"Damn cat," he muttered to himself.
He muttered to himself quite often. He lived alone in a tiny condo in a rather posh neighborhood in the suburbs. It was expensive as hell, but he could afford it. He didn't really have much time to spend his money on anything else anyway since he worked far harder than he played. It had left a crimp in his social life, but he didn't really feel that he had much of a choice.
"Jim," his father had told him at his college graduation, "this fancy degree of yours was not cheap, so I expect you will follow your ten-year plan. I already have a job lined up for you at the bank with an old friend of mine. I don't want to hear anymore of this art school bullshit."
And he didn't.
Jim Lachance was always standing in the shadows of all the other men in his family and he could tell that his father was always rather disappointed in him regardless of how hard he had tried to impress him. He went to a prestigious business college like his father wanted yet his brother joined the military and became a goddamned hero. His father was fast to forget that Jim had put his dreams on a permanent hiatus to appease him.
But he couldn't complain. He was making insanely good money at a steady job, had a chance at making partner at his firm within the next year or two and... lived alone with his cat. It had its perks but companionship was not one of them.
Every weekday he showered, got dressed in his three-piece suit, fed the cat and took the subway into the city to work. The ride to work was definitely his favorite part of the day. He would take a good book with him each day and most of the time he would actually read it. But some days he was only pretending to read so that he could scope out the bevy of young women who might actually stop and say, "Oh my God, I love that book! Perhaps we could discuss it further over coffee?"
That hadn't ever happened. Ever.
But it was okay, because if they weren't the kind of girl who wasn't interested in reading what he was reading, then they weren't worth his time anyway. One of his favorite quotes was: "If you go home with somebody, and they don't have books, don't fuck 'em." Although at this point he wasn't about to be too picky.
As an adult he had always gone for the lean, well-mannered, blonde girls, but he had been burned one too many times in the past. And recently he hadn't been burned at all. God, what he'd give to be burned!
Lately he had started looking at women that he hadn't considered looking at for years. He was a thirty-something, white guy who was a little bit on the short side, but only a little. He tried to be as clean shaven as often as possible, but sometimes shaving took a backseat to sleep. He was hoping that maybe he could find a lady who had a tattoo or a piercing... or a Catholic schoolgirl with a very short plaid skirt who was perpetually sucking on a lollipop... or you know, a Latin girl, whatever. Nothing too specific. Just someone he could have a good time with that wasn't going to leave him high and dry the next day. There was a woman at the banking firm that he worked at that he had many a fantasy about, but she didn't seem the least bit interested and he felt that he lacked the social skills to approach her or any female. He had all but given up, when on his way home that day he happened upon his dream girl.
The train had passed through a tunnel and the crappy lights kept flickering like crazy. She seemed to appeared out of nowhere after the train had emerged, sitting only a few seats away from him on the subway. She had blue hair, in loose flowing pigtails that barely touched the tips of her perky little breasts which were covered up by a faded, black rock tee that had been cut down the front to show off her impeccable cleavage. She wore black and red checkered suspenders which were clipped onto a pleated, red plaid skirt that rested far below her hips and cut off well above the knee. She was sporting some intense knee-high, platform combat boots with fishnet stockings and had a nose ring and a lip ring. She had creamy tan legs, a creamy tan middrift and long, polished nails. And she was looking right at him.
He was going to be getting off in a few stops and was unsure if she was really looking at him or if she was eye-fucking some other guy behind him. But as luck would have it, she made the first move.
"I couldn't help but notice that you're reading Fahrenheit 451" she told him in a bubbly voice as she floated over to him while the train stopped. "That is my favorite Michael Moore documentary. All those poor people!"
"Uh..." he started to correct her. But she hadn't sat down quickly enough and as the train jerked back to life she toppled over into his lap. She couldn't have fallen anymore perfectly. It was as if she had come over to get a spanking. He turned about four different shades of red. She giggled a bit and pushed herself up.
"Sorry about that," she said in a cheery tone. "Mind if I sit next to you?" she asked without waiting for an answer. "My name's Sally. And you are...?"
"Oh, um, I'm Jim," he said nervously, clearing his throat and trying to regain his nerve.
"I really like that you're actually reading on here. Most people that take the subway are just kinda weird. It's real refreshing, ya know?" he noticed that she was chewing gum in between words.
"Oh, well, uh, I guess I just really like to read!" he said unsure of what to say next, unable to make eye contact.
"I'm really into smart guys," she smiled at him devilishly. "I'm going to a show in a few hours. You wanna go?"
"Me? Tonight? But it's a Tuesday and--"
"Oh," she said visibly saddened. "It's okay, I don't know what I was thinking just coming over here like this. I just..."
