And the girl blushed even harder, but at least she stopped trying to hide herself.
“Moved in today,” she said ruefully, sweeping a hand towards the boxes outside. “I wanted to take a hot shower but couldn’t find any soap or shampoo so I had to call you guys for a special delivery. Guess it worked, huh? My soap and shampoo came,” she smiled.
I nodded towards the living room.
“Your package is the other room,” I drawled. “I dropped it as soon as the clothes came off, as soon as those jeans dropped off your bod. You always use jeans to cover yourself?”
And the brunette laughed then for real, throwing her head back, those curls a glorious mass down her back.
“The jeans were the only things I had,” she explained ruefully. “Honestly, everything’s super disorganized and shoved randomly into different containers, I probably have kitchen utensils mixed with books, it’s so messed up.”
“Well, you could have used the sheets on the bed to cover yourself,” I said, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Like a toga of sorts.”
And the girl colored again before smiling at me.
“I didn’t even think about that,” she admitted, staring at the pale yellow coverlet. “I guess I just grabbed the first thing at hand, and that happened to be my dirty jeans,” she said, pulling her mouth into a rueful grin. “Although these sheets are pretty dirty now too, I’ll have to find a spare set somewhere in the pile out there,” she sighed.
And I laughed a deep belly laugh then. These sheets were more than a little dirty, they were positively disgusting with our sex fluid. I’d come, she’d come, there were droplets of pussy juice and semen everywhere, not to mention the huge pool of sperm she’d been lapping not minutes before.
But there were more important things than laundry to think about now, so I tried to get to know her a bit despite the fact that we’d just fucked each other silly.
“So, where you from?” I asked casually. This was a pretty common question, no one was actually from New York and I didn’t think it’d set off any warning bells.
But this girl was different.
“Um, the Upper East Side,” she hedged, not looking at me.
Okay, that was fine. Being a rich kid from UES was no problem, you couldn’t help what you were born into. But I could tell Laurie didn’t want to talk about it, so I went in another direction instead.
“What do you do for work?” I asked again, curious about the beautiful girl. Her job obviously couldn’t pay much, this place was really small and old, although it was spic and span. But I wanted to keep things light and besides, New Yorkers always ask each other about their jobs, sometimes even sharing salary information with complete strangers.
“I work for the City,” she said softly, looking at me. “Have you heard of HRA? We administer things like SNAP and public assistance.”
Oh fuck. Ms. Holmes was a real do-gooder because HRA stands for Human Resources Administration and SNAP was the City’s name for food stamps. Laurie was definitely into helping the downtrodden.
“So how’s the job?” I asked. “You’re probably an angel at work,” I added, “So many people must appreciate you.” Because although I never talked about it, once upon a time my family had used food stamps, there’d been a few times when we didn’t have enough to eat and the extra had filled a much-needed void.
And she smiled at me then.
“I do translation work,” she explained. “There are so many people who don’t speak English but need help accessing public benefits, so I help translate signs and brochures into different languages so that we can reach all New Yorkers.”
I cocked my head at her.
“And which language do you translate into?” I asked.
She bit her lip.
“Spanish … and Mandarin Chinese,” she said.
I whistled through my teeth. Holy shit, this was one smart girl. If she’d said Spanish, I would have been duly impressed with that alone, being a one language guy myself. Shit, I barely even speak English sometimes, so Laurie was already one up on me.
But Spanish and Chinese? That was fucking impressive. The two languages are nothing alike and it only confirmed my assessment that there was a lot more to this girl than met the eye. Despite living in this humble apartment, she had to have a rich background because you can’t learn Chinese without going to some fancy immersion classes, without taking a trip to some Asian country. So I just whistled again.
“How’d you pick those languages up?” I asked. I expected the brunette to babble on and on about exotic trips abroad, how she had friends who lived in far-flung locales and went on fancy jaunts. But instead, she shook her head.
“Rosetta Stone,” she replied, referring to the tapes that any John, Dick or Harry could buy for a hundred bucks a pop. “I listened to the recordings over and over again until I was fluent.”
