Women of the Night: Miescha & Simon

"So like I was saying, he'd take me behind that club, and first it was just me slipping my hands around what I thought was a monster -- can you believe that, Momma? I was so naïve that I didn't even know what a dick was. That purple head, those veins... the little eye. I thought it winked at me, and I'd cry when they'd cum. I thought it was poison, Momma, and they always liked to cover my face. He'd spank me when I tried to pull away. Sometimes forced me to eat it for them too, and I hated it, hated the salty taste. Like when I had a sore throat and you forced me to gargle salt water -- I thought I was drowning on more poison, Momma, but you didn't know. I never told you." Miescha paused in her tale and looked at the veins lining the once elegant hand in hers. 'Someday, mine will look like that, too.'

"They liked to pet my body while they did it, too, and I was such a late bloomer -- you know how it hurts when you're growing. They pinched and twisted and tugged my nipples like a cow's udders, Momma. They didn't care when I cried, really. And after a while, they complained that I wasn't doing enough. So Sam, that was his name, wasn't it Momma? Sam had to teach me how to blow them. He made it real simple: if my teeth scraped his sensitive dick, he'd beat my ass sore. And then he'd let those men pinch and grope it, me sobbing the whole time. They just loved my pretty face, though.

"And my pretty, teenage body. Sometimes, they'd just pay to watch me pose nude. He'd use his hands to spread me apart in ways I never thought of before. Soon, they were putting their hands inside me, as I got a little older. Fingers ripping open holes that hadn't been explored before. I remember how Sam would sometimes squeeze my clit when I was good. It was such a jolt.

"I started doing it, too. He caught me once, in the shower, when he was about to give me another lesson. He made me do it in front of people. The first time I came, two men were holding my thighs apart, and Sam was sticking a carrot up my ass. He liked to do that. After they stretched me with fingers, he liked to grab things from around the house. The guys loved it. They started cumming on my body a lot.

"Especially my tits. Once they were big enough, they'd grip my nipples, slip their cock between them, and start thrusting real hard. I remember the cum often ending up getting in my nose. It was so awkward." Miescha rubbed the cold hand in hers affectionately with her memories.

"I finally lost my virginity to a guy at school. The guys at school benefited from my skills, too. But only the ones I thought I loved. This one was real artsy, you know, and kind of pretty in a feminine way. Had that long, wavy, coal-colored hair, and those stunning blue eyes. Found out he used them on all the girls, and I was just a statistic, Momma. Still am, I guess. But Sam found out and beat me until I was black and blue all over. When I fell down the stairs, remember? He said since I was such a whore, I could start taking the customers' dicks, too. He'd bend me over and just let one after another cum inside me. It was extra for any other position, to take any time with it, so a lot of them didn't.

"It'd run down my leg, and crust over. He'd scrub it off, real rough like, and shove a hose up... like I was some sort of fucking animal, Momma. Sometimes, when he was drinking, he was cruel like that. Wouldn't feed me anything but spunk, you know. Said that was what whore's ate, what else did I need? Or he'd offer me something but first I had to make him cum... and he'd cum on it and then force me to eat it. And then I had to thank him."

"I used to think of you as I rode his dick, wondered how he fucked you. Did he make love to you? Was he nice? Or did he really hurt you too? I wondered if he even touched you much. I wondered if he ever called you by my name like he called me by yours sometimes.

"And sometimes, he'd bring over other girls that he taught the same lessons. We'd perform together. Pose, blow, fuck... and sometimes, we had to do things together. I actually kind of liked it. They were sweet, gentle... I was so scared I was a lesbian, sometimes. And they soothed that fear, that pain, with soft hands and lips. I hated when I had to help teach a girl though. When I had to defile someone else for their entertainment. But I always did, out of fear. And those girls, they'd look at me, all scared and begging for help, and I'd look away and do as Sam did. Whisper for them to shut up, did they want us both to be hurt?" Miescha paused again and her breath rattled when she sucked it in. She needed a fucking cigarette.

"When I finally realized what could happen to me, that's when I ran away. I didn't want to get pregnant. I'm sorry, Momma. I know you always wondered why and I never told you. I felt too guilty to talk to you any more... but when you needed me, Momma, I came back, didn't I? Momma, I need you to tell me you love me. That guy I love... he couldn't ever admit it, but I like to think he did, too. But I need to hear it from someone. And you love me, don't you Momma? Are you mad 'cause of Sam?"

