Out of the corner of my eye I saw that Danielle was distressed and was staring at anything except the man and I, and Wallace was glowering, forever silently disapproving of my games. A heard a soft chuckle coming from the open doorway to the backroom that the guy had just emerged from, but he seemed oblivious to everything except the gleam of the light against my soaked body and the slight quivering of my aroused nipples. For him each second was an eternity of insatiable lust, and he probably only had a handful of seconds of sanity left within his flooded mind. He mumbled "yes" almost desperately, then repeated the word, as if answering a question that he imagined I'd asked.
My eyes narrowed, and leaning against him fully, I kissed his now-soaked shirt. Before he could wrap his arms around me and devour me with his lips, I pulled away from him fully, and for a moment, he almost lost his balance. Hips swaying almost ridiculously, I turned around and walked to my private room within the penthouse. I didn't see it, but I can imagine the pure pain on his face when he heard the door lock behind me, his wild fantasies abruptly bursting. With my ear against the door, I could hear him swallowing from the center of the living room, and then with what sounded like a whine, he half-walked, half-ran, right back into the room where he'd just spent the last half an hour. I heard excited laughter from the whore within, then that door, too, was locked. High on pot and on sexual tension, I smiled despite myself, and collapsed on my bed, still floating.
* * * * *
I'm not sure how much time passed. I wasn't even aware that I'd been asleep. Suddenly, though, there was a knock on the door to my room, and my eyes opened groggily. My hands were between my legs and the blankets beneath me were soaked from more than just water. I wasn't embarrassed, being as indifferent as I am, and the fact that I was still a touch high only added to my lack of concern. I crawled out of bed and opened the door with a heavy, sleepy hand.
Dani was standing on the other side of the door, and she was clearly shocked by being so close to my carelessly naked self. Her blue eyes flared wide open, and her petite frame seemed to shiver. Almost immediately, she was staring at the ground, and she spoke to it as well.
"Ira, can I ask you a question?"
I nodded and stepped away from the door to let her in. My head was clearing pretty quickly, and though I felt no shame, I wanted Dani to be comfortable. She stood against one wall, still studying the floor, while I began to towel myself off. When I was dry, I went to the dresser and began fishing for something more suitable and 'proper'. I had just slipped on some panties when she spoke again.
"How do you do it?"
I was reaching for a bra at the time, and I paused, my back facing her. "Do what, Dani?" When she didn't answer right away, I resumed dressing. I grabbed the bra, but quickly decided against slipping it on. I stuffed it back into the drawer, then I turned to look at her. Dani always seemed to need some prompting before she would speak. Though she was making eye contact with the carpet, she knew I was watching her.
"You know what I mean, Ira. Your confidence. It seems like nothing in the world could make you feel uncomfortable. You're always in control."
I smirked softly, then turned my back again, slipping on a pair of charcoal-colored suit pants. I thought about it for a moment, then spoke over my shoulder to her. "I've always been this way, I suppose. I know who I am and I know what I want." I'm a philosophical individual, don't get me wrong, but not in public. My thoughts are almost always introspective, and I rarely see the point in pondering great mysteries through conversation. So, I answered simply as I fastened a thin black leather belt around my waist. Dani, of course, understood my tendency towards surface triviality, and probed further.
"There's more to it than that, and you know it. People can know who they are and what they want and still find themselves in situations that they don't want to be in. That's because most people can only control themselves. Either you know how to control others, Ira, or you just don't care what happens to you."
That was blunt enough to catch my attention, especially considering the speaker. I was only clad from the waist down, but for the moment, I forgot about dressing. The girl had actually caught me off guard. I thought about it for a minute, and then reached for the matching charcoal jacket without answering. I slid my naked arms through the sleeves and buttoned only one of the buttons. This left a little triangle of my stomach, and a fair amount of cleavage, still showing. I picked up a pair of black leather sandals (I was tall enough to have no need for high heels), and with those shoes in hand, I turned to face her once more. I moved to sit down on a corner of the bed. I was still holding the sandals, but I was staring straight at Dani. I finally answered, and this time, in more depth.