Now I was definitely impressed, revising my initial impression of the brunette. She’d been able to learn not one, but two languages from listening to tapes? Holy shit, that put most college students to shame. And as if reading my mind, Laurie nodded.
“Yeah, we didn’t have enough money for me to go to college, not even community college, so I went the next best route. I bought some tapes with my savings and just kept listening to them until I was fluent. I practiced here and there with my neighbors, the people who owned a bodega on the corner, and soon I was good enough so that when I applied for a job with HRA, I passed the translation test with flying colors.”
I nodded, really impressed. Shit, Laurie was the real thing. I’d come in for a quick fuck because the woman was just my type with a curvy body and horny, slutty ways, but I’d stumbled upon a gold mine by accident. The brunette was smart, resourceful, sweet, and not at all stuck-up, helping new immigrants access public resources.
And I growled again, barely able to believe my luck, but I had no time to process it just now.
“Listen, what happened was amazing and I’d love to chat with you more, but I gotta fly,” I said, checking my watch. NYC Concierge tracked us with a fucking GPS service and they could always see where we were, how long we stayed at each stop. And right now, I was already way over my limit, if someone was watching there’d be some hard questions to answer once I got back. “I gotta jet, okay? It’s been great, but it’s my ass if I don’t.”
And the girl nodded slowly, watching with wide eyes as I hauled my massive form off the bed, fumbling for my boxers, pulling on the grey jacket and baseball cap. Yep, I was just the delivery man, anonymous in nondescript clothes. But I didn’t want this to be fly-by-night, so I leaned down and kissed her, pressed my lips against her soft, plush ones, the pink pout opening slightly, inhaling the sweet scent of her breath.
And fuck, but Laurie was so delicious, so curvy and nubile on that bed, still nude, still flashing her tits and cunt that I almost ripped off my clothes and jumped back in with her, ready to stroke, to take, to devour. But I couldn’t. Fucking Homer from Human Resources was going to be on me if I didn’t get my ass moving, so I forced myself to stride into the living room and pick up my bag by the door, the canvas grimy and careworn.
The brunette followed me out, this time wrapping herself in a bedsheet, her curvy form only highlighted by the swaths of cloth.
“Thanks for delivering my package,” she said softly, those caramel eyes warm, limpid, nodding to the brown box lying on its side on the floor.
And I bent to kiss her again, breathing deeply of the essence of this woman.
“No prob,” I rumbled, my eyes alive as I took in that sweet, sweet figure. “No prob at all.”
And just like that I was gone, taking big steps down the stairwell as the door closed softly behind me. But what Laurie didn’t realize was that I had every intention of seeing her again. I’d made my delivery, sure, deposited loads of my semen onto her, spraying that curvy form with creamy, viscous white … but I hadn’t gotten into her body yet and couldn’t wait to begin.
CHAPTER EI
GHT
Laurie
I sat at my desk, my chin propped in my hands, staring at the gray acrylic fabric while seeing nothing.
“Laurie, Laurie, Earth to Laurie,” chimed my friend Tanya.
I sighed, spinning my chair around. Tanya stood in the doorway to my cube, her scrawny frame propped up against one of the cube walls.
“Tan, you gotta be careful,” I sighed again. “I know you weigh like ninety pounds, but these are cubes, not real offices. If you lean against the wall like that, it’s gonna collapse and you’re gonna be in a pile on the floor.”
Tanya snorted while twirling a piece of frizzy blonde hair. The tiny woman was one of my most beloved friends and had a funky style all her own. She mixed and matched her clothes, coming up with eclectic combinations that clashed but somehow worked. And she always, always wore a pair of statement glasses. Today’s frames were angular and purple, almost like goggles if you asked me but hey, that was Tanya.
And you couldn’t keep my friend down, especially not when she was feeling sassy.
“Good, if this thing collapses and I get injured, then I can file for workers’ comp and retire on the payments,” she snorted. But the blonde straightened, taking her weight off the gray fabric at least.
