The Temptress

"Oh, Teddy."

Silent whimpers coated my ear channels as I pushed inside her. She was wet. No, she was fucking soaked.

"Ahh, yeah," she hissed through clenched teeth, and she combed her nails through my hair and pulled when I started moving. A perky, firm ass filled my palms as I rocked us both in a steady rhythm, and she moaned when I pushed her up against the wall and lifted her, so her legs wrapped around my hips. I was already breathing hard. The familiar tension was starting to build up, but I held back. We had to stay silent and make it quick so we wouldn't get caught, but I took pride in making her cum first. Most of all because I loved the sensation of a pulsating pussy clenching around my cock.

"Oh, my God," she moaned, and I could hear it in her voice that it wouldn't take long.

"Are you cumming, Camela?"

Instead of answering, she swallowed and nodded. Then she let out a loud moan that made me place my hand over her mouth.

"Shh... Keep it low," I murmured and smiled. I loved watching when she panted against my hand. It made me feel powerful in a way. And even more so the times when she allowed me to squeeze her throat. Kinky, I know, but whatever to spice up an otherwise uneventful life, right?

Being single wasn't as fun as when I was a teen. Now I was in the beginning of my forties, divorced, and officially done with women for anything else but occasional hookups. And the past year I had mostly been fucking Camela, the staff leader at our local gym, 'Fit for All'. She was a goddamn sexy little thing, but her whiny and clinging personality made it easy not to want something more.

Camela started chanting my name, and I felt her lips move against my palm. It was best that way. Then I didn't have to kiss her, which was how I preferred it. It excluded the intimacy I'd sworn to stay away from, and it was less personal. It was perfect.

"Cum for me," I demanded, knowing that usually was enough to tip her over the edge. Lowering my voice to a deep whisper directly into her ear was another. And when I did both and gave her a few rough thrusts, she arched her back and squeezed her eyes shut. Then finally, I allowed myself to get my release too.

I grunted and squeezed her ass hard when I pumped the condom full inside her, and she whimpered into my neck. I changed my grip to make her stand and grabbed around my dick as I pulled out, while I made sure the condom was still intact. No way was I gonna knock her up and fuck my life up together with it. I already had a son. A grown one who was gonna get married in a couple of weeks. That was more than enough.

"Fuck," I mumbled and gave Camelo a quick kiss on the cheek. She turned her head a little so I could kiss her on the lips, but I dodged her attempt and made it seem like I didn't notice what she was trying to do. Cruel perhaps, but necessary. Then I disposed the condom and tucked myself back in my pants.

"So, do you have any plans for later?" she asked and fixed her tits to make sure they were back in her sports bra. They were still way too exposed to be considered publicly acceptable, and her erect nipples were showing through, but that wasn't my problem. Her tights were. They were hugging her thighs and ass perfectly and made her look even more fit than she already was. Literally all the muscles were at display, teasing the fabric for each time they vibrated and flexed under her skin. You could see everything, even the vague contours of her pussy lips when she stood a certain way, which was the reason why we started fucking in the first place. The temptation was simply too big. And lifting weights with a half hard in your sweatpants was kind of revealing, and highly inappropriate and embarrassing. Lucky for me, she was horny enough to give me the relief I craved.

"Uhm... Yeah. I'm having visitors over. Family," I said, but it was probably just a mumble. I didn't care if she believed me or not, but at least it wasn't a complete lie. My son and his fiancé were coming from New York this summer, and were staying for a few weeks to celebrate their wedding. I didn't know if they'd arrived or not, though. They were staying at my ex's house anyway, which probably was for the best, but Camelo didn't need to know that.

"Oh. Okay. So..." she said awkwardly and reminded me of how much I hated this part. The after sex. The small talk you had to do because it was expected of you, even though you didn't have anything in common.

"So... See you around, then?"

"Yeah. See ya'," she replied, sounding slightly disappointed. I didn't care. She knew what she'd signed up for, so it shouldn't come as a surprise. I didn't want a girlfriend. Period. Everybody knew that.

I left the gym, heading for the grocery store, with the pleasant aftermath of having some of the gnawing sexual tension relieved. I knew it wouldn't last long, but I did have hands, although fucking my fist while watching porn far from the real deal. But being sexually frustrated was okay compared to having a witch from hell haunting you every living hour, yelling at you because every single thing you did wasn't good enough according to her insane standards. No, fuck all that. I'd been a loner ever since the divorce, and that's how it was gonna stay.

Now it was time for dinner, and my bored mind was growling louder than my hungry stomach. It was the same fucking question every day. Chicken? Had it yesterday. Fish? Nah. Didn't bother to decide which kind. Burger? No. If so, I would have bought it elsewhere and not the kind you have to make yourself. Soup? Hell no...

"Oh! I'm sorry!"

The words were exclaimed simultaneously by myself and the person I crashed into, and our eyes connected barely a second later. She automatically smiled and I saw a blush spread on her cheeks, while brown, doe eyes blinked with embarrassment. She was cute.

