Here in the city everyone goes around in little bubbles of their own, cell phones pressed to their ears, closer to people who are miles away than they are to the ones who crowd against them in the elevators. Talia is like that too, and though she lives not far from the center of town, she's always somewhere else: through her phone, through her music, through her big TV.
The doors of her minivan close with a cushioned thump and completely shut out the noise of the streets. The minivan has a very good stereo and quiet ventilation and tinted windows, and the ride is smooth and soft and clean, even through the worst neighborhoods. She bought this car with the money from her new job, and even though it's a family car and she's a family of one, she bought it so she can haul all the stuff she plans to buy with the money this job pays her. In this world of dwindling resources and diminished expectations, with jobs leaving the country like suds down the drain, Talia has got her nails into the rock of personal success and is holding on with selfish tenacity. She worked her ass off in school and spent enough time in a shit entry-level job for a couple years until this one came along, and now that she's got a jealous grip on what she can get, everyone else can be damned. She has no use for them.
She has a use for me though. She found my stories on a web site, and though I'm a lot older than she is, she started writing me. She liked what I wrote. She liked the fact that I'm a kind of passionate slob and that I'm a poet and can give her things in words that she can't get any other way: one of the few things she can't buy these days. We'll stand naked in the glass wall of her new high-rise condo and look out at the city beneath the full moon, and I'll spread her pussy apart and stroke her and give her poetry about why she's like the night. That's something she knows she can't get from anyone else. We can stand there with her leaning back against me, her wrists tied behind her back, my hand full of her juice, and I can tell her what it's like when the moon fucks her from behind or how it feels when the sun comes in her face, and that makes her shudder. When she orgasms she reaches back and tries to bite my naked shoulder, hating me for making her feel so much. She likes it when I tie her up too, and slowly whip her open legs and tell her poetry about what a whore she is until she throws her head back and comes, panting the way she does, the old wooden chair creaking as she pulls on the ropes in her spasms of release.
Talia and her friends put on sexuality like other people put on shoes, looking for something that fits and looks good on them and doesn't pinch too much. If there are no men around, Talia will do women, and she's done groups before too. She's offered to do a three-way with me and a girl friend of hers, a girl she'd gone to college with and now works with, but I'm not really that interested. I'm not that much of a sexual team player and I don't think this friend is into poetry and passion much, so I doubt she'd have much interest in me, but Talia thinks otherwise.
"Blaine really wants to do it," she says when I meet her for lunch the park beneath the weak spring sun. "She told me again. I talked to her this morning."
Talia's a very pretty girl, with slick, dark brown hair that is actually auburn when seen in the sun. She wears it cut to chin length straight around, showing off her lovely neck. She's got a down-turned mouth that makes her look stuck-up or privately angry, and I love it when I have her tied up and see that proud, pouty look on her face. It makes me want to hurt her, and often that's just what she wants too. She likes pain when we make love. It seems to be one of the few things in the world that can really get to her whether she wants it to or not. Most everything else she can tune out at will.
"You know what this is going to be like if we do it with Blaine?" I ask her. "It's going to be 'Blaine, why don't you lie over here, and Talia you get up on your knees over there, and I'll squeeze between you here and rub my dick on her ass, and you do this and I'll do that' and then it'll be like half-time and change sides. And two people will come and the third will be left out."
Talia's pouty little mouth doesn't change but her eyes smile.
"You're so hopeless," she says. "Most any guy would jump to have the two of us in bed together."
"Maybe I think more of you than that."
She looks at me to see if I was teasing. "Yeah, right."
I wasn't teasing. I really did care for her. It drove me crazy that she refused to see that.
"What do you get out of it anyhow?" I ask her. "You already slept with her once in college. You told me she didn't do much for you."
She stirs her yogurt around and licks the back of the plastic spoon. "Oh, I liked it all right. She's got gorgeous tits, and she's real hot when she comes. Screams and yells and everything. You'd like that. You like all that hysterical stuff."
"I like it when it comes from you." When Talia comes, she starts panting really fast in this high whimper. Her face gets red and her hands and her legs shake out of control.
