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Maybe it was just me, but every time I managed to steal a look on the couch, it didn’t seem as white anymore. Of course, he was still white; immaculate and clean, but in my mind it seemed to me that he had changed a shade, going from a real white to a off-white. He had been soiled. I couldn’t look at him the same way anymore. I hadn’t even managed to sit on it since, choosing instead the old faded floral chair. It was so moved into the apartment, but it had belonged to my grandmother, so I had insisted on keeping it.

Stephen had not done so the next night, for what he had claimed would be the rest of his late payment. Fearing that he would lift me up or do it as a kind of power play, I had avoided it like the plague out of anger. Some days I had even taken a long way and used the back stairs to get in and out of the building, so there was no chance of having to face him in the elevator or in the hallway where his own apartment was.

I thought it was better that way; that I didn’t really love him anyway, so what did it matter that he didn’t keep a promise? It could be an, and it was just more evidence of it. I was obviously of little importance to him, and he had just kept watching me squirm and have money problems, for his own sick satisfaction. Deep down, I couldn’t deny that he stung.

I was on the balcony, potted my plants when I heard the door slam, followed by Erika shouting my name. “I’m here,” I shouted back, as I leaned over my Sweet William factory.

“Hey,” she said. She then asked with a little smile, “Did you resume smoking?”

I sighed. “No, I didn’t, not really anyway.” I took one last trail of the stupid thing and stubbed it. “It’s just, I’m so stressed right now, E.”

Offering no help at all, Erika sat down on one of my outdoor sun loungers and leafed through the magazine she had bought with her.

“Is Dean working again today?” I asked, trying to make the conversation that I watered my plants and gave them some attention.

Erika rips his tongue out. “Yes, it is. He does even more over time, something about a new opening in another department that he wants to go for, so he’s fishing for a promotion.

“Well, that’s great news. Good for Dean, I answered.

Again, Erika made a noise, which makes her annoyance to her husband clear. “Being married to someone who is great news is hard work, Laney. He’s married to his job. And me? What about the opening of my department? Doesn’t our marriage mean anything to him?

“Oh, Erika, with a foul mouth,” I replied. I moved a few pots around, so they all had an equal chance in the sun and shadow, then said, “Honestly, Erika, the way you treat this man sometimes, he’s a saint to put up with you.” Dean loves you, you know that.

“Am I doing it?” she asked, returning her frustration. My sister had been in my presence for less than five minutes, and already I wanted another cigarette, to make the stress go away. Looking at the ground, it was too late to recover my smoke; it was stubbed and thrown away, kind of like how I was currently feeling.

I couldn’t go down that path again to pick up the fumes and get hooked, so I went inside and got some coffee ready instead, hoping to relieve cravings and make me feel better.  Erika followed me, once again park on my furniture and not say much.

While flipping through her gossip rag magazine, Erika asked, “Would you go to the mall with me and get your nails done?”

“No thank you,” I replied.

“It will be good for you, it will help you relax, you will feel much better,” Erika said, trying to convince me.

“No thank you,” I said, trying to make myself clearer.

Erika rolled her eyes at me, then settled into the couch where Stephen and I had fucked. “Why don’t you take a friend?” I asked. “What is Lindsay doing these days? Or Rochelle?

“Lindsay got her nose done last week, so she’s too scared to go out, and I don’t hang around often with Rochelle. Since her grandmother died last month, she has been such a downer.

It was so typical Erika, only concerned about herself and how she felt. No matter that her friend was in need after losing someone, Erika’s only concern was when Rochelle would feel “better” again so they could hang out.

The sound of my cell phone ringing while I was receiving the coffee broke the temporary silence that was between me and my sister. Checking the screen, Stephen’s name flashed through it. I ignored it and continued my quest for something to satisfy my craving for a cigarette. I felt nervous and fragile, the only thing my mind could focus on smoking and the gentle and gentle release of lighting. I was hungry all of a sudden too, which was not uncommon for me when I was out of the fumes.

