Gender: Male Age: 45 Location: N/A
AGENTS OF SHIELD: CHAPTER THREE
The Ballad of Scary Steve
by Wojo Martin
In our third and final story detailing the exploits of the recent college grads employed by the fictional nationwide corporation, Shield Insurance, we get to know "Scary Steve," the mystery man of the cohort.
As with all the Shield stories, this is a mostly lighthearted examination of the role sex and romance play in the lives of young people striving to find their place in the adult world. It's not a "quick stroke" story.
This chapter features “straight” sex between consenting young adults.
Of all the members of the "Agents of Shield" cohort, Mikey Skardowski was the best fit for the town of Wanowee, Wisconsin. He had grown up in the heavily Polish town of Kasimir, only twenty minutes from Green Bay. The football-crazed burg of Wanowee felt much like home—except the names began with "Van" or "Vander" instead of ending with "-ski" or "-czyk." Rookworst was no kielbasa, but he had already come to love stamppot and apple pancakes—not together, mind you!
And he had also found love with a Shield co-worker in Wanowee. April Price, the diminutive Bohemian painter, had stolen his heart. And to make his good fortune in this town seem an embarrassment of riches, sweet little April was far and away the most passionate, and in some ways dirtiest, lover he had ever known. After a youth that had been filled with a fair sampling of cheerleaders and jock-crazed co-eds, Mikey had just been looking for someone with some emotional and intellectual depth. He'd found himself a teacup tigress with an angel's heart.
That was why Mikey was so surprised with the emotion he felt toward her today. Annoyance. Genuine irritation. Sure he'd always loved the way she challenged him intellectually and morally, but her good intentions had turned her into something of a busybody. Brigid and she had always been inclined to help people out, but ever since the roommates had found great joy in their respective relationships with Ollie and Mikey, they'd become convinced that everyone absolutely HAD to find the same type of happiness. It was all too HOWARD'S END for Mikey. "Think of the good karma you'll build up for yourself," he muttered in impersonation of what his love had said in bed that morning. He drifted back a few hours.
"Why don't YOU gather in all this good karma, then?" he asked, kissing her fingertips and wrist.
"Well, I get good karma for helping you gain some of your own... All right, it's because...on the night of the cohort's first big party...I sort of kissed him."
"Really?" he stopped the finger-kissing and stared at her.
"You're not mad?"
"No, of course not." He kissed her fingers again. "I didn't even know your name back then. You were just 'the Bohemian chick' who was rooming with the Irish chick. Well, the ‘hot Bohemian chick.’ I'm just stunned that you found a way to kiss a man who scarcely ever speaks to anyone!"
"Well, it was strange. Brigid pointed him out as looking a little lonely, so I went over to introduce myself and make him feel part of things."
"We talked for a while. He was shy, but very nice in his own way...a little sad. I asked him if he had a girlfriend; I thought maybe Brigid and I could help find him one. But then the wrong thing happened at exactly the wrong time. Just as he told me he didn't have a girlfriend, someone bumped into me and I fell into him, and he accidentally got quite a handful of my tits."
“No, it all went wrong! I stepped back, embarrassed as hell. I've been clumsy my whole life, you know that. He thought I was upset at him and started stammering apologies. He gestured with his arm and knocked my cup of Jerry's nasty red whopatooli out of my hand and down the front of my dress!"
"The tan one?"
"Um-right.” April paused for a moment and touched her lover’s cheek. Mikey wondered where the sudden pause and tender moment had come from. She smiled at him and continued her story. “Anyway, I was trying to reassure him after that. He had turned away because he was so mortified that he didn't want to look me in the eye. He was like a scared little boy, so I put a hand on his shoulder and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. He turned back at that instant and found me on my tiptoes with my lips puckered. He grabbed me by both cheeks and planted a big one on me!"
Mikey began to laugh. He fought to conceal it, but there was no mistaking the shaking movements of his torso. His little angel WAS a klutz, and he adored her for it. She raised an eyebrow at him and continued her tale. "Who could blame him? The moment I found out he didn't have a girlfriend, I put my tits in his hands and then puckered up right at him! I was so red-faced I just bailed on him. I—just can't walk up and talk to him about girlfriends again."
"I guess not."
"And Mikey, don't think I didn't notice."
"I was trying not to laugh."
"Not that. You remembered what dress I was wearing to a party six months ago! Before we even knew each other!"
"Well, you looked good in it."
"You're getting the special treat!" And then she did the thing that drove Mikey crazy. Neither one of them even knew if it had some cool sexual name. So, they just called it "the special treat." She got on top and slid down so that her slick female parts were rubbing against his erection. "What do you want, Mikey?"
