by LB Shaw
After climbing under the covers beside her, he reached over and gently caressed her breasts. Her nipples hardened at his touch, and she could feel the wetness from the tip of his cock brushing against her thigh. He leaned over and took her erect nipple in his mouth, gently sucking it, tracing his tongue over it, and lapping at it hungrily.
After moving his hand to her wetness, she let out a soft cry. Gently parting her lips, he let a finger slide inside her, but just for a moment, long enough to get it wet. He quickly moved to her clit and teased it with the tip of his finger.
She was so close to coming, she could hardly take it. She knew she wanted to be sucking him when she came, so she pushed him over on his back and turned around to straddle him. Letting his mouth have first shot at her swollen lips, she lowered her head to his groin, taking his hardness slowly into her mouth. Pressing her lips over the head and moving slowly down until she consumed almost all of him, she could feel him getting harder in her mouth. His shaft was pulsating, and she heard him let out a soft groan as his tongue danced across her clit. The musky scent of his manhood danced with the taste of his pre-come and it drove her wild with desire. The buildup was almost more than she could take.
She rotated her hips quickly, grinding herself into his face as she sucked him harder and faster. He slid a finger inside of her right as she teetered on the edge of ecstasy. Letting a large glob of spit drip down on his cock so she could use her hand to stroke him, she sat up a bit and cried out.
“Oh… don’t stop!”
She was working his shaft up and down, cranking and turning her hand as she moved. Right as she started to come, he released his load, crying out his intense pleasure. He quickly let his tongue find her clit again and teased it, running his tongue lightly over it, back and forth until she released her grip.
Her orgasm rippled through every cell in her body, making her feel more connected to the fantasy of a man than she had ever felt to any real man in her life. It occurred to her that she couldn’t recall ever being so attracted to anyone. She wasn’t sure what it was about Rob that made her feel so turned on, but she chalked it up to basic chemistry. Her masturbation session lasted no more than a couple minutes, but the memory lived on in her mind much longer.
She scurried to the bathroom to brush her teeth, pausing at the mirror where she took in her own reflection. She knew that if nothing else, she looked damn good. With a tall, slender figure and dark, glossy, shoulder-length hair, she was the envy of every woman. And any man would be lucky to have her in bed. She took great pride in her appearance, exercised occasionally and made sure to get plenty of sleep, despite her busy life.
Ana splashed some water on her face, slipped into her pajamas, and crawled into her bed. The sheets felt cold against her skin as she drifted quickly to sleep.
Five
The next morning, Ana didn’t wake up until after 10:00. Amazed that she could sleep that late, she peeled herself out of bed, threw on her robe, and made her way to the kitchen for some much needed caffeine. While waiting for the coffee to brew, she checked her phone and was surprised to see that she had two messages: one from Beth and one from Rob. She checked Rob’s message first:
Thanks again for a great evening!
Nice, polite, and yet still mysterious, Ana thought. She texted him back right away:
No problem… I had fun! Hope to do it again soon!
Next was Beth’s message:
Hey slut, how’d it go? Is the drought over? Haha! Seriously though, u get any?
Beth was so predictable. Ana replied:
Still droughty over here. Really sexy, but not sure what he thinks of me. You know, the strong, silent type…
Ana put her phone down, made a cup of coffee, and got out some eggs and spinach to make an omelet. A nice, big breakfast and a day of movies was just what she needed. She was supposed to have a test Thursday, but no way was she spending her only day off studying.
She thought about Rob and how mysterious he was. Was he mysterious or was he distant? It was hard to tell at this point. There was definitely something about him that intrigued her. She had had a number of relationships with different guys, but only two of them had been serious, so her experience was pretty limited. Most of the guys she had dated were close to her age until she met a guy who was in his mid-thirties. They dated for several months, and boy, she quickly grew to appreciate the distinct difference in maturity between a thirty-five-year-old and a twenty-year-old. He worked for a trucking supply company, and things ended when his boss moved him across the country to take over a new office they had opened up in North Carolina. The long distance was more than either of them wanted to deal with.
After breakfast, she walked over to her desk. Looking just as messy as usual, it was cluttered with stacks of old homework, art supplies, and mail she had yet to go through. She figured it could use some organization. Hell, the whole apartment could use a good hose-down for that matter. Quickly sorting through the pile, separating the trash from the bills, she stumbled across something that had arrived from UCLA earlier in the week. Expecting it to be more junk, she opened it up. As she scanned the letter, she felt the blood draining from her face.
No. It can’t be… what the hell?
It was a letter from the financial aid office explaining that her scholarship funds had run out—something about the rise in tuition and depleting capital, et cetera. If this was true, oh man was she screwed. She had no one who could help her out. What made it even worse was today was Sunday. No one would be at the financial aid office to address this until tomorrow.
