tagErotic CouplingsThe Last Nice Guy in Town

The Last Nice Guy in Town


Connor Anderson was hunched over and scribbling furiously in his notebook when the bell above the door jingled. For the last hour he'd been on a roll, he was in his fourth year of college studying Psychology and he supplemented his school fees and living expenses by working nights at the local liquor store. Being a Monday night, it had been slow and not at all steady, so he'd been able to get a lot of work done on his thesis while getting paid at the same time.

Looking up at the customer that had just entered, he could tell two things about her straight off.

One: She was incredibly cute. Wearing a skin-tight, canary-yellow top that hugged the generous curves of her breasts and a midnight-black mini-skirt that barely covered her thighs; she could turn the head of a man in traction. Her skin appeared pale in the fluorescent light and her face had been lightly applied with make-up, but what really grabbed his attention was her hair, it was simply lovely. Blond with strawberry highlights, it was tucked back into a simple and efficient pony-tail that bobbed up and down as she walked.

Two: She was underage, she looked twenty-two or twenty-three the way she was dressed and the way her face was done up, but her eyes gave her away. They flickered ever so slightly in his direction as she strode over to the spirits section and plucked a bottle of Vodka from the shelf.

Customers rarely did two of the things she just did. They rarely look at you when they enter the store, and they never look at you nervously if they do. Only in his experience would a girl that looked as young as she did walk directly over and pick up a bottle that fast. No browsing, no casual checking the prices of all the different types of Vodka, she just grabbed what she wanted and brought it over to the counter.

She gave him a quick smile and placed the bottle next to his Psychology text book.

"Just this one, please," she said, her voice soft and sad. She already had a note in her hand which was another giveaway. Customers never have their money ready to pay for their things, and that's a universal truth, not a generalization.

Connor almost let her off the hook. Her entire demeanor conveyed a melancholy that he couldn't miss, and his heart went out to her. He could let her go, but it would be wrong.

"I'll just need to see some I.D. thanks."

What little of a smile that was on her face was whisked away in the blink of an eye, and she dropped her eyes down to her hands and studied them for a long moment.

"I don't suppose the old 'it's in the car' ruse would work, would it?" There was no trace of humor in her voice at all.

"I'm really sorry, but I could lose my job if I sell it to you and I really can't afford for that to happen."

"It's okay," she said, lifting her gaze to his face and flashing him a somewhat sexy smile.

It was hard not to let his line of sight drift downwards to her breasts, they were simply mouthwatering. Round and well-shaped, they were like the negative version of a magnet and his eyes the positive, but somehow he resisted the force of their magnetism and kept his eyes on her face. Not that it was any hardship, far from it; she had one of the prettiest faces he'd ever seen.

"So you're taking Psychology are you?" she asked, tapping his open text book with her index finger.

"Uh...yeah, I'm in my fourth year at the moment, working on my thesis right now as a matter of fact."

"So you're going to be a psychologist when you finish then, huh?"

She seemed genuinely interested, or was it that she just appeared to seem genuinely interested? He couldn't tell, sometimes his logic circuits blew when he was around a pretty girl, and this occasion was no exception.

"I sure hope so; I'm not doing four years of studying just to work in Larry's Liquorland the rest of my life."

Then, before he could speak or tell her to stop, she walked around the counter and slipped her arms around his waist. Before he knew what was happening she moved her hands around to his ass and began to grope and squeeze it.

"So if I were a nymphomaniac, you'd be the one to come and see for that, would you?" she asked, her stare hot and simmering.

Connor was simply speechless, this was the most bizarre and incredible incident that had happened to him in his two year tenure at Larry's Liquorland, and he'd seen a lot of strange shit.

"I...you...well, ahem, it would depend on whether your promiscuity was disrupting your daily life or harming you in any way, either physically or psychologically. Plus, I'm not qualified to determine any of that yet."

"I'll make it easy for you to diagnose me, okay?"

Connor was about to tell her that maybe she should get around the other side of the counter, when she suddenly let go of his ass and with a small jump sat herself up on the counter, facing him and spreading her legs wide apart.

"Give me your hand, Connor."