Miescha started sobbing when her mother only drooled in response -- did she ever even fucking blink? -- and waited nearly an hour for any sign of life. She didn't get one. And it was just another person in her life that couldn't say those three magic words.

As Simon wondered how time sped up on him when he arrived at work, it seemed as if time was in a constant freeze that morning. His head was just not into training the overzealous former intern now apparently attached to his hip who was replacing him. When it was time for lunch, he wasn't hungry and he didn't hear a word from all the people who stopped by to say their congratulations to him.

Right at one o'clock, Simon entered the conference room, which for rest of the day was turned into a makeshift party area. Red and blue streamers adorned the ceiling and there was a Congrats Mylar balloon tied to the chair that was positioned in front of a white iced sheet cake. He grabbed a glass of champagne but once again, his head just wasn't there.

"Hey boss!" Janine interrupted Simon's depressed state of mind. "Why so glum?"

Simon went to answer but slightly shook his head instead.

"Did she say no?"

A state of confusion quickly swept through Simon. "And to whom are you referring?"

"That girl you've been seeing for nearly a year now," Janine laughed.

"I didn't ask. Wait, how did you..."

"I'm your secretary, remember? I wouldn't be good at my job if I didn't know you were seeing someone," Janine playfully punched Simon's arm. "And if I wasn't good at my job, I would have to resort to what Olivia and some of the other secretaries do to keep it. No, thanks."

Simon gave a lighthearted chuckle, "I'll miss you Janine. Thanks for not being like Olivia."

"Yeah, by being promoted you just lost the best secretary you'll ever have," Janine stated with a hint of sarcasm but was completely serious.

"And believe me, I know it." Simon tilted his glass in a salute.

"So tell me, what are you doing here?"

Simon was shocked by another one of Janine's statements. "What do you mean?"

Janine slapped the back of his head, "Hello, the girl you love? Remember her? You should be wherever she is right now and doing everything you can to convince her the west coast is the perfect place for two people to have a life together."

"Holy shit, you're right!" The room went silent at Simon's exclamation.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get your ass in gear." Janine smacked Simon hard on his backside.

On impact, Simon sprinted out of the room like a horse stampeding out of the gate. He was half way down the hall when he realized he still had his champagne glass in hand, the liquid spilling out with every step he took. Passing the water fountain, he tossed the glass on it without breaking stride. It broke and he didn't care. He was on a mission to get to room 214 at the Aphid Motel. He tested the laws of engineering as he raced through traffic in his Acura. He would have most certainly qualified for the Grand Prix as the car came to a screeching halt in the motel's parking lot. The smell of burning rubber filled his nostrils as he got out and charged toward the love of his life's room.

"Miescha!" Simon pounded on the door. "Miescha, open up!"

Miescha's gasp was gurgled -- what was Simon doing back? Hadn't they said goodbye? Wasn't that enough? Or did he need another fucking going away present? Her client's grip on her throat tightened, and while her eyes pleaded, her fingernails scratched. "You fucking bitch," he snarled, "Who the fuck is that?" She shook her head, tears ruining her make up, and choked out half an answer, "Dun...no..."

"Man, this ain't your business. You got the wrong fucking door, so you just fucking head on," the man growled towards the door, and turned back to her, "You fucking scream again -- you shriek, you cry, you make another God damn noise -- and I'll fucking kill you, bitch. And no one'll miss that shitty cunt, so don't press your luck." Miescha's nod was frantic; she felt faint.

"Open up, it's the police!" Simon barked the order, trying to reenact every cop show he'd seen.

"There ain't nothin' here for you guys, man. Just me and my old lady fuckin'. Is that illegal now?" But slowly, he dragged Miescha to the door, her painted toes skimming the cheap carpet. 'What are you doing Simon! What the fuck are you thinking! Just fucking go! You don't need to see this. Don't need to see me like this.' The door was wrenched open, and the man's hand held Miescha's hip tightly, fingers bruising the soft curve of flesh. She shivered pitifully as the cool air hit her nude body, mauled breasts sensitive to the tightening of her nipples, but she didn't dare move to cover herself, fearful of the thick muscles behind herself. 'Momma,' she thought, 'she needs the money, and you'll do whatever it takes. She needs you and you need this job, so don't be a picky little skank.'

