You Forgot Something

When he saw her for the first time, he made sure he spoke to her. He could remember after the fact the number of buttons that were not latched into their holes at the top of her shirt. Today it was two. Her chest was exposed, and you could see the straps of a harness through a mesh top that covered up her tattoos. When she bounced into the door, her décolletage prickled beneath the chill in the autumn air, he was waiting in front of the clock to give his fingerprint and start the day. She paused beside him, and for once the minute between 7:59 and 8:00 wasn't long enough.

He was jealous of the laser that touched her finger and knew it was her.

He looked at his rolled up sleeves as to respect her behind when she walked quickly to the double door to work. He wondered why they never asked him to wear sleeves. His arms were quite decorated. Not in tattoos, however. Scars, from a blisteringly harsh self hating time in life blared red and raised all over his body. They were so deep that he called them 'carvings.' That time wasn't really over, and he supposed it might never be. When himself approached the two doors, he opened the seem with his head, and let the sound ring as he took that left to his department. He was a little numb to pain, but just earlier, speaking to that woman with two unbuttoned buttons, he had felt deep calm and pleasure and even goodness. When she was gone away, the sadness returned.

He was juicing lemons. His boss gave him a mild talking to about filling the juice bucket halfway up with water about a day and a half ago, so he was determined to fill the bucket up with good honest lemon secretion. He chopped the lemons in half and put their halves fruit-side down on the rounded section of the juicer and drew all of the drops out of them. Lemons, unfortunately, didn't have that much juice. He didn't have a lot to speak of for himself either. He was running on yesterday's gin and the sip of water he took that early morning to down his blood pressure medicine. He knew he needed cigarettes. And possibly more gin. Was there anything else he needed to run errands about after this?

He was making his shopping list in a quiet mental space, and then it wasn't so quiet anymore. There she was, her chest already two buttons down, coming towards him from across the back of the bar. She was holding a porcelain bowl of raw salmon.

"Can I please have a lemon, please?" she asked.

"What are you using it for?"

She wanted to squeeze the lemon juice into the bowl to cook the salmon. But she didn't know how piddly lemons were with their juice, so, out of kindness to her, he just poured some juice from the bucket. She was grateful.

"Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome my dear."

He hoped she wasn't going to eat the salmon. He hated anything from the sea. But he supposed if it made her happy it was fine. He went back to juicing.

There was a wedding going on at the hotel, and everyone was busy. Barbacking was hell, and likewise was stewarding. The two of them both had pretty rough days. He took some flowers home to feel better. They took the giant river lilies out of the arrangement, but he thought all the roses and chrysanthemums poking out of the wet foam block looked nice still. He buried his face in them, and searched for the smell, for it was difficult if not impossible to smell anything himself. Something told him to stop under the bridge and smoke a Marlboro before driving home. And so he did. He listened to the music coming up the street from Beale and watched a couple in a horse carriage clobber towards Union. He didn't even see her coming until she was causally beside him, going, "We've run into eachother a lot today. Isn't that weird?"

He could've told her a lot of things, but what he said was, "Don't think it so much as weird. In fact, it made the day better."

She was used to compliments. She thanked him though he wasn't sure why and she looked closely at his name tag in the dark. He wanted to do the same, and be about five inches or less away from her lovely breast, but did not.

"Do you go by Ted?"

"No, Teddy is fine," he said.

"Do you know my name?"

He did not.

She gestured to the pin on her lapel, but his eyes still didn't dare dart there. She read it to him. "Ariel."

So that's what her name was. He liked it.

They talked for half an hour, which was determined by her going back inside the lit building and declaring that her break was over.

"I'm going to go back in. I don't mean to be rude," she told him.

"Hey," he said, "don't worry about it," in a soft spoken voice that knew when to say things. She made what sounded like a moan disguised as a sigh. And he handed her a wedding rose from the arrangement. He waited for her reaction, trying to listen to her body as she touched the stem, plucking it from his hand.

"It's beautiful."