How did she...? Oh right, the nametag.

Swallowing, he held his hand out and she slipped hers lightly around his wrist, urging it forward and into the dark area under her skirt. Trembling slightly, his hand touched the warm flesh of her inner-thigh and she released her grip on him, allowing him free movement and to be able to stroke her soft skin. Since she'd entered his field of vision his cock had been starting to rise – it was now at full salute and as hard as granite.

"Hmm, that feels nice. Now, good girls wear panties don't they, Connor. But nasty little sluts, well, they don't wear panties at all, they only get in the way of cock. I think you should check to make sure what I am – a good little girl or a filthy slut."

As his hand moved further and further towards the ultimate goal, she reached over and began to caress his shoulders and his neck, kneading and massaging his tingling skin.

She moaned softly when his fingers finally found her sex. Instead of being rough like most guys were, he gently traced his index finger along the folds of her lips. She was warm and soft, and he wanted nothing more than to slide his finger deep inside her. But he didn't, he just stroked her lightly and savored the sensation of her pussy.

"You like that, huh?" she asked with a teasing smile.

"Whoa yeah."

"Imagine how fucking it would feel, sliding your cock deep inside me and pounding away, I'll even let you cum in me if you like. All you have to do is turn your head away as I leave, and maybe after fucking me you'll forget all about the bottle of Vodka you had sitting on the counter."

And that's when it hit him like a fist slamming into his face. What he was doing was wrong, it was dead wrong!

His fingers jerked back from her pussy as if scalded and he backed away from her. She had a startled look in her eyes and her hands jumped from his shoulders.

Shaking his head back and forth he cursed himself silently. He knew that there was something wrong with her, that she wasn't thinking straight, and he'd almost taken advantage of her.

"What?" she asked, all trace of the sex kitten had blown away and the air of sadness had returned.

"That isn't who you are, you're not like that and you know it."

"How could you possibly know that?" She wasn't even angry, she was just miserable looking. "For all you know I could be every bit the slut that I state I am, you felt for yourself, I don't have any underwear on."

He walked over to her and pressed his hands against both her knees, easing her legs closed. Then he wrapped his hands around her waist and lifted her from the counter, doing it in a formal and businesslike manner.

"So," she persisted, "why don't you want to fuck me?"

He sighed inwardly, if only she knew how much he wanted to, that if she so much as reached out and grabbed him he'd probably be a goner.

"Do you promise not to interrupt me if I tell you?"

She nodded her head slowly.

"Okay, first of all, your panties, it doesn't mean a thing. You could simply have run out of clean underwear, or, sometime tonight you had a run in with a guy, which by the way, doesn't mean you're a slut. I'm thinking that maybe you were fooling around with your boyfriend and that something happened, your nose is slightly red as if you've been rubbing at it with a tissue and I can tell that you've reapplied makeup around your eyes. You've been crying.

"Add to this the fact that you're wearing a bra, it doesn't make sense. Guys have more trouble with bras than panties, I know I do, so you're more likely to go completely loose if you're going to slut yourself around town."

"Okay, you've figured out I'm not that much of a slut, I'm just not a very fuckable girl am I?"

"Are you kidding? Look at you, you're the epitome of my every fantasy."

That made her smile and it looked completely genuine. Her entire face transformed when the corners of her mouth tilted upwards and all he wanted to do was reach out and kiss her.

"So c'mon, if I'm so fuckworthy why won't you do it? A girl has pride you know and I'm kind of curious, it's not every day I get turned down for sex."

"Okay, one," he said, holding up his index finger, "a scenario springs to mind. I give you the alcohol and you drink it all straight away, you drive home and you crash, killing yourself or someone else."

"I didn't dri–"

"Two," he interrupted, holding his middle finger going up. "I fuck you and you take the alcohol home and no harm is done, right?"

"Right," she said, nodding.

"Wrong. What if later on down the track you're behind on your rent or you owe money on your credit card? Your waitress salary, or whatever your job is, isn't bringing in enough to cover either and you need to make some money on the side. You cast your mind back to today and realize that simply by fucking me you got something, so maybe you decide to do it for money next time.