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't see where I was going," she said shyly and averted her gaze, and I found myself wanting her to look at me again. She was young, probably late in her teens or around twenty or so, and her hair was like a river of dark caramel flooding over her left shoulder and down her back.

"It's okay. I didn't see where I was going, either."

Her eyes snapped up to mine again at the sound of my voice, and I saw her teeth graze over her bottom lip. Then she mirrored me when I smiled down at her.

"You look familiar. Have we met before?" she asked but shook her head right after she saw my questioning face.

"Never mind. You don't happen to know where I can find vanilla extract, do you?" she asked, and when she coyly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, I spotted a ring on her finger. She was probably either married or engaged. But wasn't she too young for that?

Like you're the one to speak? You got married three days after you turned eighteen. Yeah, but that wasn't really by choice, was it?

"Sure. It's in the baking section over there," I said and pointed out the direction, and I chuckled when I heard her groan.

"I can't believe I walked right past that."

She smiled at me again, and I found myself taking a liking to the way she bit the corner of her bottom lip.

"Thanks."

"No problem," I said, and annoyed myself for sounding a bit cocky. I had no business flirting with her. She was way too young. Still, I found myself giving her a second glance before she disappeared down the aisle. And I couldn't help but discreetly look around while I was waiting in line to pay. Those eyes...

Bluebell..

I was five minutes late for work the day after. I'd been up playing my guitar, trying to come up with the right bridge for a song I wrote. It didn't go very well. So now I was tired, annoyed and left with the same loop of wordless lyrics that went on and on in my head.

"Coffee, sir?" Ciara asked, but her smile disappeared as soon as she noticed the dark cloud above my head.

"Sorry, I asked."

She mumbled something more, but I wasn't even interested in trying to make out what it was. It was probably just crap anyway. She could stick to her job as the secretary she was hired to be, instead of vacuuming the building for gossip to spread like a contagious virus in the cantina during lunch. But that was just typical women.

"What's on the agenda?" I grumbled before I slumped down at my drawing board. Being an architect was nice and all, but not when your creativity equaled the same as the one of a spoon. Please, someone, give me some inspiration!

"The Dubler's project."

I groaned.

"I thought we were done with that? How many more layouts does that guy need?"

"It's not him, Teddy. He's just representing their team," Nate interjected. He was seated right next to me and had been my partner in crime for many years. Now we weren't just best friends, but also colleagues, after he quit his old job to work here at 'Unlimited lines inc'.

"Well, he can shove the whole skyscraper up a place where the sun doesn't shine."

The sound of a door opening made me stop and listen to the sound of footsteps, until I was met by a pair of steel grey eyes that belonged to my boss.

"You're late, Mr. De Angelo," he said, his tone quite threatening.

"Again."

"Yeah. I was busy screwing your wife," I barked back, and Nate coughed out a laugh. Even Jerry had to laugh. So much for being a disciplinarian boss.

"You're in a mood," he commented sarcastically, and made me roll my eyes.

"He's not been getting any lately. So you better talk to your little wifey," Nate commented, and I slapped his arm.

"Shut up, and leave Shiloh alone," Jerry grumbled, and slapped the back of my head, when Ciara chimed in.

"You guys are so physical today, I almost..."

"No, we're not gonna include you in a foursome," all of us retorted in unison, and as expected, Ciara gaped in offence.

"That was not what I meant!"

"Sure," Nate said, and grabbed his pencil and returned to his drawing board. Sure, modern technology had made our job of drawing buildings easier, but sometimes you had to do it the old-fashioned way. And with customers like Dubler, you simply had to try everything.

"What I meant was that if I didn't know any better, I would think the three of you had something going on."

Nate, Jerry and I stared at her, dead-panned, and she held up her hands in defeat.

"So sorry for interrupting your macho club, assholes," she muttered sourly, and I sent Nate a certain look. After I was dumb enough to fuck her, the dynamics in the office changed, and in many ways, I'd say it was ruined. But Jerry refused to fire her just because I couldn't keep my dick in my pants, so that was how it was. Therefore, I always did my best to ignore her.

"Hey, J?" I asked, and immediately got his attention.

"I was thinking about what you said the other day."

"You're starting your own business?" he exclaimed but was instantly relieved when I shook my head.

"No way. Not as long as I can work for you and make you do all the boring paperwork and leave the drawing to me. But I meant that South side company. I know it's not exactly down our lane, but maybe it would be good for the business to start doing regular houses, too? I know I wouldn't mind a break from all the huge cases, and I think drawing a little house now and then will boost our creativity."

Both Nate and Jerry nodded in silence while thinking about it, and even Ciara seemed to agree.

"Sounds like a beer plan," Jerry said, while he rubbed his cheek. He hadn't shaved today, either. And I doubted any of us bothered to do it later before we went to this beer plan, which mostly consisted of the three of us hanging out at our usual bar, discussing work topics and women, each of us with a beer or two in our hands.

