I want to tell you a story. No, that's not right, I HAVE to tell you a story. It's not a true story. Well maybe it is, at least in parts. I'll let you decide. But I do have to tell it.
The story is about Ed and Andrew, probably more Ed than Andrew.
But you know, that may not be true either. You tell me. It's not the story you are expecting, but I think it is a pretty good one anyway.
Ed, we'll start with her. Everyone called her Ed, but the name her parents blessed her with was Edwina.
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They sat across from one another in the wooden booth in the dark tavern. They had been there for a couple of hours now, drinking and talking, feeling their way through the situation. It was storming outside and the lights flickered off and on in the tavern.
He was tall, dark, and handsome, not traditionally so but by sheer strength of character and control.
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Mike's life was miserable, he was 18 and lived at home with his parents and his sister. He got along with his parents, but not with his sister. She was 20 years old and attended the local, State University. She walked around with that superior older sister attitude. She loved to get Mike in trouble. When his parents punished him, she loved it. She would snicker and say, "What's wrong squirt? No hot dates this week." Her sarcasm hurt, and she knew it.
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"What a week," she thought to herself as she drove down Interstate 30. Getting away was the best medicine she thought as she brushed her cheek with the back of her hand wiping away a tear. "Give us some space, that's what we need."
She had called her friend and told her she would be driving up for an overdue visit. She was not expected until tomorrow but she had to go, get away from the phone and think. She figured that one night in a Hotel room alone would be all right. So she started out on the four hour drive.
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I was 18, almost out of high school and decided that I was missing something in my life. I felt as if there was more out there than I was experiencing and I wanted to find it. So after thinking it over I enrolled in the exchange program offered through my school. After careful consideration and deciding that the best way for me to get the most out of the experience was to not choose the obvious countries of choice by most students: France, Italy, Germany, Spain; but instead to get my grand life experience in the Orient, particularly Japan.
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"You know, the scene where Clark Gable carries Vivian Leigh up the stairs."
They were at dinner, discussing everything from work to politics. Now it was movies. The conversation had just taken an interesting turn.
"I'm not sure which one you mean."
"You know," she said. "If you've seen the movie, you know. Rhett carries Scarlett up the stairs after they've quarreled. Rhett had gotten drunk earlier. He threatens her, then he carries her up the stairs. The next time you see Scarlett she's waking up, stretching, with a smile on her face."
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She was the reason he came in every morning.. He really didn't like coffee enough to pay $4.50 a cup but knew her schedule by heart. He knew from her nametag that she was Maria and had started greeting her by name as he ordered. She would smile and say good morning to him like she did to the other customers before him but it made his heart jump just the same. She was not the youngest worker in the shop but she was the only one who made his heart race. He would change lines when she wasn't looking to be sure it was her that waited on him.
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(Hi everyone! I have wanted to submit a story for years, but have never completed one that I was happy with. So, I decided to just to go for it by submitting this. I really want you to have an enjoyable time with it and feel free to give a first timer some critiques. So, I will stop my ramblings and let you get on with reading!)
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You hot, horny, cock-craving slut. I know every slutty thought that goes through your dirty mind. I know what you need like no one else ever will, and bitch, I'm gonna prove it, right now....
That's what you want, isn't it, slut? A man who will prove it. A man who won't take no for an answer. I've been watching you through your windows at night, you whore. You moan on the phone like a slut in heat, while you cram sex toys inside your creamy wet fuckholes.
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Christine knew she was in trouble as soon as she rounded the corner. She hated walking around in cities she didn't know, but hated the thought of taking a cab a lousy six blocks even more. Now she was just three blocks from the hotel, but clearly not where she wanted to be. The gang of college-age looking boys spotted her immediately in the late evening sunlight. They saw her blonde hair, hourglass figure, tight slacks and sleeveless blouse. They saw that she was alone.
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