She was There

She was there, after the typhoon, tugging the sad, yellowed plants upright. A brush jabbing at the muddy tiles, an aimless hose splattering.

He clattered the mug on the glass table to avoid alarming her, but she had already seen him.

"Quite the storm for December, huh?" he said.

Tala feigned surprise, twelve feet over and a hundred and fifty up, aware that he took coffee most every day out there on the fifteenth floor, gazing over the ornamental lake through the tropical morning haze. Today he had watched her, and she felt a flush of color. Why did he sit out here on the tiny balcony? What did he do? Perhaps he hoped to see her mother inhaling that first cigarette, still dressed in her nightclothes. What did she know? Only that she would catch the edge of her mother's tongue if she didn't make more of an effort. The brush moved with renewed urgency as she engaged her English brain.

"Yeah, s'posed to pass south, they said. But hey, what do they know?"

The words surprised her. Why did she try so hard? He laughed, and she grinned.

Her mother may sleep for another hour—nothing disturbs her, neither earthquake, nor typhoon nor the ceaseless thrum of Manila's traffic. Tala would set her coffee maker off before she left for work. Unable to function without morning caffeine, what she did between seven and midnight, they never discussed.

It was what people did—manage. Rent an apartment, buy an education, bring up your kids well, provide food, pay and pay more, hoping to stay lucky. Now that Tala had worked part time for two years after senior high, the savings helped with her afternoon 'Business Studies with English' course fees.

Self-conscious that she still wore night clothes, she hurried.

He was alone, always. No parties, no girls, no noise. Then he traveled, for a week, a month. Once, it was three months.

Those eyes—when she met him shuffling envelopes and plastic-wrapped spam at the mailboxes in the lobby and her face caught fire.

"Hi neighbor, I'm Brad."

"Tala. Pleased to meet you." Please god, let the ground swallow me, she had almost said 'sir'.

Monday, last week, it had been the elevator. Why did it go slower in the morning? Maybe it needed coffee, too. As his lock tumblers clattered, she had held it whilst her instinct was to punch B, close door and just—escape. A bulging blue and yellow backpack with a miniature teddy bear hanging still from its zipper marked her for what she had been three years ago. Cringe time—she must fix that.

Polite, always. Never forward, he had fixed their apartment lock when her mother's key stuck, filed burrs and oiled the movement—undemanding and perfect. You could hate these people.

"Good morning, Tala. I hope that pack isn't as heavy as these. May I give you lift? I'm going through Makati right now."

"Oh, no thanks. My bus passes the next block."

God, she'd never survive arriving at work in a car driven by 'Joe'. The collective imagination of peers is a terrible thing. Tala squinted at his security lanyard in the lift's reflection, but she could only read 'US' something on the strap. And why did he carry two laptops?

She was there, outside his door, angry and upset. If Tala wore makeup, it would have run—but she was past caring. Perfect scores all year and now she had failed herself. This had cost her the schedule. No time and a blue screen that taunted. Tomorrow was the deadline for 'English language and its role in the Philippine's international status—discuss'.

"Hey, don't worry," he had said, "we'll have that fixed in no time—I hope you got that essay saved to a thumb drive."

Tala wanted instead to write a treatise on 'the most annoying person you ever met', but swallowed it.

"Come in. I just need some tools and we're set. Grab a soda from the fridge."

"Uh, it's okay, Brad."

"Well, take a beer for me."

Aha, alcohol—a weakness? Tala looked around, open-mouthed. The apartment was spotless, as if no-one lived there—a show-place. How do people live in perfection? A towel and sweatband hung by the door.

"I'm sorry Brad, you were leaving, right?"

"Yeah, well, it doesn't matter, I can go anytime."

Another glance at his body under gym gear embarrassed her. What the hell was she thinking?

A bulky holdall gave her eyes the excuse to disengage.

"You take this, I'll bring the rest."

The crumpled baggage label on its strap read JAL.

"My favorite place."

"Huh?"

"Tokyo!" She said, jabbing an excited finger at the tag.

"Really? Me too. The food, the weird culture, the cleanliness and, well yeah."

"The girls. You forgot the girls."

That smile—he looked goofy but cute, she thought.

"Should I be discussing this with you?"

Asian reflex saw a hand cover her mouth. The moment passed but its effect etched.

