The Convertible - Broken Arrow

Dave's face got serious, and he dropped the euphemism routine. "You lost two people last month, dude. You want to talk metrics? Think about this: it takes an average of 70 days to recruit, hire and train a skilled inventory worker like yourself. In those 70 days, the remaining team members, including you, have to work extra hours to take up the slack of the unfilled position."

Dave stood up, like a lawyer making a final argument in a court case. "You're burning your team members AND yourself out, Darren. Your great productivity metrics are unsustainable. You may be damn near a hundred percent correct in your task execution, but your co-workers are not superheroes like you.

It's a good thing for you to make good decisions and be right; what I'm asking you to do, for the sake of the department and the sake of the company, is to not be so goddamned right ALL the time. Let your co-workers win one once in a while."

He pointed at the door, "Now get the fuck out of my office, tough guy, or you'll find out you're not the only asshole in the company. Do yourself a favor and go get laid or something."

It was 4:30pm and I had planned on finishing three more project reports before I went home. Instead, I turned off my laptop and left it sitting on my desk. For the first time in months, I shut down the 'company' part of my brain, put on my jacket and left.

Getting in the TR2, I drove to the nearest real bar. Not one of those trendy club places with god-awful electronic dance music full of horny 20-somethings looking for a hook-up, I mean a real corner tavern-type place with a jukebox full of sad songs and lousy beer to chase them with.

The one I found was called 'Lenny's Lookout'. I ordered an American brew (none of that fancy IPA shit), changed a $20 bill for a shit-ton of quarters, programmed in every sad song I could find on the juke box, then sat down with my cheap beer.

As I sipped my beer, I thought about what Dave Swanson had said. I had to admit he was right. I'd been taking the loss of Claudia out on my co-workers. There was a placard above the bar that read, 'Beatings Will Continue Until Morale Improves', and I realized that was now my style. My feelings of anger, frustration, hurt, and loneliness were taking a toll on them AND on me. I decided that come Monday, I'd lighten the fuck up to benefit the team as well as for my own good.

Then I began thinking about the Native American culture and philosophy I'd read while Claudia and I were dating. This one Chief, Red Cloud, said 'Riches do us no good. We cannot take them with us to the other world. We do not want riches. We want peace and love.' I realized Red Cloud was right.

Without my Claudia, peace and love would be unattainable for me; my heart would be the equivalent of the legendary Flying Dutchman, never able to make port, doomed to sail the seas of misery forever. Fuck me.

I chugged the rest of my beer and was about ready to leave when my dark reverie was broken by a woman's voice.

"Excuse me, but are you the guy driving that cute green sports car in the parking lot?"

I looked up. The woman in front of me was not young, but the long red hair framing her pale freckled face made her look pretty. She was holding a couple of beer-filled mugs. "Yeah, that's my car," I growled.

She asked, "I love old cars. Mind if I join you?" Her tight jeans made her thighs look good, and the three top buttons undone on her red plaid flannel shirt showed enough cleavage to get my interest. Maybe it was just the cheap beer kicking my ass, but for the first time in a long time, I felt my dick begin to stir.

"Free fucking country," I growled. Moving my foot under the table I kicked the chair next to me out so she could sit down. A real gentleman, that's me. The juke box was playing a song about not being as good as I once was. Yeah, that was me, too.

She sat down and handed me one of the mugs. "Brenda Vasco."

"Darren Cosgrove. Thanks for the beer."

"You look like a man with a woman on his mind. I'm a good listener if you've a mind to talk."

The lager in my brain kicked diplomacy firmly in the nuts. "Frankly, I do NOT want to talk about Claudia. Besides, it's not your ears that got my attention, it's your ass and your tits." I thought my crudeness would be off-putting and she'd leave. Turns out I read that script wrong.

Brenda got up, but instead of leaving as I'd hoped, she walked around the table and plopped herself down on my lap. The crotch of my khakis suddenly got a little tighter.

After taking another sip of beer, she pressed her lips to mine. I kept them rigid at first, but then softened a bit. Despite my emotional funk, after going so long without it I was enjoying the feminine attention. My hands ran up her sides, caressing the warm body underneath that red flannel.

She murmured, "You sure are a good kisser." I was sure she was bullshitting, because I wasn't even trying. If she genuinely believed my kisses were good I felt bad for her, but I wasn't about to give her my best. My most passionate kisses were reserved for Claudia's lips, in case I ever found them again.