"I think that you gain control over others by being confident. People can sense confidence in others, and the more confident you are, the more they are drawn to you. Even natural leaders can turn into mindless followers if they think that you know where you're going in life. Most people are more than happy to collar themselves and hand you the leash if you give off an air of omniscient firmness. Nobody has control over anyone else, but if you can't be shaken, then people let themselves be controlled by you." I felt that my answer was more than sufficient, and so I began to buckle the leather straps of the sandals around my feet. Dani responded almost immediately.
"You're right, of course, Ira, but you left out one small detail. How do you become so confident in the first place? People can see through a ruse. They won't surrender their willpower to you if you're acting stronger than you really are."
I nodded, and grinning, fired back right away. "True. That's why you have to learn to not care what happens to you. That way, you're not acting."
The irony of the link made her chuckle, and she moved to sit down next to me. Though I wasn't a large woman myself, the extent of her litheness surprised me yet again. I shook my head gently, enough so that my hair took brief flight and landed behind me. As she watched, I pulled it back into a tight ponytail and bound it with a clip, leaving my barely-covered chest in full view. She seemed fascinated for a moment with my actions, then shook her own blonde curls, though only to refocus her thoughts.
"How can you be indifferent, though? I do your books, so I know just how shamelessly rich you are, and Wallace told me once about your… peculiar taste in men. Are you indifferent because you have everything you want? Are your desires so fulfilled that you've lost interest in yourself?"
It was a smart question, but the only flaw in her reasoning was the fact that I'd been apathetic my whole life. I was apathetic while I was still working my way up the ranks in the Minneapolis drug hierarchy. I was apathetic back when I was a rent-a-slut, before my substance career had even begun. Hell, even as an innocent teenager, if you can believe that I ever was one, I'd had very little feeling or care for life. I didn't tell her that, as I sat there next to her. Instead, I merely replied that I'd never really felt challenged, and that it's hard to feel affectionate about existence when you don't have to struggle to achieve that which you want. After all, I was only 29, and I was surrounded by wealth and power of my own making.
She seemed angry for a moment, or perhaps she was only bitter. In a detached sort of way, I found it exciting to watch her young face run the gamut of emotion. The way her eyebrows moved, like two rafts on a river of thought, was suddenly sensual, and I found myself becoming very aware of her nearness. As I waited for her to speak, I idly wondered if I should have worn a bra after all, or if I should button the suit jacket fully. When she did finally respond, and it took Dani a couple of minutes to do so, there was a certain crispness to her voice.
"Of course you don't feel challenged, Ira. All you do in life is pray on weakness." Dani continued before I could even snap back. "Look at your career. You've always sold that which weak people desire. It was true when you were selling yourself and it's true now, too. You dangle fulfillment above the noses of the spiritually crippled, and find amusement in watching them, predictably, fall victim to desire. It's the same with your little fetish, too. I used to think that you were just slumming it. Now I just know that you're attracted to weakness. If you're bored with the lack of challenge in your life, perhaps it's because you never enter into situations where there's even the slightest chance that you won't command full control."
I found myself getting angry. Having people understand you, to me, always felt like a form of rape. I felt invaded, and I didn't like it. I briefly considered slapping the girl, but chose to do it with the ice in my voice instead. "What the hell do you care how I live my life, accountant? At least if I want something, I take it, instead of spending my life staring at the floor."
Strangely, she didn't seem injured at all. She nodded, as if accepting my analysis without complaint. Maybe she had been ready for it. I wasn't sure if she was taking satisfaction in this conversation or not. I had no idea what her motive was. Before I could think about it, she responded.
"Yes, Ira, I'm afraid of risks. Just like you. At least I hold out hope that I'll find the courage to take those risks, thereby attaining true fulfillment. You just content yourself with conquering the easily conquered. You don't care what happens to you because you gave up long ago. You've settled for the weakest substitute for joy that you can find."