I look at her. "You know what I think?" I say. "I think you just want to show me off. I'm the one thing you've got that Blaine doesn't have, and you want to rub me in her face."
"So? Is that so bad?" She squints against the weak sun as the wind blows her now-auburn hair across her forehead.
"It's a status thing, isn't it? Everything you do is a status thing."
She makes her pouty mouth. She's such a beautiful young woman that I could just crush her lower lip between my teeth. She loves me in her way, but she doesn't really know what that way was. She's just not equipped to think about things like that, things that don't quite make sense.
"You're not a status thing," she says. That was probably as close as I'd ever get.
"Do I get to tie her up? Do I get to use the whip while you go down on each other?"
She looks at me again, squinting to see if I'm serious. "I don't know. I think so. I'll have to ask her."
I don't see Talia that often, maybe once a wek or every two weeks, and then it might be for a weekend or a couple of days during the week, or maybe just a night. She calls me when she needs to talk or she needs what I have to give her: words, understanding, passion, and pain. She doesn't like to go out very much because of the difference in our ages, but sometimes she does like it, exactly because of that. She'll dress herself up to look even younger than she is, with short, little-girl skirts or a tank top and jeans and she'll hang all over me in public, pretending I'm her sugar daddy. She loves to fantasize that I'm corrupting her. When we go back to her place I have to spank her and stick my fingers in her pussy and her ass and make her suck me off with the kind of brutality she loves, holding her hair and lifting my ass off the sofa to bruise her lips and make her gag with my thick cock. She likes to see the come erupt from my prick and feel it shoot against her face. She still has a splash of freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose and they really show when she gets aroused, and I love to see my ejaculate dripping down her childlike face, the pulse in her throat as we come down from our orgasms and turn back into ourselves.
As we sit in the car one night I tell her that the shadows of the streetlight through the trees are writing things on her body, things she won't be able to read for years to come, and when she does read them they'll tell her about things that are already over and done with. She likes that, but she doesn't quite understand it, so I grab her hair and pull her head back against the seat and I run my lips over her exposed throat, scraping her with my teeth. As soon as I take control of her, her nipples get hard as raisins and I twist them in my fingers before I put my hand down between her legs and push a finger into her shaved pussy. Aside from her wetness and the eager stiffness of her nipples it's hard to tell whether she's excited or not, but when my finger penetrates her she squeezes her eyes shut and grunts in masochistic pleasure.
"Go ahead," she moans, "finger fuck my cunt right here in the parking lot. Make me come on your hand. God, you're so dirty!"
That's what she says but she comes fast, panting and whining and lifting her hips entirely off the car seat to ram my hand inside her. She grabs my hand and digs her nails into my wrist and starts breathing really fast. I cover her mouth with my own and she bites my tongue just as I feel her tight little pussy clamp down on my fingers as she spills it.
"You little whore," I say. "Someday you'll be able to read that shadow writing and then maybe you'll understand. Until then you don't have a fucking clue."
"Me and Blaine made out today at work," Talia tells me on the phone one night.
"Oh yeah? What did you do?"
"Not too much. We went into the stationary closet at lunch time when everybody's gone?" Her voice took on that teenage lilt where every statement's a question. "We just fooled around. We kissed and stuff. I think she's gay."
"You're not?"
I could hear her role her eyes. "Of course not. I'm bi if anything. But I mean really gay. I think she likes girls more than guys. She really wanted me to get her off, but she was wearing a skirt, and I didn't want to have to push it all up over her hips and everything, you know? I didn't want to get caught."
"The hell you didn't," I said.
"I didn't. Really. Someone could walk in."
Talia and Blaine both worked in a big building selling some new sort of phone system to small businesses. Her company had some new technology that everyone wanted, and all she had to do was sit in her office and take calls from buyers and rake in huge commissions. Things were going so well that there was a general party atmosphere at her office, with people taking long lunches and leaving early and still making tons of money.
"So you just kissed?" I asked her.
"We kissed, and she started humping my leg. I played with her titties. It was really hot. She really wants to do it with us. I'm going to invite her over."