If I was going to give up, this time for good, no quick secret cigs or occasional stress smoke, I needed better food in the house to temporarily curb cravings. I had to push my feed to the side of the road until I was the worst of it. I had been in a bit of denial, telling myself that my smoking didn’t matter because they were Winston Lights, but I wasn’t a fool. I needed to stop. Snack foods would be the only way to get me through it, otherwise I’d be like a bear with a sore head. I had been bad the last few days, almost going through a pack.

Richard never knew I was smoking. I kept it a secret for the duration of our relationship. I had become so good at hiding the fumes and having quick, sneaky cigs that even to this day I still had one thing to smoke in the presence of other people and try to hide it. I made sure I was getting ill either outside, so the smell wouldn’t get into the apartment, or I would do it near a steady stream of air. Smoking through the small bathroom window in an old dressing gown that I no longer wore, so the smell would not come back into my clothes, was a habit I had mastered.

Of course, when we met on the day I was eighteen, I lied directly to my future husband’s face and told him that this was my first time smoking, that I was only trying it because my friends had given me eye. Peer pressure, and all that bull. He believed me, and for the first four months of our relationship, I had given up and was smoke-free.

Everything had changed after he proposed. Erika had returned to my parents’ house with the dresses for the big day, which was only a few weeks away at this point. We made a quick change and tried on the dresses, and my stupid wedding dress didn’t fit. It was perfect in every way except for the fact that I was too big for that. I had a dilemma on my hands, and I didn’t know if I could send it back to Donna to be modified in time.

I made the decision of the executive to resume the fumes that afternoon. It had worked, I settled into my dress during the day, but that meant I had to smoke in secret, as well as trying to quit in secret. Richard had no idea what was going on, he just thought I was in the mood. He had also been mean about my initial weight gain at the time.

The sound of my landline phone ringing interrupted my thoughts, as I sat at the table and drank my coffee.

“Answer the phone,” said Erika, in a nagging tone. “It’s really boring.”

I rolled my eyes and ignored the phone, enjoying my coffee too and starting to feel better. As was apparently her thing that morning, Erika made a noise of frustration and got up, going to get the phone. “No, don’t tell him. “Let it ring, the machine can get it.”

Seconds later, the machine clicked and Stephen’s voice filled the room. Hi, Elaine, I’m just calling regarding what we talked about the other night. Look, I’m sorry I couldn’t do it, something inevitable happened. If you want to go home tonight, I’ll come by. All right, goodbye.

When the tone of the dial beeped, indicating that his message was over, I felt terrible. He looked so sincere and sincere, and I felt like a slut. I questioned my position on avoiding it and my dislike for man.

“Who was that?” Erika asked, suddenly alert, like a young dog who had picked up a perfume. She was now kneeling on the couch, looking at me impatiently.

“Mind your business, Erika please.”

Erika stuck her tongue in my tongue and reintegrated herself into reading her magazine. “Then I heard her say. “Finally on Richard, are you? Have you found a loser to crack on? She was trying to taq me.uiner and taunt me and get a reaction, but I wasn’t playing his stupid little game.

“Let it be done,” I said. She was really doing her best to add to my stress level.

Erika smiled at how I had learned early in my life to hate. When she had a crappy smile on her face, it was going to be a long journey of annoyance and being liquidated. “Be careful,” she says, licking a fingertip and flipping through a page of her magazine in a way that radiated attitude. I felt attacked even by this little gesture.

I now knew not to fall into such a statement, because it was anything but considerate or preoccupied for me. “You will have a reputation for yourself,” she said in a mocking and singing manner.

“Are you kidding me?” I broke up. “It’s so rich coming from you, the girl who after the junior year in high school was told to have had more fucking than feeding!”

“Who said that?” Erika asked, almost shouting in a loud voice. My game had at least worked because she was no longer concerned about the man on the phone calling me.

“Everyone said that.”

