I like that," my boss said. "You've proven to be an efficient man."

I took a breath and leaned back a little in my chair. "Well, that's what I promised you."

"I admire a man who delivers on his promises," Lupo said. "I was hoping you would have time for a break."

I frowned. "I don't really need to take breaks, sir," I said.

"Take one for me," he said, his voice like gravel. "My office."

I blinked. "Of course. I'll be right there."

***

I had only seen the office of Francesco Lupo – 'Frank' to those few who could call themselves either friends or peers – once, and that had been shortly before I was hired. It was a lavish room, rather like the Oval Office of the White House. During my interview with Lupo, I had garnered the distinct impression that he liked to think of himself along presidential lines. His sense of self-importance had been thick enough to touch.

Phyllis, a matronly woman in her fifties who served as Lupo's personal secretary, gave me only a simple nod before hitting the buzzer that unlocked the door to the boss' office. I returned the gesture before pushing through the door and into the chamber beyond.

The first thing I noticed as Ramon, seated in one of two low-backed leather chairs that sat before Lupo's mammoth desk. My business rival gave me a smirking look before slowly turning his attention back to Lupo.

"Have a seat, Hargener," my employer said with a gesture of his hand. The round-bodied man wore a voluminous suit that seemed too large for him. The cloying essence of an expensive cigar filled the air; the source of that aroma was held between two stubby fingers.

I approached the unoccupied seat and slid into it, giving Ramon a brief glance. The smug expression on his face gave me cause to wonder. "What can I do for you, Mr. Lupo?"

The man grunted, his double chin and jowls ruffling. I suddenly understood why so many in the company referred to him as 'the bulldog.'

"There are very few men in the world who appreciate the value of hard work," he said. His words sounded like those of a practiced speech. "It gets harder, every year, to find those few who understand the value of sacrifice."

Sacrifice, I thought. That single word sounded rude, blunt, offensive.

Lupo stood, his leather-backed chair creaking in relief, and came around his desk. His beady dark eyes wandered back and forth between Ramon and I. "I see a lot of me in the two of you," he said. "You remind me of myself when I was younger."

Ramon was quick to rise to the bait. "I'm flattered, Mr. Lupo," he said. "I do what I can."

Lupo smiled amusingly. "Eager," he commented. His eyes darted to me briefly before he leaned back against his desk.

"The business world is all about sharks and fishes," he said. "The fishes get eaten; the sharks do the eating. I pride myself on the idea that I employ more sharks than fishes."

"Guess that explains why you hired me," said Ramon with an exaggerated grin.

Lupo didn't respond to him. His attention was focused on me. "And you, Will?"

I shrugged. I felt numb and cold, like a naked man who had been left outside in winter. "I just do my job."

My boss smiled slowly, revealing stained teeth beneath thick, dry lips. "Good answer. I like that."

He turned away, stepping back around the desk. I felt Ramon's eyes upon me, and I gave him a brief look. The way we regarded one another made it obvious that we were now rivals, and no longer friends. It was eat or be eaten time.

"I have a position to fill," Lupo announced once he fell back into his creaking chair. He puffed on his cigar. "But only one. And you two are my best candidates."