"Go away. Ain't nothin' to see here," Miescha whispered, her voice cracking with the struggle of talking with a bruised throat. Her eyes were vacant, a faraway stare that couldn't meet his gaze, or take in the champagne-stained shirt.

"Man, you ain't the fuckin' pigs. Get the fuck outta here. You ain't no God damn hero, either." At this, the man straightened, his nude body pressed close to Miescha's curvy behind. The eyes were hard, but skittery, like an addict too cracked out to know reality. "Got me, bro? Or do I need to make you get me?" His hands twitched and fisted, like he was eager to prove his point.

Simon completely zoned out the gruff loser and focused on Miescha. She was a shell of herself. Nothing like he was used to seeing. He crouched slightly just to see a glimpse of her eyes. And there it was. He saw the woman he loved trapped by her own mind so she could put up with...

"Go," Miescha begged and started to cry again, "Just stay out of it!"

"Shut the fuck up, bitch. I got this," he snarled again, digging his fingers into her ribs until she thought he'd break them, but he ignored the whimpers until he was sure the point was made.

Simon looked at the pompous dick in front of him, still having not heard a word he said. 'So this is the asshole that beats my girl!' Rage consumed Simon and in an instant, the grotesque man was laying on the floor. Simon began unleashing his hate, kicking him while screaming, "How dare you treat my girl like that," over and over again.

Dazed, the client ran away, forgoing his clothes for safety. All Miescha could focus on was 'all that, and I didn't even get my money. What will Momma do?' She didn't even notice her legs collapse beneath her, pale shins hitting the hard metal on the door way. And when her nose dribbled blood, she didn't think to wipe it away. 'Pretty bitches, they get the money. I'm too old, too old.'

After several deep breaths, Simon stared at his hands. The only fight he had ever been in happened in the first grade, and there was no question that he lost that one. Since then, he avoided those altercations like the plague. Did that just happen? It was the sight of Miescha in pain that brought this out.

'Oh my God, Miescha!' Simon glanced down and saw his battered soul mate. He swiftly scooped her up in his arms and lovingly placed her in the depreciated tub of her motel room. Adjusting the temperature to lukewarm, he placed the stopper in the drain to allow the tub to fill. He grabbed a washcloth from the bathroom counter and began to delicately wipe at Miescha's angelic face.

The warm water and his gentle hands pulled Miescha out of whatever had taken her away. She wouldn't look at him, her eyes on her bruised knees. "Why are you doing this?" Her voice was small and quiet.

"I need you, Miescha," Simon admitted with a warm grin and slight nod. "Because I love you."

"I'm just a used up fuck toy, Simon. I'm nothing special. I can't play your perfect little wife at high-cost social events, with the formal little dresses and fake fucking smiles. I'm a high school drop out that still struggles to spell simple words like definitely," and here Miescha laughed, a maddening scoff, "And fuck if I know math. I won't be pretty forever, won't be able to manipulate your cock with some hot body forever. It won't work."

Simon moved the washcloth to Miescha's pained ribs. "You are most definitely not a toy. Toys don't bruise like this. And who said anything about playing my wife? I want you to be my wife, Miescha. Right by my side. All those other excuses you babbled are just that, excuses." He didn't have a ring, but he didn't care. All he knew was that he wanted Miescha.

Miescha finally met his eyes, her eyes a frightening panicked look, and she trembled like a leaf. "Why, Simon? What could you possibly want me for?"

"Eternity," Simon smiled sweetly. "I want you for eternity, Miescha. You are kindhearted, gentle, and thoughtful. Being beautiful is just an added bonus."

"My momma. She's in a home. I have to pay for her, or they'll throw her out. She's sick, Simon. Real sick." It was a halfhearted response, and Miescha's eyes closed with exhaustion as she spoke. "I have a lot of baggage, sweetheart. You don't want that."

"See what I mean about thoughtful?" Simon snickered, "Anybody else would have saw me as a way out and you're here trying to protect me." Simon waved his finger in the air. "That means you care for me, too. I love you, Miescha. Fell for you that very first day. Let me take care of your mother. Let me take care of you. Come with me to San Francisco and be my wife."