We looked at each other in a certain way, as if we mentally shook hands over an important deal.

"A beer plan it is."

,

"Absolutely not! I wouldn't even want to be near her. Not after you talked so much about her."

Nate said this, after having three glasses of beer. Jerry just laughed.

"You're too choosy," I said, feeling annoyed.

"Some people think any kind of sex is good."

"That's not true. Right, Jerry?"

"He doesn't count!" I said, leaning forward with my elbows on the table. The table had small puddles of water from the moisture of our beer glasses and my two whiskeys with ice. There were many glasses in front of us, making these wet spots on the table, but they were not big enough to bother me much.

"He's been with the same person for twenty years. How aren't you tired of her by now?"

My eyes felt blurry, but I caught Jerry's gaze and snickered. I knew I was poking the bear.

"Because that's how true love is, Teddy. But how would you know? You've never tried it."

"Cut that fucking crap. They're all the same. They're made to bury your dick inside, and that's it. I bet you still remember how good it was to taste some fresh pussy, J. Rita, wasn't it?"

"Teddy. Stop," Nate warned, but I was too drunk to care.

"You should do it again, you know. Nobody's gonna tell your wife if you get a little something tonight. At least a blow."

"Dude! You're such an asshole sometimes. Learn when to shut up."

Jerry sat on his chair, stiff and mute as a marble sculpture, with his arms folded low on his chest. Okay, I might have taken his infidelity a few years ago a bit too far. Nate was right. It was none of my business.

"Oh, well," I shrugged, and finished my whiskey with a little hiss. Then I scanned the bar for the hundredth time this evening, and my eyes immediately reconnected with a tall brunette that I'd been eye flirting with for the last hour.

"Suit yourself. I'm gonna get laid tonight. And you should go home to Shiloh. She's probably up, waiting for you. Or not."

I mumbled the last part to myself. I just couldn't understand how he was satisfied seeing the same tired face every goddamn day. For years! Half of his life, actually. And when you've hit the big forties, that's a long time.

"Until tomorrow, then," I grumbled, and flipped them the bird as I left, knowing that I probably would be late for work tomorrow, too. But right now, my dick didn't care. And my target was right in front of me.

"Hello there, beautif..."

And that was the moment I realized that she was married. A huge diamond ring sat on her finger and screamed at me to get lost. But surprisingly, she wanted it differently.

"Hello, handsome. What are you up to?" she asked, and I could hear the attempt of seduction in her voice.

"I was wondering if I could buy you a drink," I said and smiled charmingly, although I felt awkward about it now. With my luck, her husband would come in and cause a scene that could possibly lead to a broken nose. So as soon as I'd given her the drink, I tried to excuse myself and go to the bathroom.

"Not so fast, stallion," she chuckled lowly and grabbed my shirt by the collar. And after stumbling a bit, I turned back to face her.

"I haven't thanked you yet."

She had a certain glimpse in her eyes when she said that, and I cursed my perverted mind. She couldn't possibly mean what I was hoping for. Or? But I halted in my actions when she pulled me closer before she stroked her palm across my chest, and tickled my collar bones with sharp nails. Then she leaned in, and I almost expected her to kiss me. Instead, she said exactly what I was hoping for.

"Meet me outside the restrooms," she whispered into my ear, and I shuddered when her lips came in contact with my skin. She retracted just enough to meet my eyes and batted her long, fake eyelashes at me together with pouting her lips.

"I'll be damned. That was easy," I exclaimed to myself, while I watched her back and round, swaying hips disappear into the chaos of sweaty, unsteady people.

So I followed her like the horndog I was and ended up doing the classic; banging her in one of the stalls in the toilet and left in shame and with a starting headache that I knew would be stubborn enough to stay put until lunch the day after. Was I proud? Of course not. Did I care? Nope.

At least that's what I told myself over and over...

I was surprised. My hangover wasn't as bad as expected. Before eleven a.m. I was already done with several adjustments to the sketches made of Dubler Tower. Hopefully, they would like one of them. And the rest of the day went equally fast. My creativity was back and my mood was lifted, which was why I picked up the guitar as soon as I came home. The sheets with lyrics were already spread across the table and the couch from the day before. One of the advantages of living alone. Nobody messed with your stuff, and nobody yelled at you for having it lying around, either. Not that it made my apartment especially messy, because I honestly hated clutter.

"Darkness chasing sun... No. Darkness kills the sun," I mumbled to myself and strummed a few chords to hear if it fit. It did.

"Blackheart, dead beats, black heart, dead beats, black heart, dead beats," I chanted, picturing how the choirs would sound from a stage. Adding drums and a heavy baseline, and wouldn't sound half bad. Encouraged by my newfound inspiration, I took it all from the top and played the complete song for the very first time. Nothing felt more satisfying than that.