"I'd love to go," he blurted out.
"You would?" she squeaked. "Oh that would be great! I will meet you at the Cleveland station at eight!"
"Okay," he replied unsure of what he had just agreed to. "I guess that I'll--"
"Oops! This is my stop! Cleveland station at eight! See you then!" And she gave him a wink and was out the door and onto the platform.
He got to the station at about five minutes to eight. He wasn't exactly sure what kind of show they were going to be going to, so he just wore jeans and a t-shirt. He had never done anything so impulsive before and was quite certain that she wasn't going to show up. But at precisely eight o'clock she showed up donning the same outfit that she was wearing that afternoon.
"Hi there," he waved to her shyly.
"Hey you! I'm so glad you showed up!" she exclaimed. "I wasn't sure if you were actually coming and I would have felt so stupid if you hadn't been here!"
"Yeah, totally," he said trying to play it cool. "So what kind of show are we going to? Punk band? Metal?"
"Come again?" he said somewhat surprised.
"We are going to an art show in the city! My friend Reshma is putting on a show and she said that I could bring a guest!" she clapped her hands together and practically jumped in the air.
"Reshma? That's crazy, I work with someone named Reshma. Is she an Indian lady with a tiny nose piercing and long hair?"
"Uh...Yeah! I'm willing to bet that they are one in the same! She's just the best!" Sally smiled. "Let's go before we miss the next train!" And she grabbed his hand pulling him towards the platform.
Reshma just happened to be the woman at work that Jim was constantly fantasizing over.
This was going to be weird.
When they got to "The Gallery on 12th Street" (which in typical yuppie fashion was a gallery located on 12th Street) Jim felt decidedly under dressed for the occasion. It was one of those events where college students in bowties were serving trays of champagne and hors d'oeuvres for trendy people in cocktail dresses and business casual.
The ride over had been thirty minutes of non-stop chattering from Sally and feigned interest in various topics from both parties. Jim didn't think that it had been going particularly well, but Sally didn't seem to feel that way at all. The gallery was quite small and there were only ten pieces on display that night--all of which were created by Reshma Gupta according to the program being passed out at the door.
He scanned the room looking for the elusive artist. He hadn't even known that she painted outside of work, but they were all quite good. She generally wore boring grey business suits at work with just a touch of lipstick to add some color to her face, but nothing more exciting than that. When he finally happened to catch a glance at her he was taken aback at how amazing she looked. She was dressed in an elegant sapphire evening gown and had a ton of gold bangles on her arm that made her dark skin stand out beautifully. And for the first time ever he saw her with her hair down and a myriad of thoughts that he had given up even thinking a long time ago popped back into his head.
"Look!" Jim told Sally grabbing her by the arm. "There's Reshma! Let's go say hi!" He took a glass of champagne and downed the whole thing in seconds to calm his nerves. Part of him wished there was some orange juice around to accompany it, but the thought left his head quickly.
"Uh... Maybe we should look at the art first," Sally said nervously, . "You know, so we can let her know what we think of it!"
"We just got here," he told her. "I'm sure she'll understand." And he continued to pull her towards the guest of honor. Sally darted her eyes around the room suspiciously.
"Jim, before we go over there, can I have just a teeny moment alone with you?" she asked sweetly. "Over here." She motioned towards what looked like a utility closet.
"Um, I guess," he said somewhat confused.
They walked over to the closet and she opened the door and pulled him inside with her.
"I don't want you to get the wrong impression of me," she started, pulling him closer towards her by the belt loops in his jeans. "I don't go around doing this thing all the time."
"Doing what kind of thing?"
And before he could ask her anymore questions she undid the button on the front of his pants and looked at him with a serious case of bedroom eyes. She had the most incredible green eyes that he'd ever seen before. He didn't know why he hadn't noticed earlier. She batted her lashes at him and slowly unzipped his zipper. He tried backing away a bit, but just ended up against the back of the door.
"Sally," he started. "I mean... We just met and... I don't..."
But very quickly she had a hand down the front of his boxers and all arguments were invalid.
"Jim," she told him in a suddenly sultry voice, "I know you want me. I saw it on the train. Even if it's just for this, that's okay." And as she slowly rubbed against him with one hand, she placed the other on his shoulder and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "You should treat yourself every now and then, sweetie," she said softly. Then she proceeded to lick the bottom of his ear and nibble it a bit and she could feel him grow under the touch of her well-manicured fingers.
"I--" he tried protesting one last time.
"Shhhh," she said placing a finger to his lips. "Let me do this for you. We both need a little excitement in our lives." And he stopped fighting her and let his arms fall to the sides. "Good man," she laughed.