I was positively fuming. I stood up, and would have slapped her for real this time, but just then I saw Wallace standing in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. Ah, how it all made sense then. They were in it together. A bloodless little happiness coup. I knew in the back of my mind that they were doing this because they styled themselves my friends, but I was angry nonetheless. I paid them help me run my empire, not to partake in some sort of tag-team therapy. I loved to be held down and taken by force by the thugs of the street, but this… this I couldn't handle. I shot them both a look of death, and without a word, stormed from the penthouse.
* * * * *
Most people like to gun the engines of their cars and drive like a bat out of hell when their thoughts are jumbled. I owned a 2002 Porsche, a silver 911 Carrera 4S, which is a fine car for driving while brooding. I was a creature of the street, though, and I felt like walking. After all, remember how I get my thrills.
So I left the Porsche in the heated garage underneath my building and began to pace with direction. I was generally headed towards my Lake Street apartment, but only generally. I embraced the heat, enjoying the slick chill of the occasional breeze that tickled the sweat on my practically exposed breasts. I ignored the glances and the catcalls that I inevitably received. I didn't even look at the others on the street. I didn't see them or the buildings that towered above me as I made my way through downtown. In my mind I was replaying Dani's quiet tirade.
I honestly didn't know what to think or how to feel. I felt at once focused and distracted, and I was having trouble thinking. I had some demons to work out of my system, and when the streets started to reflect the poverty of the people that lived on them, I felt relieved. I was on my turf again. Here I was in control, as Dani had so bluntly announced. Well good. I wanted to feel control again. I didn't like the chaotic maze that was brewing in my mind. I needed to remind myself of my power.
As the sun set around me, I began to hunt. I wanted to dine on weakness. I needed to take what I wanted so that I could begin to order my thoughts again. I needed the charged calm that I only felt after I'd had my way with a random representative the dejected masses of the streets. A few blocks later, I found the perfect target.
It was an alley laced with garbage but otherwise barren, and at first I thought the pile of clothes was just part of the abandoned trash. But it wasn't. It had form. I moved down the alley towards the pile and looked down at the man that filled it.
He was a frail thing, really. Old, too. Obviously homeless and obviously spiritless. Perfect. The odor of cheap beer intoxicated me. The alternating pattern of sharp stubble and greasy hair that framed his face awakened my desire. His hawkish, perpetually starved features beckoned me. He was passed out, snoring without sound, and dressed in a faded, reduced-to-rags $10 suit that oddly mirrored my own. The suit, despite its stains, could still be identified as dark brown, and the once-white shirt beneath his jacket was matted to his thin body by the heat that he had apparently slept through. I forced away my conflicting thoughts of doubt and focused on the moment. Silently, I knelt down beside him, next to his weathered legs, and slipped his pants down a few inches.
His piece was predictably limp, but at least he hadn't wet himself during the course of the day. Even I had my limits. My fingers explored the texture of his balls, and the prickly feeling of his pubic hair delighted me. It was a thick layer of short sharp white and gray stubble, and I ran my palm against his sack slowly, closing my eyes to focus on the sandpaper feel of his skin. I petted his sack for a few moments more then opened my eyes. He was still out like a light, but his breathing was a bit more haggard, and his silent snores had stopped. His jaw was slack and his mouth was agape, but he made not a sound.
I gave his balls a good squeeze, then let the tips of my fingers trail across his sharp patch of hair to his cock. He really was an old badger, this one, and as my hand cupped his limp little lifelong friend, I wondered about the course of his life. I rubbed my hand against him in small circles, feeling a bit of firmness awakening in the wake of my touch, and I thought about what events had brought him into this type of existence. Had he always been poor, or had he been somebody once? What sights had his old eyes seen during his life? Had he traveled the world or only alleys like this one? Had he known love, and if he had, how had that love been lost? Did he have family somewhere, or was he truly alone? As his still mostly-flaccid cock slipped past my eager lips into my wet mouth, I wondered how many decades it had been since he'd known the touch of a woman.
I formed a circle around his cock with my red lips and stopped thinking.