The clutter contrasted in the few steps across the public area. Why couldn't her mother make more effort? As Brad set down his backpack, she stuffed an errant bra behind a cushion.

"There's a flat box at the top of your bag. If you pass that over, I'll set it it up."

A team effort, she thought. Should be fun. Practised hands extracted a complex puzzle of parts, sliding, folding then clicking them into place, passing the finished contraption to Tala.

"Anywhere near that window, please."

"Why that one?"

"South. For the satellite."

"We need a satellite? Wow."

Tala immersed herself in their techie task to earn his respect.

"Where does this go?" She held up a cable with an ethernet plug. Brad looked at the old dusty beige case.

"Hmm. It looks awful small under there, would you mind? I'd get stuck."

"You must tell me. I've no idea."

"Take a plug out and replace it with one the same shape, that's it. There's a second one... right... here."

As she wiggled into the small space, Tala was aware her ass was now his focal point. Her shorts tightened around her buns and she heard the groan.

"Press the spring thing down and pull out the plug, yours will click right in."

"See it. Yeah. Um, done."

"Great. Now the power connector, please. Guess it's black, like its cable."

"But we have electricity."

"If we lose it, the computer will brick. Gotta have battery power for this."

"Okay, I got that, too." Tala's muffled voice provided the distraction Brad needed. That ass was having more effect on him by the second and he wasn't thinking straight.

"Push the big black plug all the way in, Tala."

First she giggled, hoping he wouldn't notice, but lost control the more she tried. Now she gasped, her body convulsed with laughter. When she thought back, that was the moment they clicked.

"Ouch! I banged my head. It's all your fault."

Tala emerged from the cramped space to Brad's upturned palms and shrugged shoulders, tucking hair behind her ears and pouting. No longer embarrassed, the occasion bonded them.

The screen lit up with a military seal, gold on blue, then flickered dialog boxes which Brad answered with reflex taps. Tala tilted her head.

"It needs to know if we want log files and a remote backup."

"Do we?"

"Yes, and no. It'll take too long."

In seconds the screen broke up into a myriad of tiles with scrolling text in each.

"Wow." She held the back of his chair, smelling his hair and deodorant.

"Welcome to the United States military remote hardware recovery."

"I need all that?"

"I don't know a better way. Come, sit here, see what it finds."

Brad scooted a butt cheek off the chair and patted the seat for Tala to slide in, his eyes glued to the screen.

"Virus, trojan, virus, virus, remote execution, what on earth... Oh, shoot, I see."

Brad pressed against her to examine a small tile which he attempted to cover. Tala pulled his hand away.

"No. Let me see."

jerking off your man

uncut cocks

huge hard dicks

hand job compilation

massive cumshots

"Recent search results. Seen enough?" The protective hand returned.

"Oh, my god."

"Might be an idea to speak to your mother and get separate accounts. Should we set parental controls? I mean, for her?"

"Um, no. I can't do that. She's my mother—I'll talk to her."

Tala's eyes glazed. She had dodged the bullet, but it felt shitty.

"Okay, here we go. Latest operating system patches being applied. I'll install something to prevent this—it'll run in the background but... anyway, it's not my business."

Tala sighed and leaned into his hard, warm body, rested her head against his shoulder and wished for time to stand still as he finished his input, re-booted and shut down.

"Thanks Brad. I mean, really, thanks for this."

Brad fidgeted, Tala looked at his gym shorts, the constrained erection, then up at him.

"That doesn't look comfortable," she teased.

"Sorry, Tala. You're a beautiful girl and I... um. Oh, god—I should go."

"I'll change the plugs, you pack. You better not peek, though."

She was there, her back to the door, heart pounding and nervous as a kitten. They had blamed her mother for surfing porn, now after two weeks, it was tearing her apart. If he thought her beautiful, it should be easy for a good Catholic to confess. 
Each night, she woke in sweats, fingers pointed at her—it cannot wait. Brad's shoes were outside, and she'd heard him earlier on the phone from his balcony. After a deep breath Tala pressed a shaky finger to his intercom.

Nothing. Could he see her? A silly girl with a crush, a mystery man. How does that work, she thought. Another press—zip.

Perhaps if I... it was unlocked. Well, obviously.

"Brad? Brad, it's Tala. Hello?"