“Oh yes,” she said clumsily, looking for something against me in her brain. It was as if we were teenagers again having a strong, chatty quarrel match, except that this time our mother was not here to calm us down and shout “time out”, to us. “You were only chosen for the incentive team because your breasts grew huge in the summer you turned seventeen, the other girls didn’t even love you so much.”

“Oh Erika,” I said.

I was on this petty little fight of ours, however, Erika wasn’t, she just had to get one last stab in “Bernadette Smith and Monica Winton lying with your boyfriend that year too.”

“You’re a little b,” I said. I was so on his.

————————————

I hated myself for getting ready for Stephen’s visit. I, of course, made me look nice and done, but not too done, I could not for a second let him know that it was on purpose. I needed him to believe that I wasn’t invested in it or that he was looking forward to it. I may have shaved in the shower, made my hair and makeup and made me feel good, but I made myself feel nice, but I made myself feel like I was casual as if it were all remnants of my day time shopping.

In terms of his last visit my appearance had been a happy accident, I needed it to be like that again. So when I heard knocking on the door just as I had slipped my day dress on my body, I quickly remembered that these were action stations and that I had thrown this so that I could knock my bills down.

And yet, when I opened the door and saw him standing there, smiling nervously and looking agitated, a bunch of beautiful irises in my hand, I felt my resistance fade. My hard heart softened a touch as I waved at him and accepted the bouquet of flowers.

“You have avoided me,” Stephen told me. I had found an old porcelain vase at the back of one of the cupboards, and now I was filling it with water and I was arranging the beautiful blue and purple flowers. I didn’t answer him at first, I didn’t know if I should deny it or admit it. “Elaine?” he asked.

“What if I have?” I asked. I hated that I looked so defensive.

“I’m sorry about the other night, but what happened, I couldn’t avoid it.” The smug look came back to his face when he said to me, “I had no idea you loved me so much and put such a store in my visits.”

“It’s a business transaction, nothing more,” I say in a steely voice.

“I’m hurt that you say that, Elaine,” Stephen said. He walked to the bench where I was standing and covered my hand with his, the intoxicating but subtle aroma of the flowers filling the air. From this single touch, I felt pulses of electricity bursting through me. “Think of this as more of an arrangement between friends. Quid pro quo.

He cut off my face in his hands, leaned over and kissed me. I felt a desire and desire between us, and I embraced him stronger, my tongue finding his own. I felt his hands in my hair, pulling on the pins and clips, the clicking of light and the ping of them falling on the floors molding to the sounds of frantic sighs, moans, and heavy breathing.

Breaking the kiss, Stephen gently fingered and twirled a wild, curly ringlet. “Can I stay here tonight?”

In spite of myself, a broad smile spread over my face. “Yes,” I murmured in return. I brought him back for a kiss, our tongues being easily found.

In the darkness, the calm and calm of my room, the pale moonlight gently illuminating the bed, I let Stephen slowly undress me, his hands running over my body, sending chills into my spine. His hands were large, strong and slightly callous, but his touch was soft and delicate. Slowly he ran his fingers over my body; tracing the curves and contours of my shape. I sighed and mewed with pleasure.

Turning around, I kissed him and gently pushed him to bed. Her jeans was the first thing to come off, both laughing in the dark as I struggled to unbuckle her belt and pull her pants out of her long legs. I was excited and eager to feel it in me and feel his body against mine.

“Come here,” I heard him say. With stray fingers and grazing nipples, I crawled up to the length of her body, going in a kiss and finding sexual comfort in her blue eyes, lit with the flame of passion. Bring that sweet of yours here, he said. I turned around and felt the quick sting of a hand meeting my left cheek. Placing his hands on either side of my thighs, Stephen bought me down so that my was close to her face, and he went into town.

His language was magical and masterful, finding every nook and cranny unexplored, touching me and tonguing me in places I had forgotten I had. “You shaved,” I heard him observe, his voice slightly muffled. I could feel her breath against my every time her lips touched and her mouth formed words.