“Dammit!” she shouted, throwing the letter back down to its original spot as if that would make the situation go away. She couldn’t bear to look at it another second. If she loses this scholarship, it will mean the end of her education. Well, temporarily at least. Not to mention it was a huge source of supplemental income for all of her living expenses. She’d have to get a second job or at least a better paying one.
Okay, Ana, just breathe. Don’t freak out yet.
As she stood there gathering her wits, her phone vibrated. Another text from Rob had landed in her inbox:
How’s next weekend look for you? I have a charity dinner in San Diego.
If she had gotten that text two minutes sooner, she would have been dancing with joy, but now? Her will to live had just been sucked from her soul. She thought about it for a few moments; thought about how nice it would be to just travel around with a rich, handsome man by her side and not have a care in the world. But unfortunately, she lived in reality, a harsh reality where she’s had to fight nail, tooth, and claw for everything. She suddenly felt sick—sick of fighting, sick of trying so hard, sick of busting her ass for every small victory. She was just so frustrated she wanted to give up. Ana picked up the phone and texted Rob back:
Sorry. Something’s suddenly come up. I may be tied up for a while.
She felt bad, for Rob and for herself. She was filled with a sense of self-loathing. What’s the point anyway? He could find any number of beautiful women who would die to go out with him. Her phone vibrated again right away, and they texted back and forth a couple of times:
After typing the message, she let her finger hover over the send button. The thought of actually sending it pushed a smile across her face. In the five seconds that she stood there, her mind went wild with fantasies of him saying ‘Yep! Should I make the check out to you, or would you prefer that I pay the school directly?’
Oh, you’re such a fucktard, Ana. You don’t have the sack.
Just as she was about to change the message to something along the lines of ‘no but thanks anyway’, her finger brushed the touchscreen, sending the message orbiting out to Tex
tland, USA; destination, Robville.
“Ohhh… fuck….” she whispered. Oh boy. What would he think now? Should she send an ‘I’m just kidding’ text? Or should she just wait and see his response? She could always text back quickly, explaining that she accidentally hit the send button without meaning to. But then he would wonder what would possess her to type such a question in the first place.
Ana wondered how much money Rob did have. His company obviously did well as they owned a limousine, probably more than one, so he must make a pretty decent salary. She knew that Rich made somewhere around six figures, and Rob was in a higher management position. But she didn’t know enough about what he did to even speculate on his income. Crap, what should she do? She would give him a reasonable length of time to respond and go from there.
Moments later, her phone vibrated:
LMAO… You’re cute. And funny.
Whew! He didn’t take her seriously. She replied back:
Uh oh. She got a triple question mark. Did that mean he was put off? Or was he simply trying to emphasize his confusion? Maybe he was trying to be cute, too. Surely he knew it was all in good fun. Surely she was overthinking it, and she had bigger things to contend with right now. As far as this charity event with Rob next weekend was concerned, leaving her weekend plans open like this was much better. After all, if she could get everything worked out, she may be able to take a little time off from the bookstore and have some fun. If not, she was going to have to pull some extra shifts, maybe even look for a new job.
Ana decided to try and put her worries aside. There was no sense getting worked up over nothing yet. Maybe there were some other scholarships she could look into. Getting a private loan was out of the question as she had already been denied due to not having any credit and no parents who could back her up or even co-sign the loan. No matter what, it was going to be a long wait until Monday.
Six
After finishing up breakfast at his favorite diner, Rob got in his car and pulled out his phone, opening up his contact list. He still had a little time to kill before he was expected at the office, so when he found her name, he decided to send her a text:
Got your message last night. You working today?
While waiting for her to respond, he dialed his dad’s number. His mother hadn’t been feeling well, and he wanted to check in on her. Something wasn’t right. He could just feel it. But it wasn’t like his parents to keep secrets from him. Usually it was the other way around. They would ask how he was doing, and he would tell them he was fine, no he wasn’t stressed, yes he is staying busy, all the usual one-liners that most people perfect after years of being suffocated by overly concerned parents. Anyway, if something was bad wrong with his mom, pops would probably spill, but they were getting older, and there was no denying that people handle the process of aging and approaching death in different ways.
Mr. and Mrs. Goings were no June and Ward Cleaver, but they were always very loving and supportive parents, to Rob at least. As a child, he engaged in the usual boy activities: little league, soccer, summer camps, and fishing. His dad would take him to practice while his mom stayed home to cook traditional southern meals like chicken and stew, cornbread and biscuits, and green beans and corn on the cob. Mrs. Goings grew up in South Carolina before her father had gotten a job in Arizona when she was seventeen, and she would spend all day in the kitchen just like her mother had. She knew of no other way to live. Not one person in the Goings house ever went to bed hungry, whether a guest or a resident. Okay, so maybe they were a little like the Cleavers, but they certainly had their fair share of problems, too.
As a little girl, Rob’s sister—who was twelve years his junior—was usually off in her room listening to music and playing with dolls, until she got older and began sneaking out of her window to meet boys and drink beer with her friends. This caused a lot of friction between their parents. His dad wanted to send her to a disciplinary boot camp for girls, but Mrs. Goings thought it too extreme.
