An Innocent Obsession

Chapter One-2

Whoever he is, he knows me. If only he’d declare himself, then he’d be real. I could touch him, feel him, f**k him. But, except for green folded papers, he’s silent and unseen.

***

Henry’s busy when I arrive at his tobacco shop, so I wait, smelling the perfume of unsmoked tobacco oozing into my pores. There’s something sexy about the way he rolls the cut leaves with his fingers. His hands must smell like his shop, though I’ve never had the chance to find out. He’s the one man I would like to f**k but haven’t.

I seduce him every time I see him, but he remains my most intriguing enigma. I want to understand what’s inside his reserve. I wish he were the author of my pale green notes; but I wouldn’t be lucky enough to have anyone so stable, so infinite and calm. My fellow’s bound to be a mad man.

“I got another message,” I say as soon as Henry turns my way. Seeing his eyes is all the comfort I need—even something fatherly glimmers there. Something whole and sexy resides inside that grey, accentuated by his dark lashes and the heavy, expressive eyebrows. I often wonder what it’s like to feel his square jaw in my hands, to lean in and kiss his smile. Henry’s lean, strong and forty-five years old—which Ziggy says is far too old for me. I ask her why she says that, and she can’t explain herself. Ziggy doesn’t care about the age of her lovers—she once dated a fellow who was almost sixty. But this one, she says, is indecipherable. I don’t agree. No man is that obscure. I think it’s just his way to be remote.

Besides, I’m okay with things I can’t figure out—except these blasted notes. And when it comes to men, I do like riddles so I can find my way inside them.

“And what’s your message say?” he asks.

“Says, take my time, I’m not getting what I need.”

He nods as though this sounds logical, which it does.

“Yeah, but what’s he doing with me?” I explain, showing my exasperation.

“Couldn’t say,” he shakes his head.

“Humph,” I shrug in frustration. “You know it could be one of the guys at work playing a practical joke.”

“Could be,” he agrees easily.

I’m off to the skyscrapers with two boxes of handsomely wrapped cigars, which will make some man’s day. I do wonder about men who puff on these phallic symbols. Perhaps they’d really like to be sucking a guy’s d**k.

I think I’m meeting my next boyfriend as I make this delivery. He’s a new one—and one of those perfectly beautiful men who melt the eyes and turn p*****s liquid. He has mine smoldering in seconds. Tony talks to women with a warm snicker on his face, as though he’s perpetually seducing them. Even me—the humble delivery girl from the cigar shop. When he takes the boxes from my hands, his fingers graze mine and my thighs cramp, need swelling in my belly. I came this morning with Alan, but all that’s forgotten now, as I fall into Tony’s dark Italian handsomeness and swim around. For just two minutes I am the only woman in his life—I feel loved and circumscribed by him, and there’s no reason for him to give me anything but a pleasant thank you for the delivery.

“What’s your name?” he asks.

“Clarise.”

“And you work this neighborhood on foot?”

“No bicycle.”

He nods. “I’m a cyclist.”

“Oh?” I stupidly blush. “I’m afraid the bike’s just part of the job.”

“Ah. Too bad.”

Too bad, why? I wonder. But then, this is a worthless fantasy. Every woman dreams of men like Tony and I’ll bet there are a hundred running after this guy. Maybe I’ll think about him the next time I screw Joseph or Alan.

“But then, you’re a runner,” he says, noting Alan’s tee shirt.

“Runner?” I finally stare down at the faded imprint across my chest and blush more. “Not that either,” I say. “Just borrowing from a friend.”

“We’ll, I’m sure I’ll see you again.”

“Smoke a lot?”

“No. Not at all. These are gifts.”

Of course.

I leave with my thighs sticky from the juice that’s trickled from my snatch—no panties; this could get dangerous before the day’s out. I worry as I hop back on my bike and pedal off, that my shorts will look pretty stupid by the time I get back to the message center.

This evening, I’m drawn to the nightclub in the neighborhood. I exchanged Alan’s shorts and tee shirt for a short black lycra dress, then shaved my legs so smooth that the tan skin seems to glow by the evening light. And taking my hair from the clasp I’ve worn all day, I shake it out so it flies about my face, bringing out the savage beast inside me. As I do, a delicious wave of lust saturates my veins. A little makeup for my eyes—which I hardly ever wear—and pearls dangling from my ears, I figure that’s enough.

Rico’s nightclub is swarming with bodies moving rhythmically to the beat of his music blaring through the sound system. He kisses me when I enter.

“Haven’t seen you in ages, Clarise.” I kiss him back and smile while he pats my butt. “Maybe after midnight we can take a break?”

“Sure,” I say as I move on. If there’s no one else, Rico will do.

Gliding through a swarm of arms, and thighs, and dancing asses, I get bumped, then start dancing with a blond-haired fellow who’s more sweet than sexy. After one dance, I give him a kiss on the cheek and move on, looking for someone—as though I know who that someone is. I haven’t a clue. I’m just waiting out tonight’s finale, engaging in some wishful thinking.

I don’t remember when I stop dancing. I don’t remember much at all inside all this noise. It leaves me dizzy after several hours, so I move to the back of the club and find Rico at his office door, looking at the impossible crowd as dollar signs register in his brown eyes.

“Place is crazy!” I exclaim.

“Yeah,” he smirks happily. He stares at my breasts, which seem to rise from the top of my dress with the cleavage line jiggling as I walk. “I have a friend who would enjoy you, Clarise. That’s if you’re interested.”

“Not you?” I am surprised.

“Maybe,” he says with the look of a voyeur in his eyes. “I might just hang around and see what happens.”