“Yes,” I said with a sigh. I was having trouble stabilizing, my thighs were shaking; undulating and spast muscles as I approached orgasm. The tip of his tongue tapped on my clitoris and flicked it back and forth. I was a wet mess, screaming my need for liberation, my body ready to explode with orgasm.

Stephen was like stone; his cock raged and hard, solid as a rock. I read licked my lips as I looked at him, looking at him bob and flexing slightly with his body movements. My fingers clenched and pulled on my nipples as I remembered what he had felt like sucking on it. I remembered how his balls had felt had in my mouth, and how I had circled and tongue his ass. “Fuck,” I shouted.

In the calm and coolness of my room, a finger found my opening, questioning me urgently and poking me, while a tongue clung to my clitaction. My senses felt alive as I shouted to Stephen that I was going to enjoy; blood rushed to my ears and momentarily prevented me from hearing things. My mouth was screaming dirty words and slutty insults, but I didn’t know it was me who said these things, it seemed far away. I had lost all control of my body as I came upon Stephen’s face.

Between my thighs, I felt a slow release of hot liquid, a gentle gushing from the inside. My eyes widened with shock and horror, fearing the worst. I was suddenly broken out of my dreamy orgasmic world and quickly bought down to reality.

There was a slight ringing in my ears as I jumped quickly and stood away from the bed and away from Stephen. I was mortified and totally humiliated as I heard myself apologize over and over again. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

“Elaine,” said Stephen.

“It’s never happened before, I’m so sorry.” At that time, the shame I felt was worse than the shame and embarrassment of discovering my husband had run away with a mom from PTA school. I had never lost control like that before. I couldn’t believe I would let go like that.

“Elaine,” said Stephen. He was sitting on the bed now, looking me straight into the eyes. He didn’t look angry or embarrassed at all, in fact he was still fully erect. “Elaine, that’s not what you think.”

I gave Stephen an interrogative look, my embarrassment collapsing slightly, confusing crawling over me. I said, “What?” I asked.

“That’s not what you think. It’s an odorless and tasteless liquid, it’s not… Well, you know.

‘Oh my God,’ I thought with relief. “It’s not that, I didn’t get wet.

“Has it ever happened before?” Stephen asked. “You ah, you’ve never done that?”

I thought about it for a moment. “I guess not,” I said.

“Come here,” Stephen smiles. He stretched out his arms and wrapped me in them when I approached, kissing me Passionately. I could taste myself on his mouth and tongue; he was right, he had no smell and for the most part he had no real flavor, except for a slight musky sweetness, much like.

His hard cock rubbed against me, pressing my thighs. Almost as if our minds were synchronized, he said, “Now the little question of the rest of my payment.”

I swallowed hard and looked into his eyes. “Will you?” he asked, sensing my hesitation.

I looked down and called him back. I wanted it, I knew I had done it, and not just because it was a form of payment, but because a lecherous thought on the back of my head harassed me, told me to do it, telling me to let it fuck my ass. “Yes,” I murmured.

He smiles wolfishly. “Got condoms and lubricant?” Without words, I pointed to the night on the other side of the bed. I mingled through and watched stephen stretched his lean, muscular shape across the bed and searched into the top drawer of the grandstand. If he came across my vibrator, he never mentioned it, but after a minute or two of hunting, he triumphantly produced a small bottle of lubricant and a condom.

I got on all fours and lowered my head and back, my sticking high in the air, my cheeks spreading slightly naturally. Behind me, I heard the sound of the cork opening on the lubricant bottle. A greasy finger pushed and probed to my back door, spreading cold gel around my, getting used to the feeling of having something out there. I let out a groan of appreciation, electrical impulses and aftershocks of my orgasm a few minutes before flowing again into my veins.

“Ready?”

I swallowed it. I said, “Yes.”

