The Laundry Room

It had been nearly two weeks since session two... twelve days to be precise. I felt like an addict of sorts. He said he'd see me soon but I hadn't heard from him. I knew I would eventually, but when? I was trying so hard to be cool about the situation. I had to fight the urge to call him. I had to play it cool...but this guy... he had me so open. Finally, the day I thought I'd surely give in, he sent a text letting me know he hadn't forgotten about me and we'd see each other soon.

How soon...damn?!

Okay, cool. I had to calm down and chill the f--- out. But it was hard. I went lingere shopping at Frederick's of Hollywood, to the spa to step up my Brazilian game, to the adult toy store to stock up on bedside assessories. I was trippin. Or some might say, just getting prepared.

A couple of my male co-workers commented that something seemed different about me. I swear men can smell sex on a woman or maybe just confidence. My skin was glowing they said. "Oh, I got a facial," I told them, laughing hysterically inside because they didn't know I meant the nasty kind.

Monday through Friday I was focused on the job during the day. But as soon as the sun set, I was a feign again. I could think of nothing else but him. I'm lying, I thought about him all day long. Maybe I need to diversify my portfolio I thought and discussed it with my girlfriends. "Yeah, girl. You better mix that shit up," they insisted.

I tried but the other dudes really couldn't compare. Still I kept a few in the pocket, so I didn't lose perspective. You know, calling incessantly and wondering all the time when I would hear from him. I filled my calendar with dates but most of the guys were truly lame, nice to look at, but lame. There was one or two in the bunch that might serve well as a needed distraction in a pinch. It has hard to spread my energy around so much. Even if I wasn't sleeping with the rest, dating required energy and time. I only wanted to give that kind of energy and time to him.

But I knew who I was dealing with. This man I was so open on, was no monogomous type. Falling in love with him would be good business for my therapist...bad for me. But don't ask the obvious questions. You should already know the obvious answer.

Five days after his text promising to see me soon, I couldn't wait any longer. I had to speed up the process.

"Your version of soon needs work and my naughty streak is not done. Wassup??"

The response I wanted soon came: "2morrow or Saturday?"

I had another date planned for Saturday. But if Friday went well. I'd cancel.

No, no, don't cancel your distraction date. Girl, stay focused! You'll mess around and fall in love. Don't get caught up!

We agreed Friday was set and I was once again like a kid waiting for Christmas. I had hardly been sleeping at night. I've always been a night owl but this was ridiculous. My body literally would not let me sleep. The evening before our next episode, I was wide awake on the computer looking at God knows what, shoes I think. I'm checking my Gmail. Hmmmm....he's awake too and online. 12:27am. He sends a Gchat message:

him: i wish u was here now so i could do with u as i/you please

me: don't play. i might jump in my car and head over there.

him: i wanna put my ____ in ur _____ right now. but we can wait til 2mrw if we must.

me: why must you tempt me?

him: i don't know but i'm serious. u sure you don't mind the slapping and such? cause i keep having visions of man handling u while u handle my dick. almost ready for that ___ to ____ shit u spoke of.

me: oh yes, i don't wanna rush that. yes, let's save that for 2mrw.

him: too much nastiness to repeat

me: sounds good.

him: aight then i'm out. c u 2mrw.

me: can't wait.

him: me neither. wish i could get a sample but okay.

me: i'm tempted to come give it to u.

him: please

me: please? did u say please??? give me 30-40 minutes. i'll call u when i'm outside.

him: okay cool, bring cigarettes.

You see...I couldn't help myself. All that talk about man handling me. It got to me.

So I got ready. Fixed a stiff drink. Took a bath. Lotioned myself nicely. Put on a strapless black shirt dress, black thong, knee high boots, a black overcoat and headed out the door.

When I arrived, he met me at the door and led me to the elevator. I noticed he pushed the down button not up to his 4th floor apartment.

"Down?", I asked.

"Mmm hmm," he affirmed.

He led me to the laundry room and cautioned me the super lived just across the hall. It was late he explained so we'd be okay as long as we didn't make too much noise.

He closed the door. I was happy to see there was a lock on the door but he said it didn't work. My nasty ass didn't even care.

"What you got under there?" he asked motioning to my dress with cigarette in hand.

"Not much," I said.

"Show me," he said standing back as I took a seat on one of the yellow chairs lined up against the wall.

I raised my shirt dress a little and slid my thong to the side to show off my brazilian.

"Pretty, isn't it?" I asked.

He nodded and watched me play with myself with my french-manicured fingertips.

He pulled me all over the laundry room. From the folding table to the washing machine back to the yellow chair. I think I even crawled at one point. I particularly loved being on my knees going down on him. When it got really good to him he'd lean over and smack my ass. He'd bend over slightly pulling himself away from me, knowing I would follow him with my seriously insatiable tongue. He liked when I spit all over him, letting my salivia drip down to his testicles. I'd watch my spit drizzle down and lick it up before it dripped off to the floor. This was playtime for me and I loved it... needed it.

I went home an hour later (a quickie for us since we both had work the next day), feeling high once again.

While getting dressed for work the next day, I noticed three black and blue marks on the inside of my forearm. I put my fingers over the marks and realized they were from his fingers, caused by all the man handling the night before.

Already I was looking forward to the next time.