She was about two inches taller than he was without the boots, so with the boots she towered over him and it kind of turned him on even more. She looked him dead in the eyes and cocked her head to the side, her blue pigtails bouncing a bit. Then without notice she straightened up and planted her lips over his and kissed him roughly, grabbing the back of his head with one hand and stroking his ego with the other. She heard a moan escape his throat and she smiled deviously with her eyes. She pulled away from him for a second, slapped him across the face and laughed maniacally.
With an almost superhuman speed she dropped to her knees and brought his pants and boxers down with her in one near fluid motion. The door was much colder on his ass than he could have possibly anticipated and he flinched a bit. She laughed even harder and looked up at him from the floor.
"You are fucking adorable," she told him. And with that she put her full, pouty lips over his shaft and did some amazing things with her tongue that caused him to put his palms up against the door where they remained plastered for a few minutes of wet ecstasy. She came up for air with a loud smack from her lips and looked at him critically. "Are you planning on participating here?" she asked him.
"Huh?" he asked her somewhat dazed. "What do you mean?"
"These pigtails aren't just for show, ya know," she chastised him playfully. She guided his hands to her sapphire tresses and told him, "It's okay to get a little rough, Jim."
He looked down at the blue-haired goddess on her knees before him and an inexplicable rage came over him. This girl was incredibly attractive, yet he wanted to smite her from existence for being so damn dense. She didn't even know who fucking Ray Bradbury was! He wrapped her luscious locks around his hands and brought her face down into his lap; slowly at first but then building up somewhat of a rhythm, crashing himself into her. She wriggled a bit under his hands and rested her fingers on his thighs as he became a bit too forceful for her. She tried to speak through a mouthful of flesh, but her muffled voice was all he heard. She looked up at him with wide eyes and saw the same raw passion that she was inflicting on her echoed in his face. She scratched him roughly with her nails and finally he eased up a bit allowing her to back off enough to pant, "If you're going to get that intense you may as well fuck me."
He nodded silently, reached in his back pocket and pulled out the leather wallet that his father got him as a graduation present. In the billfold there was a single condom that he had been saving for such an occasion. Unfortunately he had planned for it too long ago and the latex had long since expired. She arched an eyebrow at him and cracked a smile. "Don't worry, I always come prepared," she said passing him a new one. He slid it on as she got off the ground and slid her panties down around her ankles. They were the smallest piece of fabric he'd ever seen and were the same electric blue color as her hair.
She bent over and braced herself on a shelving unit attached to the wall. In the process she knocked over a broom and two bottles of glass cleaner. He was almost certain that no one had heard it, but for good measure he locked the door just in case.
He put himself into position over her tight wetness and she looked over her shoulder at him with her gorgeous green eyes. The blank stare she gave him was enough to set him over the edge again and he guided himself into her then held her hips fast so that he could push everything that he had into her. She moaned loudly and he started looking around in a very paranoid manner thinking that someone had to have heard that.
"You have to be more quiet," he told her in a loud whisper.
In response to that she tightened herself around him and he continued performing the task at hand. He tried to be gentle so that she wouldn't be so noisy, but she just wouldn't shut the fuck up. So he took one hand and cupped it over her mouth as he thrust himself into her harder and faster. That seemed to work out much more to his advantage and he was able to get her at a much more pleasing angle.
She cried but it just came out as a shrill noise from behind closed lips. Beads of sweat started to form on his forehead as she took him inside of her like the dumb slut that she was acting like. His legs started to get a bit tired so he grabbed her hips with both hands again and started pulling her down on his cock. She was absolutely dripping and he didn't think he could take much more. Her moaning got louder and louder and he noticed she was rubbing herself furiously with one hand. He didn't give a damn who heard what. Totally worth it.
Until someone eventually did hear it. Actually quite a few people heard it. And one of them had keys.
Jim heard the keys rattling around in someone's hand right outside the door, but it was too late now, he was already there. He grabbed her by the pigtails and slammed himself into her as hard as he could. She tightened around him one last time and they both moaned in shivers of ecstasy as the gallery manager and several other onlookers gawked into the now open door. One woman even dropped her champagne flute to the ground.
"Jim?" asked a voice from the back of the crowd.
He looked over to see Reshma coming towards the closet.
"Jim Lachance? What are you doing?" she asked somewhat horrified. He looked at her in her elegant gown and her flawless hair and makeup. She looked at him sweating profusely, still inside of some skanky college student with a hank of blue hair in his hand. "Are you insane? Who the hell is this bitch?"