Another few swigs of beer with Brenda in my lap was enough to convince me to take her back to my apartment. Luckily, it was a short distance to my place, there was no way I should have been driving after the number of beers I'd had. As it turned out, this was not the only bad decision I'd be making tonight.

When we got to my apartment, I went all caveman and threw Brenda over my shoulder, then unlocked the door. She didn't weigh much, a lot lighter than that fucker Josh Morgan, so it was a breeze. Carrying her into the bedroom, I threw her unceremoniously on the bed.

"Take off your clothes, you fucking tease," I growled, "and show me those tits and ass you were wagging around me in the bar."

She slid off the edge of the bed and stood up, removing her boots and the rest of her clothes as I stared.

"Turn around," I demanded. She complied, and I enjoyed what I saw. Since I had no emotional connection, I evaluated her like a piece of meat.

"Hmmm, tits are a little saggy, but in good shape. Those nipples look like they've fed some babies in the past, but still look delicious. A little cottage cheese on the ass and thighs, stretchmarks on the belly. How old are you?"

"I'm 49." She kept her chin up, trying to keep her dignity. I stepped up to her and ran my hands up and down her body, rubbing her ass cheeks then squeezing her boobs.

Despite my foul mood, I had to be honest, "You look pretty fucking good for 49, let me tell you. There's a bottle of Jim Beam and two shot glasses in the upper left kitchen cabinet. Go get them." I admired her ass as she walked into the kitchen, thinking how having a naked woman waiting on me was a new sensation, but one I kind of liked.

She returned with the bottle and two shot glasses and set them on the table. I snapped at her, "Are you going to pour, bitch, or are we just going to look at the bottle all night?"

She immediately poured two shots, and I handed her one. "Drink," I commanded. She knocked it back. I handed her the second shot glass. "Take another drink," I commanded, "then fill them up again." She quickly complied, spilling a little. I noticed her hands were a little unsteady now. Good. I threw back one shot, then handed her the other. "Again." She downed it, then handed it back to me.

"Now undress me." Clumsily, she unbuttoned my shirt and took it off, stumbling a couple of steps as she did so. I was pleased, the alcohol was doing its job on both of us. She took off my shoes and socks, then slipped my pants off falling to her knees as she did so. My erection was full on now.

"Claudia was a woman I wanted to marry, but instead she threw me aside. Tell me Brenda, I'm young and plenty strong. Is there something wrong with my body? Am I in any way disgusting?"

Brenda shook her dead, assuring me, "No, Darren, your body is fucking hot! That Claudia was a dumb bitch for leaving you."

I was plenty angry at Claudia, but it enraged me that this cheap barfly would dare to criticize my goddess. I picked her up and effortlessly threw her back on the bed, and slapped her bare ass cheek hard, "Shut your whore mouth! You're not Claudia! You'll never be Claudia!"

I had to hand it to Brenda, even drunk she had plenty of fire in her. She fired back, "Make me shut up, you bastard! Fuck me so hard I can't breathe! I'm a filthy whore. Fuck me hard, stud. Make my pussy so sore it'll be hard for me to walk tomorrow! You'll forget all about that stupid cunt Claudia!"

"You want me to be a bastard, fine. I'll be a bastard all right. Claudia's perfect! You're just a cheap slut!" Angrily, I pinched her tits and twisted her nipples.

Instead of surrendering, Brenda began to taunt me! "Oh, yeah, I'm a whore! Hurt me, you son of a bitch! Squeeze them titties! Come on, FUCK ME you bastard!" Pushing her knees up next to her ears, I thrust my cock deeply into her pussy with all the energy I could muster, making contact with her cervix. She howled, and I covered her face with a pillow to muffle her noises as I pounded away at her.

After a few minutes of my relentless pounding, she began to screech beneath the pillow. I could feel her whole body stiffen. I leaned my head down and bit her shoulder. A final scream and she came hard, her body shaking and twitching. She exploded over my cock, showering my dick with her fluids.

I could feel my climax quickly building, but I didn't want this to end yet. I pulled out of her, switching positions so my hard member was shoved against her lips. She opened her mouth and swallowed more than half my 7 inches, then she tilted her head, and managed to get an inch more, my cock-head pressed to the back of her throat.

Brenda wasn't done yet, though. Moving forward, her nostrils flared as she worked my dick into her throat until her nose pressed into my pubic hairs. She'd swallowed all of me, another first.