“How was yesterday?” she asked, a concerned look sweeping over her face. “Your move go okay?”
My friend was the only person at work who knew about the horrible betrayal by Gary, so she was asking with good intentions, inquiring into the fucked-up soap opera that was my life. But how to explain? That Gary had been blown out of my head, my heart, by one amazing experience with a stranger? That I’d let the delivery man come in and fuck me so hard, so thoroughly that I didn’t care about Gary anymore, my past be damned?
But that was hardly a PC answer especially with a million people buzzing away in the cubes around us. So I just smiled and said lightly, “Yeah, I survived. It sucked moving things five stories up without an elevator because I probably strained my back, but I survived.”
And Tanya just laughed then.
“Tell you what, we both file for workers’ comp and then take a vacation together. How about it, hon? Whaddya say?” she asked, crossing her eyes at me.
And I had to laugh then. We’d be such a cliché, government employees who milked the system for all it was worth, getting disability checks while sunning ourselves on a Caribbean cruise. But I knew my friend was joking so I giggled again.
“Nah, I’m okay, I’ll survive,” I said. “But listen, what does Saunders want with us today? I thought our signs were really great, I mean people don’t need that much help with restroom directions.”
I was talking about the icons we’d designed with the outline of a man and a woman on them, along with the words “washroom” in various languages. They’d be mounted in various government buildings like City Hall and the public library, but honestly, you don’t need translation for this stuff. People can already tell from the pictures which one is “Men’s” and which one is “Women’s.” But our boss was an idiot of Dilbert-like proportions and didn’t hesitate to create unnecessary work, making things up just to drive us crazy. And Tanya didn’t hesitate to mince words either, nailing it on the head.
“That fucker has lost his mind,” she whispered, rolling her eyes. “Saunders is such a fucking douche, always wanting us to stay late yet yelling at us to ‘be more productive.’”
I nodded. Because of course our manager was the proverbial government lifer who had nothing better to do than push papers around while lording it over us, his subordinates. But he was the boss, so what could we do? I sighed, resigned.
“Listen,” continued Tanya in a hushed voice. “Let’s play hooky today. Let’s leave at four and tell stupid Saunders it’s because we’re checking out those new signs up in the Bronx. That way we’ll have an excuse to leave early, and you know what? I live up in the Bronx so we’ll head there afterwards and drink wine. Wine, baby, wine, everything’s good with wine.”
And I giggled softly as Tanya boogied down in my cube, shaking her ass while doing a dance of joy. Normally I would have taken her up on the offer because checking up on our signs was part of the job, and it was only too easy to swing by my friend’s place afterwards for a sip of the good stuff. But I actually had plans tonight.
“Um, thanks Tan, but it’s a no go, I have some business to get to,” I said, biting my lip and going slightly red.
Tanya didn’t even hear me, she was still getting down, twerking against the gray cube wall, bouncing her butt against the soft fabric. I just rolled my eyes again. Seriously, my co-worker really wanted the cube to come crashing down with the way she was bumping and grinding.
“Tan,” I said louder, raising my voice. “I can’t tonight.”
This time she heard.
“Why not?” she asked, making a pouty face, her lips pulled in a frown, standing up straight. “Red, red wine not good enough? You want white?”
And I laughed while shaking my head again.
“No, I have plans already, you know, stuff that I committed to ahead of time,” I said pointedly.
The blonde pouted again, but changed her tune on the turn of a dime.
“Oh my god, you mean divorce stuff?” she whispered, her eyes suddenly wide. “Sorry, honey, didn’t realize. Sure no problem, tell Gary to fuck himself, he deserves it,” she added.
And I tried to keep my expression neutral. In fact, it wasn’t divorce stuff I had on my plate, but it was easier to let my co-worker think it was, distract her from the real story. So I just nodded soberly.
“Yeah, I have some papers to sign and all that,” I mumbled, dropping my head as if devastated. “It’s really tough.”
And Tanya was immediately repentant.