Opening her eyes again, Miescha struggled to look at him levelly and managed a shaky smile. "You're sweet. Silly and maybe naïve, but sweet. Take me to bed so I can finish off this dream, love." Her arms found their way around his neck, her wet body pressing against him, and her lips and warm breath tickled his ear, "Show me. If you love me, show me, and I'll be your wife." She nuzzled his neck, wet face pressed close to his skin, and breathed in his masculine scent.

Simon picked Miescha up in his arms again, carrying her through the threshold of the bathroom. He deftly placed her on the bed and removed his clothes, all the while not taking his eyes off the exquisite creature displayed before him. Her body smooth like silk, her eyes tender and soft, her hair splayed around her head like a halo, and a smile that could melt a polar ice cap. Her pose was playful as she looked up at him, one knee drawn up, offering the most teasing of views, and her arms stretched out above her head in lazy satisfaction, comfort. He knelt at the foot of the bed, receiving a curious look from Miescha as his head dipped out of sight. Before she could ask, his hands wrapped around first her left foot and then the right, massaging, caressing her feet.

As Simon's hands roamed north, his body slithered from his position on the floor and in between Miescha's legs. His touches were soft and sensual as he added light kisses to her inner thighs. Slowly moving up, his grazing came right up to Miescha's sacred tunnel and then bypassed it.

Miescha let out a moan of disappointment at the unexpected refusal, which caused Simon to smirk as he continued on his course. He arrived at her ribs and the bruises that were beginning to form. He continued his light seduction of kisses over what would be the last stains of Miescha's former life. Each peck acted to remove the evil inflicted upon her body, sucking the venom out and freeing her tormented soul. With precision, each blemish was touched before continuing on his journey.

Simon finally reached Miescha's breasts, two luscious mounds of flesh. He used his fingertips to graze over one as his persistent lips landed affectionately on the other. Both were synchronized in uncoordinated assaults of their targets. By constantly switching which breast had which of his body parts attached ensured civil unrest from Miescha's pores and elicited whimpers of desire from deep within her very core. Reaching the summit of his trek, Simon found a pair of extremely hard points at full arousal to cause further pleasure for his soon to be wife. A flicking of his tongue was all it took and Miescha shivered in ecstasy, her pleasure filled squeals slightly muffled by her pillow.

Simon gave Miescha a momentary pause to collect her breath and then began toying with each nipple, gently rolling each: one between his tongue and teeth and the other between his index finger and thumb. Moving upward on the wonderland known as Miescha's body, he arrived at her neck. Each nibble of skin caused a clutching of the sheets by his love, his passion. Her eyes clenched shut at the sheer thoroughness of Simon's seduction. He knew his destination.

A perfectly placed peck right under her left earlobe caused Miescha's eyes to fly open. She grabbed Simon and kissed him with a combination of love and lust, her need too great to wait for him to carry out his mission. Their tongues entwined and the union was electric. But Simon planned for this as well. He skillfully weaved his tongue inside the allowed portal and spun a web of touches that intensified desire. Each stroke brushing against all things erogenous, causing Miescha to squirm even as he repositioned himself above her. Simon entered slowly, now feeling Miescha's lips anchoring to his body at two points.

Miescha let out a muffled gasp at the insertion. She wrapped her legs tightly around Simon's waist, not wanting to risk even an accidental separation. Her arms also went around to his back, allowing the now full body contact to satisfy the yearning in her heart to feel as one with her man.

Simon thrust slowly at first, and Miescha met him harmoniously. He withdrew his manhood until only just the head remained and then glided back inside her chamber, its home. The pace quickened and in between long, licentious kisses came grunts and moans from the coupling. Sweat trickled down from their pores from the exertion as their bodies tested their blissful sexual limitations. Simon was grappling at the sheet, as he was unrelenting in his attack, and white replaced the color of his knuckles. Miescha's nails unconsciously dug into Simon, seemingly begging to hang on to anything possible as each plunge was more forceful than the last.

Miescha was the first to cry out, her secretions painting her walls and the piston-like shaft creating her euphoria. It was her most impressive orgasm, ever. It kept going. With every piercing thrust Simon made, it magnified in strength. Her wail filled the room and soon, Simon filled her with an equally impressive load being delivered straight to her womb. Blast after blast shot off deep into her abyss. After a few small strokes, Simon collapsed by Miescha's side, wrapping his arms securely around her lithe body. His legs entangled with hers and his foot began lightly sliding against her calf.