Later that night, he drank to these small sweet memories. The first cigarette of the night, when he was pulling out his lighter, he noticed the Zippo was gone. It was a gift. It had to be a gift. He looked everywhere but there was not a Zippo to be found. Even though the moon was full and beautiful, the night was a bust. But again, he drank to memories. He just thought of the sweet girl he met earlier, and how her face looked beneath the starry, moonlit sky. Downtown a block away, he heard music as they ran into each other a last time until their schedules align. He knew he loved her. She was a beautiful young woman.

He was of thirty two. He guessed accurately that he was about five years older than her. She had a smooth face with big cheeks. Her eyes were hungry, and looked around constantly, as if searching for the next interesting thing.

He couldn't masturbate to fantasies. He needed the real thing. But it was a silent want. He softly dismissed the idea from his mind and rather quickly went to sleep.

The next day was his weekend. He didn't hardly anything all day, besides go to the the gas station for a Bic. He might've watched tv, might've eaten, might've done laundry, but mostly nothing happened until around 3 o'clock that afternoon. He got a text.

"Hey is this Teddy? Why weren't you at work today?"

First he thought was it really Tuesday. Then when that was clear, he thought this was his boss. But it couldn't be. He had her as a contact. It could be his co worker, Curtis, that he hated, who was the other barback his shift.

"It's my weekend," he told the anonymous person, which seemed like the obvious answer.

"But don't you still wanna talk to me?" was the reply.

Now he questioned if this really was Curtis. Curtis wouldn't speak to him this way...

"Can I ask who this is?"

And he got another reply. That pretty name that sounded like a breath of fresh air.

"It's Ariel :)"

"Ah! It's you!"

"I'm contacting you because you left your Zippo lighter outside the hotel."

"I've been looking for that!"

"Well I have it ;) don't worry! It looked expensive so I thought I'd return it. Can I stop by after work? I get off at 5:30."

That's pretty late, he thought, but his thinking was in the right place. He hated the sun, and daylight for that matter, and when the night came he drifted into a better mood as the stars appeared above his house. When she would arrive it could still be an early dusk, assuming she was on time. And 5:30 wasn't too far away. He was excited.

He left the door unlocked for her. He wanted her just to come right inside, like she lived here with him. It was just something fun to briefly imagine.

He heard the car pull into the driveway. He was glad she got here safe. She knocked, but quickly reconciled, and opened the door.

"Sorry, reflex," she said immediately. "Hey!" she smiled through with a jovial smile, her lips open. Her voice was cordial and friendly.

Obviously she could tell he would be peaceful with her, and she came right in and asked to sit down. She sat on the love seat.

"What you're doing is really kind. I hope you know that."

"I do," she said, and he laughed.

They spoke for a while. She had gotten his number from Curtis. He learned she had been a steward there for a few months post the beginning of the pandemic, but she had been on AM shift. She said she loved that gift of a random night shift, because it was a lot less chaotic than the morning.

"I know just what you mean," he said, puffing on a smoke.

"O no! My phones almost dead!"

"There's a wireless charger in the table," he informed her.

"Really?" she said excitedly.

When she sat back down, in a chipper voice, she said, "I want a drag."

"Do you want some of my cigarette?"

"Sure."

Then she eased herself on the couch beside him, slowly, as if she was paying attention and really being careful.

He handed her the cigarette, and the way she drew patterns in the air with her smoke told him she was used to exhaling fumes out of her lungs.

"Do you like bud?"

"Bud?" in the form of a question, but wasn't confused. "O! Weed!" she started to say.

"Yeah."

"I like it," she said, taking another quick drag and apologizing before handing it back to him.

"It's okay," he said optimistically.

He pulled a bowl out of the drawer under the table. He also grabbed his tray. The bowl had one hit taken out of it, so he wanted to sprinkle some green on top to make it, well, good enough for her. She deserved nice things, and he was positive of this. He loved Ariel. He wanted to be with her.

He daydreamed about this, and entertained her with harmless white lies about interesting things she didn't believe, but seemed amused by...

But when they retired the bowl, she sighed again, and might've sounded a bit unhappy, but it was a low sound, and he was hard of hearing.

"I guess I better leave."

"Okay..." he drew the word out sadly.

She started to apologize again, but when she began to speak he stopped her a little sternly, "No, it's alright. I understand." Looking up, seeing her, he thanked her for returning his Zippo.