"Only now you realize that you can make more money in a day by lying on your back than you can by waiting tables for a week, and that's with tips. So you decide to do it full-time, only now you're beginning to get a little bit sore because you're fucking so many guys, nothing a little medication won't fix.

"Only the medication starts to become immune to you body, so you have to up the ante and go to the hard stuff – ecstasy, heroin, cocaine – but that costs so much that you have to fuck more guys to get it, and eventually it snowballs until you're lying facedown in a pool of your own vomit in the back of some dive after blowing some guy for a fifty, a needle sticking out of your arm and you're dead – over-dosed."

She was staring at him with wide-eyed wonder and her mouth was hanging agape. She was still one of the most desirable women he'd ever met but he couldn't do it, either of those scenarios could come true, and in fact, most probably the second.

"You know, you'll make a great psychologist one day," she said. It looked like she might start crying any second.

"That's what I'm hoping, and if I had sex with you, I could be helping you destroy yourself and the whole idea of what I want to do is to heal people. You're not like that, I can tell just by looking at you. You're a gorgeous young girl that's just a little bit mixed up at the moment, it happens to all of us, and you really don't want to do this."

All of a sudden tears began to stream out of her eyes and down her cheeks, just watching her cry choked him up and he had to swallow his own tears back.

Stepping forward, he slid his arms around her and hugged her tightly, a part of him cursing whatever had caused her to become this upset, yet simultaneously enjoying having such a lovely girl in his arms.

With college and work on his plate he didn't have a lot of time for socializing, he was 22-years-old and the last relationship he'd been in that had been sexual was over a year ago. A whole year without holding onto a girl and he suddenly realized just how much he missed the sensation.

Wrapping her arms around his neck she sobbed into his shirt, clutching him and pressing her body tightly against his. She was trembling slightly and it did nothing but slide her breasts up and down against his chest, causing his cock to jerk in his pants.

Christ, you're such an insensitive bastard, he screamed in his head.

After a few minutes she pulled her head away from his shoulder but didn't disentangle herself from him. She stared up into his eyes and managed a weak smile.

"You might possibly be the last decent guy in town, Connor. But tell me this, were you tempted, even just a little?"

He lifted a hand to her face and wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of his shirt, smiling at her.

"Believe me, you tested every moral bone in my body tonight. If anyone could have turned me to the dark side, it would've been you."

She laughed softly. "I think you just paid me a compliment, didn't you? It was kind of hard to tell."

Reaching behind her head with his right hand, he slid it gently over her pony-tail and played lightly with her hair. Then he moved his face towards hers and pressed his mouth against her soft lips, kissing her as tenderly as possible. After a few seconds of hesitation she kissed back, and for a moment they were both lost in soft murmurs and sliding tongues.

Before his lust took over he stopped and pulled his lips away from hers. They were shiny and wet, and after a moment her tongue darted out and licked at them.

"I'm going to close the shop up early and drive you home okay, you're in no condition to drive, you can leave your car in the lot for the night."

"I walked here, I don't have my car."

"Okay, just let me close up and then I'll dash you home."

She smiled at him and then moved her body away from his. As soon as the warmth of her body and the soft push of her breasts were gone, a pang of sorrow ebbed through him.

If he hadn't stopped her he probably would've been inside her right now, sliding in and out of her, fucking her and enjoying every second of it. Doing the right thing sure was difficult sometimes. But it was also rewarding, because he knew that he could live with himself and sleep at night with a clear conscience.

"Okay, that'd be nice," she said softly. "My name is Sophie by the way, Sophie Miller.

"Connor Anderson, pleased to meet you Sophie Miller."

^ ^ ^ ^ ^

It was Monday night again and Connor walked into the store at five minutes to five o'clock. He started his shift at five and worked till midnight Monday to Friday, then on weekends he usually labored over his build-up of Psychology work.

"Mr. Anderson," Larry slowly drawled at him from behind the counter. "We missed you."

Connor just shook his head and laughed. Larry was one of the biggest Matrix fans around and had probably thought more than once about changing his last name to Smith so that Connor could call him 'Agent Smith'. In fact, Connor loved being called Mr. Anderson because it was only one step removed from being Doctor instead of Mister.