"If she's so gay, what does she want with me?"
"Well she's not entirely gay," she said. Then she changed her tone and started to wheedle. "Please, Graden, please. I really want to do this."
"Why?" I asked her. "Just tell me why. I don't understand this, Talia."
"Oh, I don't know," she moaned in exasperation. "It's just that you're the only guy I know who's mature about sex. You're the only one who can tell me about this, about why I want to do this and about what it means. Please?"
"What about the plenty of guys who'd be happy to get the two of you in bed? Why not get one of them?" I knew the answer, but I wanted to hear her say it.
"You know: all the guys my age are so young. They don't know anything about anything. All they want to do is fuck you and get their rocks off. You're the only one who talks about it. You know: talks about what it means and everything. That's why I love you, Graden."
Hearing her say my name in the same paragraph as the word "love" was like hearing a chicken whistle. She could probably hear me smile on her end of the phone.
Blaine is wearing some ugly pajama pants with a tank top and a sweatshirt over that. She has her brown hair in a ponytail and wears a Cleveland Browns hat, but for all her casual, any-old-thing look, she's wearing lip gloss and her eye makeup is freshly done.
Blaine's a lot more sociable and extroverted than Talia, but most of that is just her saleswoman persona. She smiles a lot and still has a trace of her Texas accent, and when she likes something you've said she scrunches her nose up at you. Talia told me that once and now it haunts me: every time she does it it kind of bothers me.
It's strange, because both Talia and I know why we're here, and Blaine of course knows as well, but we can't just take our clothes off and start cluster-fucking, so Blaine has a glass of red wine and asks me about the cards while Talia finishes what she's doing in the kitchen. I tell Blaine to shuffle the cards and pick one, and the one she picks is the Nine of Cups: Satiety, an excess of pleasure.
Talia came out of the kitchen and stood behind Blaine's chair. It's a big, modern dining room set with a smoked glass table, brand new, and the chairs have high backs. Talia leaned over and put her hands under Blaine's breasts and lifted them up.
"See, Gray," she said. "Didn't I tell you she had gorgeous tits?"
Blaine gave me a naughty little leer, her eyes twinkling. "Ooh, Talia!" she said, "You don't waste any time, do you girl?" She scrunched her nose up at me and stuck her tongue out suggestively.
I was surprised at Talia's boldness. She pulled Blaine's chair out from the table, and came around and sat on the arm of the chair, half in Blaine's lap. She certainly wasn't that easy and bold with me. She rarely started anything. She was more into teasing me into doing something to her, usually something rough where I'd pull her down or press her back against a wall, but now she sat on the arm of the chair and bent over and kissed Blaine open-mouthed. I could see their tongues working against each other from where I sat at the other side of the table, slowly shuffling the cards. It was very quiet except for Blaine's little amused moans and laughs as they kissed. She knew she was being naughty and she loved it. I wondered briefly if Blaine and I were supposed to fight for Talia, if that's what this was about.
But no, it didn't look like that at all. Talia broke the kiss and then looked at me. Her fingers were playing with Blaine's ear.
"What do you say, Gray?" she asked. "Are we on?"
"Yeah, Gray," Blaine added, "Are we on?"
The vertical blinds were wide open, and you could se the buildings across the way, see all the lights of the city all the way to the horizon.
"You want to leave the blinds open?" I asked them.
"Sure," Talia said. She looked at Blaine and added, "Gray says I took this apartment because of all the windows. He says I'd like to live in a city of glass where everyone would see me. He thinks I want everyone to see me when I fuck."
"Oooh," Blaine said, raising her eyebrows, "I like that. A city of glass where everyone knows everything about everyone else."
"But nobody knows what it means," Talia said. "That's what Graden says. He says we don't know what anything means. Isn't that right, Gray?"
Blaine scrunched up her nose at me. Talia reached down and pulled up Blaine's sweatshirt and tank top in one move and lifted them up over her tits. Blaine wasn't wearing a bra, and she did have beautiful breasts just like Talia had said: fat little melons instead of Talia's scoops of ice cream. Talia lowered her head and watched me out of the corner of her eye as she licked one of Blaine's nipples and the girl hissed in pleasure.