He has me curious; and moving behind him, I peer inside his office, seeing my cigar guy, Tony, sitting on the sofa.

“Clarise,” he says with the same crotch-warming smile that breathed such life in me this afternoon.

“You?” I’m stunned.

“Me, yes.”

“You knew I’d be here?”

He flashes a grin at Rico, which makes me wonder what these two have schemed. I’m in the dark—though not the kind of dark to be afraid of. It’s just that it doesn’t make sense.

“I knew what Rico told me,” he says obliquely.

“And how did he know I’d be here?”

Tony shrugs innocently.

Rico’s hand is at my back, launching me past the doorway with firm fingers, and I stumble forward.

The stud on the couch with the great, grand smile has me drowning in him, p***y clenching in expectation, body full and ready, the green go-light signaling me onward. Sure of myself, I drop to my knees—yes, I dropped to my knees in Alan’s shower only hours ago—and I’m here again serving a man slavishly engaged.

That man, Tony, sits with such ease, hands on thighs, looking at me crawl to him as though he sees this every day.

“Clarise, you are a slut,” he remarks with amazement.

“You just guessed I was?” I say tongue-in-cheek. I swagger his way on all fours until I’m at his feet, staring at the polished Italian loafers and the soft brown socks above.

He doesn’t answer; but instead, clutches at my hair with fingers winding through the curls. It’s a gesture repeated by every man I’m with. My hair is the one mesmerizing feature I can rely on. But Tony, with the matinee idol physique, stares at what he sees genuinely fascinated by these crazy, untamed ringlets.

“Come here,” he whispers. He wants me closer still, so I inch up the sofa like a skulking cat and straddle his lap. I can’t believe I’m this far inside his private spaces, lap dancing with my p***y pressed against his groin. Feeling his erection begin to pulse, I sense my p***y emitting cream. I’ll soil his pants, but he doesn’t seem to care.

He has his hands around me, and I lean back so I can better admire his face. I’d take it home and mount it on the wall, and tell all my friends I really f****d this god-like guy, Grecian, Roman, doesn’t matter which kind of god. He’ll do. He will never lose the power to stun me.

By now, my skirt’s so high that the pink thong underneath winks at him when he peers down watching me wiggle on his c**k. Grinning, he runs his hand along the slip of cotton, and I start to gasp as his index finger gently lifts the edge and burrows underneath—tenderly. Little heat-seeking missile, that finger. When he pulls it out, it will be drenched with me, and I’ll lick it dry with my tongue while the look of him infects my body with a deeper lust.

I’m gone, in a pre-orgasmic tide of pleasure. One shock of tremors replaces the one before. They come in great breakers and move downward through me, settling where my wet crotch moves lazily to the beat of music behind this night.

“Want to c*m, Clarise?” he asks while caressing the syllables of my name, making it sound much sexier than it is.

“Hummm, yes,” I’m thinking dreamily.

“Then, you’ll do me as I want you.”

“That would be my pleasure.”

“In your ass, Clarise,” he says with his voice turning more seriously resonant. “Because that’s the only way I’ll have you. In your ass, while Rico’s in your cunt.” He strokes my face, pushing off a wavy lock of hair with the tenderness of a long-term lover caressing away a minor worry.

My cunt squeezes its reply and I whisper simply, “Whatever you want.”

That decided, his hands take charge as though they own me, sliding like silk along my skin, pressing my breasts with force. My head drops lazily back as I breathe him into me.

While my empty cunt grinds on his pants, Tony pushes the shoulders of my black dress down to bare my t**s; then he dives forward with nose and tongue deep into the perspiring no man’s land between the mounds. This could be all I need. If I rocked long enough inside this blissful feeling, I might c*m without that c**k. But I do want him; I want them both. With that my inspiration, I hold back.

Moving to his feet with me in tow, Tony has Rico slip down on his couch. Already naked, his familiar male member waves at me erectly, as though it’s saying hello. I’m tempted to smile thinking this is some joke. But I know better as soon as Tony shoves me over my nightclub friend.

Settling into the warmth of him, his aroma is recognizable, and his c**k is almost comforting. Been some time—years I think since I had two like this in one night. Frankly, I can’t remember when it happened last. The recollection of a New Year’s party two years ago floats back into my conscious brain. Then the memory leaves again and I concentrate on the deliciously Latin Rico moving slowly in my cunt.

From the corner of my eyes, I see my Adonis strip off his clothes. Suit coat, pants, socks and shirt fall around the room like new decorations.

Not many men are better looking naked than they are clothed. But this one is. His face is only a beginning. I wonder if he wouldn’t have made a bigger fortune selling this package of muscled manliness to porn producers.

But as much as I adore him, I note the admirable size of his erection and wonder if it will fit inside me. His immensity makes me shudder—where the hell is this going to fit? Still, I’m persuaded to continue as Tony makes it his foremost project to make sure I’m ready, pushing me down on Rico’s torso so I’m laying on him chest to chest. Crouching at my behind, Tony’s hand feels its way along the cleft to the rosette opening of my back door. At the moment, his target is clenched tight; but as he pleases it with his mouth, I feel that appalling instant of primal delight as the tip of his tongue invades that darkness. I remember that I washed myself before I went out tonight, glad I did, glad that my privates smell of roses and taste of cinnamon. I hope he likes the flavor, if he even bothers to notice. (I love men who think those are my natural tastes and smells). The deeper he probes the more my body spirals downward—my cunt becoming more wet, my desire more profound. Then my bottom begins to move on its own with Rico groaning to go faster, and Tony searching for even more response from me.