I let my tongue drag heavily across his cock, licking it slowly and forcefully like a cat would its newborn kitten. I rolled his cock around with my tongue, letting all sides of it feel my rubbery wet massage. I worked my lips in slow circles, and breathing calmly through my nose, continually exhaled against his crotch. His pubic hair was stabbing me, mauling my cheeks and my chin, and I loved it. I nestled my mouth against him and sucked, as if trying to pull his cock right off his body. He truly started coming alive within my mouth then, and I responded by bathing his firm, yet still somewhat soft, cock with an even more vigorous tongue. He wasn't impressively endowed, but a shaft sliding down your throat is still a shaft sliding down your throat. And that's where I guided him, letting him slip in and out of my throat while my tongue licked at the underside of his cock, at the base of his swelling head. And all the while, I kept my face buried against his sharp stubble, as if I was trying to dig right through it.
He made a noise then, and when my gaze flickered in his direction, I saw that he was awake. He was staring at me with a combination of confusion, surprise, and crazy longing, but all three expressions were subdued by his liquor-induced stupor. He probably thought he was dreaming, or merely couldn't fathom reality anymore, and so he sent his trembling, bony hands to grasp my hair, to touch it, to test its realness.
I responded by moving to straddle his lower legs, without missing a single fluid motion with my paradise mouth. His cock was fully erect now, and it was long enough to allow me to bob against it, my mouth sliding away from his cock, lips and tongue dragging against its flesh, only to drive his cock back down my throat to the hilt. He was half groaning and half jabbering, and his hands were grabbing the back of my head. He didn't have the strength to control my movements, but his hands did provide a certain resistance every time I started to slide his cock out of my mouth.
Again and again I attacked his sharp stubble with the edges of my mouth, and again and again this bewildered old man felt his cock bury itself within the tight muscles of a mysterious beauty's throat. The noises that he was making were entirely incoherent, but his pleasure was obvious. He was blabbering and whimpering and cackling all at once it seemed, and as I continued to give him the blow job of his life, his head rolled around and around on a weak neck, as if it was a chained animal that was trying to writhe its way to freedom.
He still hadn't cum, and I was impressed by his endurance. Quite often, an undersexed old man is spent after a minute. But the hands on my expensive watch continued to circle each other, and he remained hard. This excited me endlessly. I lavished genuine affection on his prickly rod, until I eventually realized that I could take him even further.
Excellent.
I slid my mouth off his cock, and there was a wet smacking sound as his piece slapped against his skin. It was the first time the head of his cock had been outside of my mouth in almost fifteen minutes. The bum started to jabber more anxiously, obviously not wanting it to end, but I had better things in store for him. I wrestled his balls with one hand while I unbuttoned my jacket with the other, allowing my jacket to fall open, revealing my firm and sorely neglected breasts beneath. The man almost screamed with ignorant delight, and his hands immediately began to strain to reach my chest. I had his legs pinned down as I still straddled him, and he didn't have the strength to sit up. He continued to reach in vain, wide-eyed and insane with the desire to feel my youthful flesh.
I smiled, literally drunk with the power I had over him. I let my jacket continue to hang from my shoulders as I started pumping his cock with one hand. My other hand slowly unfastened my belt and slipped the suit pants past the curves of my slowly gyrating hips. I let go of him and slipped off him then, laying down on my back near his legs. I slid my pants off fully and spread my long legs wide. My jacket surrounded my torso like a charcoal halo as I lay on the hard alley ground, and with one hand, I slid my underwear off, my legs and ass hovering gracefully in the air as I did so. He had rolled over onto his stomach by now and he was crawling my way. I was naked except for my shoes and the open suit jacket, and every single charm I possessed was open to the man, including the second set of eager lips that he would get to taste tonight.
He was breathing heavily now, quick short shallow raspy breaths, and I was convinced that he still had no grasp on reality. His instinct was guiding him, and he had no comprehension of foreplay. With my back on the ground and with my legs spread, my knees arched in the air with my hips and shoes still touching the ground, there were no barriers for him. He didn't even stop to tear off his meager clothing, though his pants were bunched at his ankles from the crawling.
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