Between puffs, she had confidently slipped it into his hand, inflating her sense of goodwill.

"Mhm. You have a good night now." And she was gone.

There was a knock on his door about 30 minutes later. He had forgotten to lock it, and he didn't know who it could be. But he should have known: it was her, here to collect her phone.

When he opened the door she seemed a little too excited to be back here, supposing that she drove some ways before she realized she had forgotten it.

"Wow," she said coming in. "We are great at losing things."

"That we are."

She took her phone off the wireless charger and put it snug in her pocket.

"Do you mind if we smoke another bowl?" she asked.

"Okay," he said, easily.

She sat down right next to him again, and he passed her the pipe.

"I have a question," she spoke up and there was the turning point.

"Ask away m'dear," he responded.

"I don't know," she began, "when I saw you and you talked to me, you were really nice and cute... I was wondering if you liked me."

"I do like you, m'dear. You're very pretty and nice yourself."

She smiled. "Would you go out and date me maybe? There's sort of a catch..." she told him.

"What's this catch?"

He noticed her chest was really red. It worried him so he asked quickly: "Are you okay?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your skin is red around here," he said, choosing his words carefully and gesturing below his throat.

"I'm blushing," she said, looking down.

"Why?" he asked gently.

"I'm a little nervous."

"Don't be nervous, m'dear. What was it you wanted to tell me?"

"Well, I had this boyfriend for two years, and we had sex and it was quite bad, but for some reason I stayed with him anyway. I didn't know what good sex was until a month ago. But anyway, he fucked me all of like... 20 times in two whole years. I decided I wasn't going to pursue anyone unless they had a better sex drive than my ex, willing to do more, and could make me cum."

"So what you're saying is we have to have sex if I want to date you?" What kind of dream was this?

"I just want to be sure," she held up her hands, as if innocent.

"I want to have sex with you, but I'm pretty sure I don't have any condoms."

"Oh..."

"Should we go buy some?"

She paused, cautiously, "No..." she finally answered.

"Okay," he consented, moving his shoulders.

"I'm wearing a slip underneath this jacket," she informed him.

"Show me," he told her.

She pulled her clothes off her body until there was but an Ariel in a strappy night gown. It was black, and the stretchy fabric hugged her body, which was good. She sort of stripped in front of him, which made him pretty hard. He looked at her, sort of sighing at her beauty in anticipation, and tried to wrap his head around what was happening. He hadn't had sex in over 2 years, not that it mattered really, but he just wasn't so much mentally prepared. But he was horny, no doubt, especially when she pulled off her warm fall clothes. Her skin glowed, like it was literally shiny. She had used some sparkle body spray prior to dressing earlier that day. Her tattoos shone like glossed paintings.

She stood above him, really close, and he needed to kiss her. He slowly put his hands in her hair and made an even slower pull towards his face. He kissed her deeply. She enjoyed his full lips, which were plumper than her own. It was something she admired.

"Get on top of me," he told her, and she did.

They kissed more, and together they humped hips until he was hard. She moaned through her throat as she felt his dick between her legs. So she ground her pelvis against it, and the more they kissed the more she started to long and yearn.

"This is very nice," she whispered.

He kissed her again. "This is great," he said.

"Do you have a bedroom?"

"No," he said honestly. "I only have a couch."

"I've been there," she admitted.

When he moved his mouth against hers, she started to moan wantonly. He used his tongue. He flicked it in her mouth and she began having ideas. She wanted him to lick her pussy. They had been making out a while. But he was holding her close. This is what he wanted right now. He felt loved.

She started kissing his neck with his head in her hands, moving her fingers through his hair.

"Kiss my ear," he told her.

So she did. She moaned gently into it as well, and he sighed in pleasure. He wanted oral now, too. Her tongue and teeth on his lobe crafted up desires. But he knew the alphabet, and she would cum first.

A lot... he thought.

"Can I touch your breasts and ass?" he wondered aloud.

"Yeah," she told him, her breath sucking in quickly as his hands molded around the shape of her breast. She had big titties. Through her wireless bra he could feel their natural malleability and the light poke of her nipples through what remained of her clothes. Her pussy was against his lap, but he couldn't tell if she had panties on. As he wrapped his arms around her and his hands settled on her ass, he hiked her slip up and took big handfuls, squishing her skin under his palms and fingers. She was wearing panties.