Why did he have to make this so difficult? In the organized perfection of his apartment she glimpsed a future or was that wishful... well, whatever. At least the gift packs of dried mango clutched to her chest displayed honest intentions.

"Brad? Um, Brad. Hi. You here? We need to talk. Are you sleeping?"

On reaching the doorway, she froze. Brad lay naked on his bed, head propped, AirPod Pros jammed in, an iPhone in one hand, edging a huge uncut cock. Tala was equal parts jealous and confidence. How dare he?

Before he noticed, she appeared beside him, snatching the phone. The girl was her age, her height, likely Thai. Pretty despite heavy makeup. Perfect brown button nipples sat atop tiny oiled breasts—she understood the attraction and it galvanized her.

Tala flipped the device out of reach, slid to the foot of the bed and lifted her bra tank off in one movement.

Brad's mouth dropped open at the sight of Tala's puffy nipples and grunted as she wrapped both hands around his shaft, pulling down the foreskin. Shocked at his earthy cock scent and unable to reconcile it with porn, she bent to inhale and stayed to play a curious tongue over the leaking slit and taught frenulum. Two minutes of slow stroking later, Tala watched as Brad's legs clenched, his head rolled back and that gorgeous dick pulsed thick ropes of cum high in the air, slowing to a throbbing dribble over her fingers. The smell of him filled her proud senses, a girl who had just taken her first man, she needed to taste him warm and fresh. Tala licked the head, hesitated, then double-dipped, licking her lips.

Now what? Scenes end with a fade, not with a clueless, sticky-fingered, topless girl. As Brad returned to Earth, he realized her predicament, passing her his T-shirt. Tala turned toward the bathroom after wiping her fingers.

"Don't go. Please, Tala. Not yet." Brad held out his arms.

Tala's tilted gaze focussed on the gobs of semen clinging to his tight body.

"Oh, yeah." Brad held out for the T-shirt, mopping his mess.

Tala sank into him without a care, spooning into his body and warming breath. She arched her back at the first neck kiss and felt him throb against her thigh, the head able to work its unguided way into the leg of her shorts to rest against silky panty material.

"Don't even try to explain, let's enjoy this moment for what it is," he whispered, "may I?" he asked, fingertips caressing a young breast, circling towards its hardening puffy mounds, eliciting a soft moan.

The shrill sound of an iPhone shattered their reverie. An angry hand scaled to silence it.

"Yeah?" he snapped.

Tala lay still, listening to the disembodied, tinny voice justify interrupting their first moment.

"But Kaminsky is current on the block seventy avionics and he's already in Incheon."

Tala's nemesis persisted. Brad absorbed the news.

"Sorry to hear that, Carl, please pass on my condolences. How about Garcia, isn't he in Kadena right now?"

The spell broken, Tala fidgeted and a reluctant arm released her.

"Tonight? You got to be joking."

Brad nodded at Tala's hand washing gesture. She scooped up her top and slid from view.

"Attitude? That's rich. Yeah, well maybe I have. I just met someone if you must know."

In his bathroom, a girl's breath caught.

"Sure. I have current manuals and codes. You better give me the 563 right now or I'll miss the transport," he demanded. "Just a moment, Carl."

Brad mic-dropped the device onto the bed, took Tala's head in both hands and kissed her full on the lips, holding her even as Carl protested from his phone prison. Her vision swam as she walked away, Brad's protests fading with each step.

From Incheon, after Kim the little rocketman's missile threat receded, Brad joined military transports first to Kadena, then Taichung, working his way back to Manila and an overdue promotion. One girl filled his thoughts every moment of the trip—just thinking of her made life bearable. Each night that hand-job played in his head as he jerked off to buttock clenching, toe curling orgasms. Tala's ass under that desk and the wobble of her firm tits as she worked his cock could make him go a second and third time until he dry-came. Anticipation of their inevitable relationship thrilled him and where it may lead put him deep in thought. 
Pulling bags from the taxi, Brad had been away four days short of a month. It was his twenty-eighth birthday.

She was not there; her shoes—gone. A photocopied note taped askew to her door suggested the phone number of a letting agent. Pain knotted his chest; he didn't even know her name.

Sleep did not come that night, or the next. Angry with himself, Brad slept beside what should have been, by now, Tala's necklace.

(To be continued, maybe. I have some ideas. First story on here, so feeling my way with submissions etc.)