She bobbed her head a few times, sliding me in and out of her throat, her hands pulling and squeezing on my shaft. Finally, I couldn't hold back any longer and my balls jetted, filling and overflowing her throat. "AHHHHHHH! YOU HOT SLUT," I shouted as I climaxed, spewing a second jet of semen directly down her throat and into her stomach.

She was a mess, rivulets of cum slithered over her lips, down her chin, and onto the bedsheet. She closed her mouth and swallowed, smiling as my load slid down her throat.

"How was that, stud," she asked hoarsely, "have you ever had a blowjob that good?" Brenda may have been a cheap bar whore, but she was right. It was the best I'd ever had. I was angry, drunk, and hornier than I'd ever been. Abandoning what little self-respect remained in me, I pressed my lips on hers and forced my tongue into her cum-coated mouth. I'd devolved into a concupiscent animal, all I wanted to do was fuck her repeatedly.

By then I was erect again, so I grabbing a condom from the nightstand, I took her from behind. She offered no resistance, instead pushing back against my thrusts, allowing me to take her like a wild beast. After we both came, she took me in her mouth again, draining whatever baby batter I had remaining as I used my fingers to bring her off one more time.

Alas, even the endurance of youth has its limits. I finally collapsed onto my back, exhausted. Maybe because I had grown used to Claudia engaging in post-coital snuggles, I expected Brenda to snuggle up to me; instead, she'd moved away towards the edge of the bed, in her own world with her back to me and quickly fallen asleep.

Instead of the incredibly good feeling that followed a session of lovemaking with Claudia, I only felt a void. Despite my Herculean-level copulation with Brenda, I still felt lost and empty as I lay there staring at the ceiling.

++++++++++

The previous night I'd neglected to close the curtains all the way, so I was awakened by a beam of sunlight coming in through the crack between them that hit me in the eyes. I got up to pee, took some ibuprofen to calm my throbbing head, then jumped into the shower. The super-hot water beat most of the pain out of my neck and shoulders, and I began to feel better.

When I went back to bed, Brenda was still asleep. She lay on her back, eyes closed, her head turned towards me. The sun's natural light revealed a few more wrinkles in her face than I'd seen in the artificial light of the night before. Leaning over, I gently moved some of her tousled red hair away from her freckled face. I had to admit, even without alcohol in me, she was an attractive woman. My stiffening cock agreed with me.

I lifted up the covers and peeked at her naked shoulders and breasts. A few bite marks were showing, and I felt the urge to leave a few more. Slipping under the covers, I moved down to the soft roll of flesh below her navel. Kissing my way south, I gently parted her legs and started covering her downy red bush with butterfly kisses. Then, parting her outer labia with my fingers, I kissed her inner labia, using my tongue to tease them awake.

"Ooo, ooo, ooo," she murmured. I felt her fingers reach down and stoke my hair. I began to lick and suck more firmly, and her groans became louder as she pushed her mound against my mouth, "AAAH, AAAH, AAAH!"

"Good morning, my queen," I murmured, "do you want your knight to mount the royal pussy again?"

"Yessssss" she hissed, "please fuck me!"

I kissed my way up to her navel, my hardness lining up with her womanhood. "I fucked you like a whore last night, now I'm going to fuck you like a lover. Would you like that?" I clamped my lips down on her left nipple and lightly nibbled with my teeth.

"Oh, God, Darren, fuck me however you want, but please fuck me!" I moved up and pressed my mouth on hers as I slipped my hardness into her welcoming pussy. "Ohhhhh,' she groaned beneath my mouth, "gently please, my poor pussy is sore this morning."

I began to stroke ever so slowly, and murmured in her ear, "You really are beautiful, Brenda. A man could lose himself in you." As I stroked a little faster, I reached down, cupping her ass cheeks in my hands, "I don't have a condom on, maybe I'll plant a baby in you."

"Oh no, Darren, please don't cum inside me, that would be bad," she begged, even as she was pushing her mound back against my thrusts.

"Do you want me to stop, Brenda? You're so fucking sexy, I'm very close." I gave one hard thrust before slowing down again. I felt her hands squeezing my shoulders like handgrips.

"AHHHHHHH! Nooooo, please don't stop, oh DARRRRRRENNNNNN!!!" Brenda gritted her teeth and went rigid, an orgasm ripping through her. I felt her vaginal muscles clamping down on me, and it brought me to the brink. Suddenly, it was show time for me.