"Take these off," he told her.

She sat up on the couch and raised her legs, briefly standing on the couch. Her skirt covered her cunt, but he watched in eagerness as she pulled her underwear down her thighs. He didn't care what color they were, but they had little cactuses on them. He thought of the desert briefly, where he was from, but the thought of Ariel's heat washed the nostalgia away. He wondered about her pussy, if it was shaved, or it had hair, and he didn't care much between them, so much the curiosity.

"Can I touch you under your clothes?" he hoped.

"Of course," she told him.

So they made out some more. He first touched her breast under her slip. He wanted his face there, so when their kiss pulled apart, he moved the slip so the chest part was under her tits, and didn't even really look before mashing his face into them. She had tattoos around her nipples, but he didn't see these until he retracted some. He wasn't indifferent to tattoos, but he could figure she liked them, so he admired them as he should.

"I love your tits in my mouth," he murmured, and she moaned, deeper than she had been doing the whole entire time.

He liked her sounds. They let him know she was doing something right. He hoped for the best, that this guidance would continue. He wanted to know what she liked, loved, wanted.

As soon as he thought that, it was like his wish came true. She held his head nice and snug against her and told him to use his tongue. So he did. She moaned in a different octave, and sounded like she was enjoying it more. He grew even harder and excited. If she were to grab his cock, she would feel the blood rush around beneath the skin.

"Have you ever made a woman cum with your fingers?" she asked him.

He paused. He didn't like to kiss and tell, but this wasn't exactly it. He rose from her breast and told her, simply, "Yes, I have made a woman cum from my fingers."

"Can you do that to me?"

He answered that he could, and sucked a little more on her titties, transitioning into her on her back, exposing her pussy.

And he thought, Oh fuck...

She had her legs spread for him, and wanting it. Her cunt was sheared and smooth, and everything else about it was in the details, but in short it was pretty and edible looking. Teddy thought it would be a treat to go down on her. If she'd like it...

He followed the sounds she was making when he put his fingers in her pussy. He was familiar with the 'come-hither' motion. Finding the spot was his intention. When she cried out, it was unlike the sounds he heard before. It was guttural and deep. She was being pleased from the inside, so he didn't stop. She said, "yes, yes," several times. While she didn't let him know she was cumming, he believed she did because she got very loud, then respired.

She got up immediately and kissed him passionately on the mouth, as if thankful and happy or relieved.

"Did you cum?" he wanted to know.

She nodded with her lips glued to his.

"Can I give you oral sex?" was her next question.

He thought, once again, Oh fuck yes...

"Okay," he consented.

She started unbuttoning his pants, but he helped her. They tugged them down his legs and tossed them. They sailed to the floor.

He lied there exposed, and he could tell even in the red light that she was sizing up his dick at least a little.

"Mmm," she hummed.

He closed his eyes as she went down on him. She began to choke almost immediately.

"That's too aggressive," he told her.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She was secretly relieved. A lot of men she had been with enjoyed it when she gagged on their dicks. But he was different. Maybe he could enjoy the head that she liked to give, naturally.

"It's okay," he reassured her.

"Can I try again? Please?"

She had him at "please." A woman begging a little for his cock was so seductive to him.

"Yea," he agreed.

So she went slow. She didn't fill her mouth and retch like before. This was the complete opposite. She gave the head of his dick a substantial amount of attention at first before descending down his shaft and taking more inches. She liked to switch it up at a steady pace. She sucked him fast, licked him slow, lapped her tongue up and down the back part of his dick, where it was sensitive. She lowered her head and flicked her tongue slowly over the skin covering his balls.

Fuuuck, he thought and said.

When she arose, they kissed again at his desire, pulling her towards him and opening his mouth.

"Do you want to fuck me?" she whispered to him.

Between the sounds their lips made when they kissed, he told her, determinedly, confidently, "I want you to tell me how you want your pussy eaten first."

She let out a sharp sigh. Then she slipped him a confession. "No one has given me oral in over two years."