“Oh honey, I’m so sorry,” she cooed, putting an arm around me, her hand warm and reassuring. “Like I said, tell him to fuck himself. Tell Gary DeGroot that Tanya Smead says ‘fuck you.’”
And I had to laugh again.
“Okay, I will. How about the Bronx tomorrow?” I asked to appease her. “We should check out our handiwork at City College, who knows where they hung the signs this time?” And it was true, last time our stuff was posted in a utility closet where absolutely no one could see it. Literally, in a dark closet with the door shut where it’d be no good to anyone. God, sometimes I just didn’t know how the world continued to function, what City government was coming to.
And Tanya nodded.
“Absolutely hon, I’m saving that wine for you. Kay, gotta get this ass back to work before Saunders swings by and beats me. Toodle-oo!” she sang with a wave and a wink, and just like that, my co-worker disappeared into the maze of cubes, swallowed up by the labyrinth.
I sighed before swinging back around to stare at my monitor again, my head rushing with my thoughts. Because there was no divorce stuff to take care of, no papers to sign, no loose threads to tie up. That shit was done, and for the better because Gary was an afterthought now, a nobody from my past. Instead, my thoughts were consumed with Tucker, his big body, his laugh, the way his blue eyes took me in, my every curve, my every eager, hungry breath. The delivery man was curious about me, had asked me a lot of questions about myself and shamefully, I’d asked almost none about him, it’d been a one-sided conversation.
But it was easy enough to remedy. After all, I just had to place another order with NYC Concierge and my delivery man would show up like magic. My body heated up just thinking about it, my mouth going dry, my cunt beginning to moisten. Oh god, oh god. I was supposed to be working, supposed to be looking over papers, plotting strategy, doing business things, but all I could think about was touching, savoring, tasting my delivery man’s package … all over again.
CHAPTER NINE
Laurie
I flipped open my laptop at home and clicked to NYC Concierge’s page. Hmmm, what to get today? Unconsciously, I licked my lips, my body heating up a thousand degrees, my mind already whirling with anticipation of th
e fun times ahead.
Because I knew how concierge services worked. You put in an order and then a messenger gathers your purchases and makes the delivery. But NYC Concierge had gone one better and part of their white glove “elite” service was that you could request a particular messenger for your delivery. In this case, of course I was looking for Tucker.
I clicked over to the “About Us” portion of the web page and I scrolled down the list of names. My eyes lit up upon the word “TUCKER” in all caps, and when I clicked on the link, sure enough, a photo of the big man popped up, his face half-turned away, partially hidden in shadow.
But it was definitely my illicit lover. I could tell by the strong profile, the straight nose and mobile lips, the square jaw apparent even in the slightly blurry image. Oh yeah, that was my man and I clicked on his picture with relish.
Bingo! The site said that Tucker was “currently available” and all I had to do was place an order. I pursed my lips, thinking. What did I need? Well, everything come to think of it. I was still sitting in an unpacked apartment, piles of stuff heaped around me, half the boxes still taped shut. I’d dug around to find some work clothes so that I could show up for my job, but pretty much everything else was still boxed up.
So my fingers skimmed over the keys, impatiently strumming when suddenly inspiration struck. I needed laundry detergent. I hadn’t been able to locate any despite pawing through mounds of stuff and had given up finally, spending the evening on my soiled sheets. Or more accurately, the sheets that Tucker and I had covered with our love stains. The cotton was saturated with our sex smells and I’d rolled around in them naked, breathing in the scent of the big man, his woodsy, masculine musk, pretending that he was there with me still. Okay, you got me, I did more than that. I pressed my nose to his semen stain, the circle of dried cum and inhaled deeply while frigging my cunt, pretending it was Tucker’s fingers touching my plush lips. And I came all over again, my snatch creaming wetly as I shrieked, legs scissoring wildly on the bed, losing it as my pussy pulsed and spasmed, driving me to the wildest heights. Yeah, Tucker did that to me. I’d come all over again just from smelling his semen because I’m a dirty, nasty girl.
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