"AAAAAGH!" I cried out, luckily managing to pull out of her pussy in time. My balls emptied, two ropes of cum spurting out of me onto her lovely pale belly. It would have been more, but Brenda had seriously drained my sperm output the night before; my two factories hadn't caught up.

I slid off of her and we laid side by side in a warm embrace. Her hand moved up and stroked my face. "I've never had such a nice wake-up in my whole life," she said, "You are an amazing lover, Darren."

"Brenda, I have to apologize, last night I wasn't myself," I said, "I was dealing with being dumped and ended up anger-fucking you. That was unfair. You're a lovely woman. I wanted to really make love to you this morning and treat you right."

Brenda giggled, "Oh, lover, that you did. You were wonderful, thank you." She lightly kissed my lips. It felt good. I hadn't given her Claudia-level kisses yet, but my resolution was weakening.

I ran my finger across her left collarbone up to her neck. "Brenda, I was wondering, we just met and everything, but, well, do you think there's a chance you and I could maybe be more than just this?"

Suddenly, Brenda's demeanor changed. Her voice became quite serious, "Darren, honey, you're a sweet man and a wonderful lover, but it can't be more than this. I have a husband."

"Wait, you're MARRIED?" Suddenly, I was numb from head to toe.

"Yes, my husband's a long-haul truck driver. He's driving through Pennsylvania right now, hauling 30,000 pounds of produce through Scranton. I used to travel with him until I developed motion sickness riding in his truck, so now he drives by himself. Long-haul trucking can be lonely, and those truck stops are full of female lot lizards so I'm guessing he's having his needs attended to.

With my two girls in college and out of the house, I have an empty nest. It's awfully lonely, so it's only fair once in a while I go out for some company and see that my needs are tended to."

I groaned, "Ohhhhhh, no. This is terrible. Where are your rings?" She kissed my chest. Five minutes ago, that would have been enough to get me up for another round but now, I barely felt it.

"Oh, hell, I left them at home. I mean, if I'd been wearing them, you wouldn't have given me a second look at the bar, ain't that right?"

"Yes," I mumbled. In my state of shock, it was all I could manage.

"Darren, let me tell you something. You were easy pickings. Seeing you at the bar by yourself playing all those sad songs on the jukebox, anyone could see you were hurting. That's why I made a play for you. Now I'm almost sorry that I did; you're a sweet man and a fantastic lover.

It's clear you got a lot of love inside you. You'd better believe I wish I was younger and single so I could have you for myself. Whoever this Claudia bitch was that threw you away, well, she was out of her fucking mind."

Red Cloud's words suddenly flashed back in my head. 'We do not want riches. We want peace and love.' The one person I loved that could bring me peace, I couldn't have. For a brief moment I held hope that this naked woman lying next to me might bring me peace, but now I couldn't have her either. I felt myself choke up, and tears formed in my eyes.

I whispered, "You need to leave now Brenda."

She got up and dressed, then turned to me and said, "Darren, I do like you a lot. Can I ever see you again, even if it's just for one night?"

I couldn't look at her. Instead, I stared at the ceiling. "No," I whispered. I heard her steps, then heard the front door open and close. I fell asleep, again dreaming about staying afloat and looking in vain for Claudia. Damn.

When I woke up it was after 2pm. I stood in the shower and, using a long-handled shower brush I scrubbed myself until my skin was cherry red and the hot water ran out. Even that wasn't enough to cleanse me of the self-loathing that filled me inside; I felt like I'd never be clean again.

I thought of Dave Swanson's parting words to me on Friday, 'Do yourself a favor and go get laid or something.' Yeah that worked out really well, didn't it? Fuck you Dave, you fucking fuck.

++++++++++

For the next two weeks, despite my own internal bitterness I remained true to the oath I swore to myself at Larry's Lookout and lightened up on my teammates. I was still putting in my 60+ hours, but I tried to be like the old Darren, a good coworker and a funny guy. People seemed to relax in my presence now, but productivity remained high. Of course, the only thing that's permanent is change, and so fate threw me another curveball.

One Friday at 4pm, like the harbinger of doom that he was, Tom Tucker stuck his head in my cubicle and announced, "Hey Darren, Mr. Sandor wants to see you in his office right away." My 9 months away from the office had done nothing to change how I felt about Tom, he was still the same jerk he'd been a year ago.

Tom had a grin on his face like he knew it was bad news for me, but then again, his grin always looked like that. I ignored him per usual and headed up to the 6th floor of our building to visit Mahogany Row. What now?