"My name...is Neo," he shot back with a grin.

"Touché. So, how was your short, one week sabbatical my little psycho compadre?"

"Oh it was fun, I had a ball. I got to sit at my desk all day and do my thesis, but thanks Larry, I owe you one."

Larry waved a hand at him. "Nah, you're my best worker Connor, if you don't keep your good workers happy then you're apt to turn them into a bad apple, too."

Connor had taken the last week off because his thesis was almost due and he'd needed more time to spend on it. Larry, thank god, had insisted that he take the time off even though he knew that he was eventually going to lose his employee due to it.

They'd become good friends over the last two years, and their boss/staff relationship had grown beyond that and into something more comfortable. They both liked the other's personalities and they agreed on so many things, so their friendship had bloomed quite rapidly.

"Alright," Larry said, making his way towards the door, "it's been a pretty slow day so there's not a lot you can do. Maybe stock the fridges and face the store, but really, take a load off, I don't mind."

"Thanks Larry, I'm fucked after doing my thesis (there weren't any customers in the store, he never swore if there were) and a little bit of rest won't go astray."

"Goodbye...Mr. Anderson," Larry said in his Smith voice, but then halted as his hand reached for the doorknob. "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you."

"What's that?"

"This fantastic looking blond came in the other day asking for you, she wanted to know what day you were working next. When I told her you had the week off and you wouldn't be back until Monday, she wanted to know your phone number. Naturally I couldn't give it to her, but I was able to let her know that tonight was your next shift. Christ Connor, I sure wouldn't mind young hotties like that chasing after me, you lucky bastard. God, she had these tits that just begged to be squee–"

"Goodbye Larry," Connor interjected.

"Okay, okay, I'll shut up. Catch ya later, Mr. Anderson."

The door closed with a jingle and Connor was left to wander his thoughts in silence.

Over the past week his mind had gone off on a tangent as he worked on his thesis, images of Sophie had flashed through his thoughts all too often and he'd frustrated himself with fantasies of jumping in his car and speeding over to her house.

When he'd dropped her home they'd sat in the car for a moment, neither of them saying boo to one another. After they'd basked in the comfortable silence for a little while, she'd moved gracefully in her seat and slipped her hand against the side of his face, leaned over the center console and given him one of the most sensual and hottest kisses he'd ever received.

To say he'd fallen hard would be an understatement. And, he thought as he rubbed at his stiffening erection, as literal as much as it was metaphorical.

As the night wore on he became increasingly nervous, until finally he decided that she simply wasn't going to show up. Maybe it was best if he let it go and didn't try to contact her. Sure, there was something about her that appealed to him, but it was probably best to let sleeping dogs lie.

And then, at five minutes to twelve, as he was turning the outside neon sign off, the bell above the door jingled and in she walked.

"Hi," she said, smiling cutely at him. She walked over to him and gave him a quick kiss on the lips.

"Hi yourself," he replied. "You look so...different."

And she did. Instead of wearing a mini-skirt that barely covered her crotch and a skin hugging top, she'd donned a pair of pale blue jeans and a white cotton t-shirt with the words 'Heart Breaker' written across her breasts. Much to his delight her strawberry-blond hair remained tied back into a pony-tail, and the only makeup she wore was a light-pink lipstick that seemed to go incredibly well with her pale skin.

It wasn't just physical changes either, her face didn't look tight or worried, and the sadness had seemed to have eked out of her eyes and in its place was an infectious sparkle.

While some guys went for the tarted up look, Connor had to admit that he preferred the sweet young girl look better, because it perfectly contrasted the way she carried herself. There was an air of confidence in how she moved, most likely the result of years of having guys lust after her body and telling her how sexy she was.

"Different good or different bad?" she asked, cocking her head.

"Definitely a good different."

They both stood there for a few moments and looked at each other, and he couldn't help but wonder what was going to happen between them. He wanted her, pure and simple, but did she want him?

"You know...the other night, that wasn't me. I mean, I'm an extremely sexual person but I really wasn't thinking straight. Any other guy would've torn my clothes off and fucked me right over the counter without so much as a second thought."

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