“She just needs her father to spend more time with her. Why don’t you take her to the movies or skating, something!” his mom would say.
“She doesn’t give a rat’s patootie about spending time with me. What she needs is a swift kick in the butt!” Mr. Goings would answer. By the time they were done arguing about it, which consisted of two or three sternly spoken sentences, his sister would be in her bedroom with the headphones on, either cleaning up or working on homework. It was as though she got off on the power she had in getting her parents to fight over her. Due to the dynamics of the relationships, Rob always knew his parents favored him over his sister. Parents weren’t supposed to have favorites, but apparently they didn’t get the memo. They never pushed her to go to college the way they did him. They didn’t even act surprised when she came home and announced at the ripe age of eighteen that she was moving in with her boyfriend, Matt. The young couple married two months later in a private ceremony by the local County Clerk.
The honeymoon proved to be short lived, however. Within six months of the wedding, Rob got a call from his sister in the middle of the night. Matt had beaten her up pretty badly before taking off, leaving her all alone. After almost twenty-four hours of waiting at home in fear, she broke down and called her brother. The pain had become unbearable. When Rob went to pick her up, her face was so swollen that he rushed her straight to the hospital. She had two broken ribs, multiple contusions and abrasions, and a bruised kidney. But the worst part was, prior to this incident, she was four months pregnant. She lost the baby. Something inside of her broke, and Rob sat with her for hours as she lay in the hospital bed crying. After that, she was never quite the same.
She swore Rob to secrecy as she was ashamed and feared their parents would go into their usual rant of ‘I told you so! Why don’t you ever listen to us?’ She just didn’t want to deal with it. Rob went into his usual protective mode and had been taking care of her off and on ever since.
When he didn’t get an answer from his dad, he tossed his phone aside seconds before it began buzzing. Alyssa was responding to his text.
I’ll be here til 2! I got fucked with my schedule today. U stopping by?
He immediately regretted texting her and considered not replying but figured he might as well go and see her now. If he waited until another day, he’d probably have to fight the evening crowd on top of the loud music. And going to her apartment wasn’t really an option as she was hardly ever there. When she was, she was usually partying with her friends anyway. Rob exhaled loudly and texted her back:
I’ll be there in five.
During the day, the flashing neon lights weren’t as bright, but most people could put two and two together and know that the picture of a pussycat below the Girls! Girls! Girls! sign meant that they could come in and be entertained twenty four, seven. At night, those bright lights attracted all kinds of interesting people, sucking them into the dark recesses of the strip joint where Alyssa worked. As he walked into the club, the thick wad of money in his pants pocket pushed against his upper thigh.
Every time he came to this place it appeared unchanged—same dimly lit room, same beer stench, same tables. The only thing that changed were the hordes of men and women who filtered in and out on a daily basis, and even they changed in some way from the time they arrived.
The girl dancing on stage had short, red hair and unusually small breasts—more like tiny bumps with nipples—that made her look freakishly masculine. She was lean and muscular, and Rob suspected that her boobs might be bigger if she didn’t work out so much. As she grasped the pole in front of her, she stared at the floor as if someone was watching from below. The straps of a bright purple thong hugged her hips as she slowly swirled them round and round. Two men sat in front of her, hypnotized by her gyrating ass, grins p
lanted firmly on their faces. When Rob pulled his eyes away from the dancer, he was met with a familiar stare.
“Hey Roberto! Haven’t seen you in a while, you must be busy these days.” The cute, blonde bartender was the only one there who didn’t act like a fool every time he came in. On an impulse, he had asked her out shortly after his last relationship ended. But she turned him down, explaining that she was involved with someone.
“Yeah, work and then more work. You know how it is,” he replied.
“Oh my God!” Rob heard Alyssa’s familiar voice. “I’m so glad you stopped in! Are you not working today?” Her arms flew around Rob’s neck, squeezing him tightly.
“Of course I’m working… and… can you put on a shirt or something?”
Blondie tossed a bikini top from behind the bar, and Alyssa threw it over her head and fastened it in place. “Sorry, just got done doing a lap dance. Hey, you want to come to the back?” she asked.
“Sure.”
“If my boss sees you giving me money,” Alyssa whispered, “I’ll catch some heat. He’s a fucking douchebag sometimes.”
“No problem.”
They slipped inside a dark hall that led to several rooms as Rob pulled the cash out of his pocket.
“Look Liss, you know I love you and I’ll always be here for you, but you really need to watch your finances. I can’t keep giving you money like this all the time.”
“I know, I know. I’ll pay you back, every penny. Like I said—”
“You don’t have to pay me back, Liss. That’s not the point. Why don’t you look at one of the community colleges around here? My offer still stands. I’ll pay for your education if you promise to finish. You’re smart, you could get that nursing degree you used to talk about—”