Obviously they were putting this show on for me, and it was having an effect. Blaine put her hands up and grabbed the back of the chair behind her head, lifting her breasts up for Talia, who really started making a big show of licking and sucking them, moaning and slurping and rolling her head. Blaine kept one eye on Talia's treatment of her tits and the other one on me to see how I was taking this.
"You like to watch, Graden?" Blaine asked. "Mmmm," she said, closing her eyes with a little shudder, "Her mouth is so good. Is that all you're going to do is watch?"
Talia snaked her tongue out and start tracing circles around Blaine's big nipples, and I realized I was supposed to be shocked. Poor girls: beautiful, desirable, at the peak of their sexual ripeness, but they lived in a world of expediency, a world of diminishing expectations, with no right and wrong, nothing to rebel against. There was nothing they could do to shock the boys their own age, so they had to come to me, someone older, someone who remembered when there were good girls and bad girls.
I stood up and both of them waited to see what I would do. I went around to the other side of the table where they were, and I pulled out another chair.
"Come here, Talia," I said, and she stopped what she was doing with Blaine and walked over.
She was still wearing her after-work grubbies: sweat pants and a tee shirt. She stood in front of me like a little girl while I tugged her pants down over her hips and made her step out of them. I rolled her panties down her smooth thighs and she put one hand on my shoulder for balance as she stepped out of them. Being naked in front of Blaine apparently didn't bother her at all.
"Arms up," I said, and Talia raised her arms over her head like a baby getting ready for a bath. I pulled her tee-shirt off and tossed it aside. She wore no bra: she was completely naked.
I sat down in the chair and pulled her over to me, made her stand there while I sucked her nipples into my mouth, first one then the other. I held her with one hand squeezing one of her buttocks, and with the other I pushed her thighs apart so I could work my finger against her. She stood there passively, not resisting. She wasn't as wet as she'd wanted me to think, but now, under the shame of being handled like this in front of Blaine, she began to lubricate.
It was my turn now to show off for Blaine. I wanted her to see how I handled Talia, how passive she was with me. Blaine watched as I sucked Talia's tits. I turned Talia around and gave her a sharp little smack on the ass. I saw Blaine's eyes widen with interest. Her shirt was still up and her nipples were starting to harden.
Both girls were passive, but that didn't surprise me, Talia was usually passive like this when I was with her, as if she were an observer to what I was doing to her. Sometimes she would even exclaim with surprise when I pushed her into some new and subservient position, murmuring "Oh Fuck!" or "Oh my God!" as if she couldn't believe I would do this to her, but she never objected. She only got hotter.
I stood up and pulled Talia over. "Sit in the chair," I said to her. "Put your legs over the arms. Blaine, get your clothes off. I'll be right back."
I went into Talia's bedroom where she kept the rope and her toys in her nightstand. I grabbed a handful of stuff along with the riding crop I used on her, and when I got back into the dining room, Blaine was standing naked next to the chair she'd been sitting in, her nipples pointing up to the corners of the ceiling. Blaine had a little strip of hair on her pussy but Talia was shaved clean. There was a twinkle of moisture visible between Blaine's thighs. With both their pussies exposed the two girls looked even younger than they were; almost juvenile. They stood there uncertainly, as if waiting to be punished.
I kicked my shoes off and came over to the table, pulled over another chair and sat down. I beckoned to Blaine and she came over, her hands clasped demurely over her naked crotch.
"You know what we do, me and Talia?" I asked her. "She tell you about it? The ropes and the whips? Is that what you want me to do with you too?"
"I don't know," she said. "I've never done that kind of stuff. I want to try though. Yeah, I guess so."
I reached out and grabbed her by the tit and pulled her over. She gasped and followed. What else could she do? Talia sat in the chair with her thighs over the legs, her pussy gaping at us. She was kind of zoned out but her chest was rising and falling as she watched me man-handle Blaine's boob. She was waiting to see what I would do with her friend.
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