The Things We Leave Behind

She knew it was wrong, but this was the only time she’d even been able to just stare at a man’s cock. No one would know, no one could judge her. It was completely shaved, and he was circumcised. She stepped back to keep herself from answering the impulse to reach out and touch it. Shelly went back to the ottoman leaving the sheet where it fell.

She turned the footrest so she could face toward the bed. She squatted, pressing herself against the yielding corner. A shiver passed through her body. She closed her eyes and listened. Silence. Yet she no longer felt alone. Her eyes opened and she focused on the man’s body just across the room.

He was only sleeping, oblivious to her intrusion. Shelly’s mind slowly constructed the fantasy, shading this situation with illusions of normalcy. Her hips shifted forward and back. They are lovers. She met him at a club, took him home and seduced him. She chose him. Her rhythm quickened. She could feel the wetness soaking into her panties.

She used him to satisfy herself. He was nothing more than a hard cock, a pair of strong hands, and a willing mouth. Shelly had forgotten how good this felt. The pressure, the motion, the building anticipation of release. She used him in every way she desired except for this last service. She would take her pleasure from his exposed nakedness.

Shelly’s legs quivered with the effort, her hands gripped the sides of the leather ottoman. Soft quick sighs of mounting bliss escaped her lips in pace with her gyrations. And still her eyes were locked on his body. The bad memories no longer stirred, she was in control here. He was vulnerable, unable to hurt her, incapable of rejecting her.

She was almost there. Her orgasm began as a deep, almost imperceptible fluttering. Everything became blurred and gray. Only his cock remained clearly in focus. The cock that was hers to do with as she pleased. That smooth beautiful cock. Waves of exquisite sensation pulsed through her pussy. This was it. No holding back now, she was going to cum while looking at his cock still wet with her pussy juices.

Shelly humped the corner of the ottoman with an animal intensity. Her hair fell across her face, and her sighs of pleasure were now cries of ecstasy. The leather was slick where her wetness had soaked through her pants. The full effect of her orgasm was almost upon her.

“Yes! I’m going to cum,” she called out. “I’m going to make my pussy cum.” Her already frantic pace increased even more. “I’m going to make my cunt cum!”

Her breath caught in her chest as the full force of her orgasm unleashed itself. She stopped and squeezed her legs tight against the corner. The sensation blossomed between her legs and spread through her body. She drew a long slow shuddering breath, savoring every tingle, each vibration.

She rubbed herself slowly on the edge, coaxing every last shivery feeling from her pussy. She leaned forward, resting her weight onto the cushion. She stayed that way, splayed out across the ottoman, until her breathing finally slowed. Every part of her felt alive.

“Oh god, what did I just do?” She slid off the ottoman onto her knees and looked across to the body on the bed. “What the fuck did I just do?”

She stayed that way for several long moments trying to sort out what had come over her. This made no sense. This wasn’t who she was. This isn’t something she would do. She’s a police officer, a detective, for god’s sake!

Shelly hurried across to the bed and spread the sheet over the dead man’s body. She consciously avoided looking directly at, or even noticing, his naked genitals. Once he was covered, she gathered a wad of toilet paper from the bathroom and wiped the corner of the ottoman clean, arranging it back to the way she found it.

She slid the top drawer of the dresser closed on her way back to the bathroom, where she flushed the soiled tissue. She found a blow dryer in the cabinet beneath the sink and used it on the wet spot on her pants. It seemed to take forever to dry. This time when she looked in the mirror she could see the blush still in her cheeks from her exertions, and a faint sheen of sweat on her forehead and neck.

She scooped up her blazer on her way to the sliding door. She ruffled the carpet here and there, erasing the obvious impressions her bare feet left in places. She stood at the exit surveying the room. Was everything where it belonged? What did she forget? She reached for the light switch. The dildo!

Shelly hurried to the chair. She grabbed the pink phallus and froze. Then the sound came again, it was the doorbell. Transport was here. She rushed out, flicking off the lights as she went. Halfway across the living room she realized she was still holding the vibrator. There was no place to stash it so she tucked it into the inside pocket of her jacket.

The two E.M.T.s at the door looked exhausted and generally disinterested.

“Pick up for the city morgue?” one of them inquired.

“This is it,” she acknowledged and they wheeled the stretcher in. “Follow me.” Shelly led them down the hall and through the living room to the false closet. She waited there while they struggled to get the stretcher through the small opening. She listened as they went about their work without conversation.

Finally they reappeared, the too familiar sight of a body bag strapped to the white cushion of the stretcher. A sudden sadness welled up within her, as if they were taking something of hers away. She fought to control the feeling and followed the E.M.T.s out the front door. Almost as soon as she pulled the door closed behind her and she heard the mechanical sound of the lock clicking home she wanted to go back in.

It was like she was leaving something behind, something of herself. She knew now that she experienced a momentary sense of wholeness in there. Conflicting emotions came and went from one instant to the next. Things that always made sense hurt, and the inconceivable felt somehow right. Was this what a nervous breakdown felt like?

“I am not the same person I was before I walked into that apartment,” She thought while waiting with the others for the elevator.

The doors opened and Shelly went in first. The E.M.T.s maneuvered the stretcher in with practiced efficiency. They turned and watched the display count down the floors. Shelly knew this would be the last time she would be with him. She reached out to touch his shoulder through the thick black plastic. Just before she touched him she caught a glimpse of herself in the reflective surface of the elevator doors and drew her hand back.

They passed through the lobby, the rubber wheels of the stretcher rolling almost soundlessly across the marble floor. Shelly went to the desk and signed them all out. The guard thanked her and smiled. As she was about to go he spoke.

“I like your hair better like that.”

Her heart jumped. How could she be so stupid? She had forgotten her hair combs on the bathroom counter. She needed to get them out of there, but she couldn’t right now.

“Thanks,” she tried to convincingly return the guard’s smile. “I may need to come back tomorrow for a follow up. Please make sure no one enters the apartment in the meantime.”

“No problem, have a good night Detective.”

As she turned to leave she became abruptly aware of the weight in her pocket. Her hand moved reflexively to the concealed vibrator.

“I believe I will,” she answered and headed for home.