"Uhhh... Everyone give me one second. My apologies," he said quickly, slamming the door.
He carefully pulled out of her and helped get her vertical again.
"So I am going to go out on a limb and guess that you don't know Reshma," he said angrily getting everything on his person back in order.
"Well, I mean... I know of her..." she said carefully, pulling her panties back up over her hips.
"Why the hell did we come here? Out of all the places to go in this giant fucking city! Why here?" he cried.
Before she could answer, Reshma pounded on the door. "Get out here, Jim! You're ruining my gala!"
"I'd hardly call this a gala..." Sally said quietly. Jim shot her a dirty look. "Sorry!"
"Decent or not, you are leaving now!" said Reshma opening the door dramatically. "Oh good, everyone is fully clothed! Now get the hell out!" She pulled him by the shirt dragging him to the entrance and Sally followed close behind.
"Reshma, I'm so sorry! I-- She--" But once they were out on the curb she closed the door and spat on the ground at his feet.
"I can't fucking believe you, Jim," she said in a low vicious tone that her patrons couldn't hear. She headed back inside and didn't look back. He saw her plaster an apologetic smile on her face when she was back inside and he felt insanely terrible.
"So," Sally said from a few feet behind him, "I guess that's Reshma. She seems nice."
"What the fuck was that about? Did someone hire you to humiliate me? Because it fucking worked!"
"Just get the hell away from me!" he shouted at her.
She looked at him sadly and opened her mouth to speak, but was unable to think of anything to say, then walked off down the street.
He sat down on the sidewalk and hugged his knees with his head in his lap. He looked up after a few moments of thinking that maybe he had been a bit harsh on the girl, but she was already gone. The city was too big and he was too tired. He sighed and hung his head back down for a good ten minutes. It had been a crazy day. He was about to get up and leave when he suddenly heard the door open from behind him.
"So, I see you're still here," Reshma said coldly.
"Listen, I am really sorry, Reshma," he said getting up off the curb. "I don't know what just happened back there. I seriously just met that girl today and--"
She looked like she was starting to get very angry again, so he tried explaining himself even more. He just kept talking and talking until she looked like she started to understand what he was talking about and where he was coming from.
"Also, I had no idea that you painted," he said finishing his lengthy lament.
"You never asked," she replied. "I've seen you staring at me at work, but you've never come to talk to me."
"Oh... Um... Can we start tonight over?" he asked with an expression begging for forgiveness.
"You mean you want me to forget that I saw you having sex with some random girl in a closet tonight? Yeah, that's not happening," she laughed. "But if you like you can come back inside and let me know what you think of my work. I do more than just crunch numbers you know."
"Isn't it going to be weird for me to go back in there?" he asked in a low voice.
"Jim, it's the fucking city. People see shit like that in alleys and McDonald's restrooms on a daily basis. Come on."
And she grabbed his arm as they walked in the door. He smiled and looked truly happy for the first time in years.
"So, I see you're finished there, Sally," said the man in the shadows.
"Yeah," she said slowly. "I feel so bad though. I know that you said this was to help things along, but I feel like I just made things worse back there."
She took the elastic bands out from around her pigtails and let down her hair. She shook it out a bit and then ran a hand through it changing it back to her natural dark brown.
"Oh, Lily," he whined, "I liked the blue hair! Won't you change it back?"
"Not tonight, Ash. I'm beat." He tossed her a black duffel bag and she changed in the darkness of the alley. Jeans and a t-shirt were way more her style. She pulled the fake piercings out of her lip and nose and placed them in the pocket of the bag.
"Well, if it makes you feel any better, darling, I think she understands how he feels now. She let him come back inside and everything."
"I thought you said I was incapable of feeling anything?" she said slyly.
"Perhaps I am wrong. But I seriously doubt it," he scoffed. "Once a succubus, always a succubus."
"Well, yeah, but I'm pretty sure that's only true because I'm immortal," she said rolling her eyes at him.
They both laughed as they made their way down the dark alley, emerging back into the orange light of the street lamp.
"Come on kid, I'll buy you a donut," he said offering her his arm.
"You're on," she replied. They had just turned the corner when she thought about the stupid girl that she was pretending to be for the day. "Ash, if I ever get hit over the head, become a total moron and don't know the difference between Michael Moore and Ray Bradbury, just kill me."
"I'll try," he said. "It would most likely be in vein, but I'll try."
"Thanks," she smiled.
And they walked arm in arm through the city on a quest for late night donuts, content with the knowledge that they had completed yet another task that required more than just divine intervention.
And they walked arm in arm through the city on a quest for late night donuts, content with the knowledge that they had completed yet another task that required more than just divine intervention.