Mezzanine...
Four...
Five...
My eyes slid back to my wife, who was also staring at the changing numbers, her small purse clutched in her hands in front of her stomach.
Six...
Seven...
“Baby…” I virtually growled, making her eyes jump from the numbers to my face and widen.
Eight...
Nine...
Her eyes fell to my hand as I reached toward the panel and pressed the button to stop the elevator.
Her mouth dropped open as her eyes shot up to meet mine. Before she could utter a word, I was on her, kissing her, sucking on the warm skin of her neck, groping her ass, pulling her dress up, ripping her panties, and spinning her around. Her purse fell to the floor, and her hands smacked against the back wall of the elevator. The soft Muzak continued to play as I dropped down in my slacks to kiss each of her ass cheeks, using my hands to open them and slide my tongue between them.
“Ohhh, shit! What-what-what if there’s a camera in heeeeere?!” she wailed.
I kept licking her ass crack as I palmed her booty cheeks because…fuck a camera.
I wasn’t finished with my feast yet.
“Baby!” she whined.
Finally satisfied that I’d tasted every inch of her ass, I stood, unbuttoned and unzipped my pants, and once my dick was free, I slowly, gently eased inside her ass, as her long, red fingernails scratched at the elevator wall and she released a low moan. I eased back, then slid more of me inside her until I knew I wouldn’t hurt her by adding a little more power to my thrusts. My body was pressed against hers, my mouth on her ear as I fucked her ass faster and faster and faster, our breathing heavy, her whimpers growing more and more desperate as I reached around and squeezed her breasts through her dress, my mouth now on her neck.
She screamed my name, an orgasm slamming into her just as quickly and easily as they always did. The mere thought of her orgasm brought mine on, making me tighten my ass and eventually drop my head onto hers, my harsh breathing pushing through her hair to her scalp.
“Got damn,” I mumbled and then pulled out of her and helped her straighten her dress back out. Once we were both put together, I pressed the button, and the car resumed its ascent. We made the ride to our floor in silence, and once we stepped out of the lift and onto the plush carpet, making our way to our suite, I placed my hand on her back again, leaning in close to her ear to say, “As soon as we get in our room, I’m going to brush my teeth, take a shower; and eat that good-ass pussy of yours.”
Her eyes were wide as she kept them focused in front of her. Once we were in the confines of our room, she sat on the bed and watched me undress. I stepped toward the bathroom then turned to look at her. “On second thought, I think I wanna eat that pussy in the shower, and baby?”
She fixed her eyes on me. She was so damn beautiful. Always had been. “Yes, Neil?”
“Happy anniversary.”
Smiling, she stood, slipped out of her dress, and replied, “Happy anniversary to you. And Neil?”
“Hmmm?”
“Can we fuck in the elevator again?”
“Hell, yeah. Put on a robe.”
track four
no
Sometimes I marveled at the fact that this was my life, that this was my house, my bed…my man.
My husband.
Sometimes, I’d close my eyes tightly for a moment and then pop them open, half-expecting to find myself in my former home, living my old life because it was hard to believe such contrast could exist in reality.
It’s not that my former life was horrible; it was just…not what I’d hoped it would be, but this? This life? This love? It was almost unimaginable in its goodness.
His big hands gripped my thighs, pulling me to the foot of the bed. Opening my eyes, I saw nothing but darkness, my nose tickled by the crisp scent of the fabric softener coating the sheets.
His mouth met my pussy, his tongue swiping at my clit and making my back bow up from the bed and a tortured whimper fly from my mouth. The sound of him slurping and sucking and moaning his pleasure made the pressure building in my core swell exponentially, and I damn near screamed, “Fuck!”
He grunted an unintelligible response as he slid a finger into my soaked pussy, finger fucking me and licking me simultaneously while his other hand squeezed my thigh. It all felt so good, too good, and the next thing I knew, tears were spilling from my eyes as the pressure rumbled to an excruciating peak and I exploded.
I couldn’t hear or see for a minute or so, but I could feel my man as he climbed up my body. I felt him kiss the tears that streamed down my cheeks, felt him ease inside of me, smelled and tasted myself on his mouth as it met mine, his tongue slipping into it as he backed out of me and sank back inside. When my hearing returned, I could hear his labored breathing, his declarations of love for me, the sound of him breaching my wetness, my own breathing, my whimpers, my helpless cries of pleasure, of ecstasy.
“Damn, baby! This pussy just gets better and better and shit!” he rumbled into my ear.
Now I could see. I could see his handsome face punctuated by deep grooves in his forehead, those eyes of his fixed on my face as he moved closer and kissed my forehead, my nose, my cheeks, my chin, and then my lips again.
I reached down to grip his firm ass, throwing my head back as he thrust deeper and deeper and deeper and—
“Gooooot daaaaaaaaamn!” he yelled, and then I felt that familiar pumping sensation inside of me.
As his heavy body collapsed onto mine, I threw my arms around him, stroked the damp skin of his wide back, and softly whispered, “Jah, are you ever going to tell me—”
His head popped up, his eyes narrowed at me before he slid back down my body to my pussy, dragged his tongue over my clit that was so sensitive I damn near hopped out of the bed, and grunted, “No,” before continuing his sweet torture.
track five
tandem
I approached the huge metal door, the entrance to the mammoth industrial building located near the river, a former factory transformed into what it was now. Once I was standing directly in front of the door, I raised my head to expose my face to the small camera that lived above it.
I kept my face, my ticket, upturned until I heard a series of clicks—the door’s locks disengaging. Then I pushed it open and stepped inside an entryway bathed in red light, distant music making my pulse race. I let the door slam shut on its own, straightened my tie, and measured my steps as I passed the tufted sofas and chairs lining the narrow space, my eyes fixed on the huge ornate doors in front of me as the music grew louder and louder.
Upon reaching the doors, I could finally make out the song—Beyoncé’s Sweet Dreams. Taking a deep breath, I pushed the doors open and was greeted by what could only be described as sensory overload. This space was drenched in purple light, the bassline of the song so acute that it made my heart stutter. And then there were the bodies.
The bodies.
A field of brown bodies filled the massive space, some clothed, others not, as they danced or kissed or touched or…fucked. So much fucking was happening around me that it probably should’ve been unsettling, but instead, a smile overtook my face as I moved deeper into the room, my eyes feasting on the attractions, interactions, and distractions. Tables, chairs, sofas, and even the carpeted floor served as stages, instruments of performance for those who desired to showcase their ecstasy. And for them, there was a ready and willing audience of people drinking libations while gluing their eyes to the display of their choice. I bypassed them, my senses caressed by the sights, sounds, and scents as I navigated my way out of that main room to a corridor of closed doors, a space for more moderate revelers. The doors were made of dark mahogany, the lighting in this narrow space a soft blue, the floor glossy, white marble. Numbers were affixed to the doors, and my anticipation grew with each number I passed. Eight doors, eight rooms, eight numbers. I stopped at number seven, hesitating before I knocked, twisted the knob, and entered.