I tried to relax as best I could, trying to loosen my limbs and breathe gently. The tip of his cock slowly pushed to my asshole, gently entering and penetrating me. I felt myself giving in and stretching there; a somewhat painful, somewhat pleasant feeling. It wasn’t unpleasant, and I was enjoying the sensations and feelings of having a rooster in my.

With a triumphant growl, Stephen declared that it was entirely in me. You’ve got a tight little, baby.

“Just go slowly, I told him, breathing deeply, trying to familiarize myself with the feeling of having my asshole used and fucked.

It didn’t take much time for Stephen’s long and gentle shots to increase the pace and depth, and it took even less time for me to get into it and beg for him to fuck me harder.

I enjoyed the feeling of the cold air at night from the window slightly open to my skin, as the hour attracted later. It contrasted well with the warmth I felt in my and. My nipples were tense and hard, my breasts swaying with Stephen’s strength pushed behind me. He didn’t let go with his “oh yes” and “fucking hell” drawing, and I found him sexy and exciting as fucking.

“Fuck my ass,” I shouted.

“Do you want it hard, you dirty little bitch?”

A switch flashed inside me as I was thinking about what he had just said. I had never been called any name before during sex, swearing to myself that I would hate, wondering why anyone would want it or would want it, but now in the moment I understood. I wanted to be a sexy, dirty bitch, I wanted to be a dirty bitch.

“Fuck me,” I begged. “Fuck my ass.”

Stephen let out his sufficient laugh, which I used to hate, but this time I enjoyed it. “Are you trying to make me come, naughty bitch?” He punctuated his question with a slap in the face to my, his palm cracking loudly against my skin. I moaned loudly and repeated my mantra. I felt a hand crawlup up to my body and grab a handful of hair, pulling coarsely. “Say it,” he said. “Please pray for my sperm.”

“Cum,” I said, stopping to moan. “Cum for me.”

“Yes?” Do you want my sperm?

Oh yes, in my. Fuck off.

A scathing slap landed on my as Stephen moaned and growled loudly. I felt his body jerk and tremble behind me, his cock pulsing up my ass.

Eventually, his slowed moans slowed down and his cock slowly softened. Slowly, he pulled it from inside me, gathered me in his arms and laid me down beside him, both of us snuggling up in the pillows. He pulled me in tight to him, a protective arm on me his lameness and passed resting against my. I smiled in the dark, as for the first time in a long, long time, I felt a real sexual satisfaction and fulfillment.

I woke up to the gentle snoring of Stephen’s sleeping form next to me. Looking at the art deco wall clock, with its large bold numbers and long golden hands, I saw that it was after six. A beautiful pink dawn crowned the morning sky as I turned gently and face Stephen. I slowly slipped the pad of my thumb back and forth on his stubbly cheek, waiting for him to wake up. My timed alarm clock gently flashed at the local classic radio station as the low tones of cold rooms gently danced into the room.

“Hello,” said he asleep.

“Hello,” I replied.

The sweet sighs of someone who was half asleep, half awake filled the room early in the morning, until he at last, slowly opened his eyes. He moved my hand from his cheek and kissed it.

“Do you like classical music?” he asked.

“Yes, yes.”

“There’s something Friday night at the theater. I was given tickets a while ago. Would you like to go with me?

I thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know,” I said at last. “I usually work late on Friday nights.” It was, in fact, true. Friday was my day to work a few overtime hours, but I was also suspicious of the arrangement we had and the fact that he was my landlord. “Well,” said he, pulling himself out of the heat of my bed and picking up his clothes. “I’ll go and I’ll be ready and in the lobby at six o’clock, so if you want to come, you can. I’ll move on at some point and get the rest of my late payment fees, he winked.

I sat down and looked at him. “How much do I owe you?”

He shrugged. “As far as I think you’ve been very late with rent payments,” he came and gave me a quick boost on the lips. “It’s a formal thing in the theater, you know how the people of opera and symphony are.”

From the comfort and warmth of my bed, I heard the soft crackof of the front door opening and closing.

 

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Dirty Money