"The special treat!"
"Use the words you want to use, baby. This is naughty sex time, not sweet love-making time."
"Rub that sweet little pussy on my big cock, baby."
"Good boy." Her little hands played at the top side of his erection while she ground and slid around on its underside. She cupped the glans and massaged it gently. Her ginger pubic hair was soon quite wet with her own lubrication. She turned around so that her bottom was toward him and pinned his cock back to his belly. She started to rub her box on him. "Do you want to say anything else?"
"You are so fucking hot,” he said, trying to sound cool. Then he offered up what he hoped came across a strong lover’s command. “Rub your little clit on my dick while I stick a finger up your sweet little asshole."
“Do it, then,” she hissed, turned on by the voice he used too rarely for her tastes. She loved when he got strong with her; he was so tender and gentle the rest of the time that she felt he had earned the right to command her at times. She sure got bossy in bed when the mood struck her. That was a freedom he had given her. He reached over and grabbed the tube of gel from the nightstand. This was a practiced thing for them, now. They both loved this dirty aspect of their sex. He lubed her and then his finger and began to probe her ass. “Oh, you fucking dirty bastard,” she whispered.
“Ohhh! Sweet, sweet thing you make me so crazy.”
"Mikey, say it all! I love it!" She was getting almost as stimulated by his tone as his actions.
"You are my hot little fuck, April,” he said in the quiet, strong manner he was coming to believe she loved. “You make me crazy you little hippie slut."
"Only for my man!"
"MY pretty little hippie slut. Just for me."
"Yes, baby! Only for you! Rub my clit!" He reached his other long arm around her and massaged her clit.
"Whimper for me dirty pretty hippie. Whimper because you're so turned on with a finger up your ass and a finger on your little clit!" He was nearly there. This position and this kind of talk always put him over so quickly.
"Cum for me, Mikey. Cum for my naughty little cunt!" He willingly obliged. She took a finger and put a taste of his seed in her mouth. She smiled, rolled back and kissed him deeply before she started to get up to get ready for work. He grabbed her by the hips and pulled her back down to the bed.
"It's still naughty time." He put her on her back and lowered his face toward her sex. "Say it."
"Eat my sweet little pussy, baby. You're hot for me. Make me cum! Oh yes, that's it! That's it!" She had already nearly gone over the top from her own grinding and his long fingers toying with her clit and ass. He didn't have to stay down on her long. He slipped his big thumb inside of her pussy and plunged his finger back in her asshole. He liked doing that to her even more than he liked putting his cock in it. Despite her protests that she could take it, he was always afraid he would hurt her that way. He didn’t ever want to hurt his tiny angel. "N-n-n-n-nn! Kiss...it...you...Your hands are so huge. Ooooh! My ass! Ooooh! That’s so fucking dirty. Oooh! OOOH! OOOOOH!" Her legs clamped together so hard that Mikey half expected to emerge with cauliflower ears. "Ooooh, my man," she purred softly as she relaxed after her sweet release. "My beautiful man." Their "lightning round" was over in time for them to get ready for work. He got up and kissed her sweetly before he grabbed a towel and quickly strode out the door. "You just did that to get to the shower first! Save me some hot water!"
The morning had started so well. Weakened by the euphoria he'd just experienced at April's hands, he foolishly agreed to accept her mission. "You'll be a mighty knight on a sacred quest for his lady love!" he said, again impersonating her. Now he had to go down to underwriting to talk to the inscrutable Scary Steve. April didn't think this guy was creepy, but everyone else did.
Mikey could just imagine his co-workers being interviewed on TV after the quadruple ax-murder, "He seemed harmless enough. Kind of a quiet guy, kept to himself. I mean, I guess we all thought he was a little 'off' but I just can't believe he went all Lizzie Borden on Mikey and his friends while they slept!"
On his way to the elevator he passed Jerry and Teddy, once his best friends at Shield. Now, there was nothing but animosity between them. They were chatting up two nice looking young girls from data entry. Those boys were assholes, all right, but they were handsome and clever assholes from moneyed families—and that went a long way, didn't it? He pressed the down button and the doors opened.
There was his roommate Ollie. He had just barely gotten his hands out of Brigid's skirt quickly enough to avoid an office incident. Mikey stepped inside the elevator. "Love in an elevator..." he sang as the doors closed.
"Livin' it up while I'm goin' down." Ollie replied in kind. Mikey pushed the 'B' button on the key pad.
"So, Mikey, is April goin' over to yer gaff tonoight? I wouldn't mind seeing me own place once in a whoile!"
"Don't get your Irish, up Bridgey. Ollie, she ever do anything besides scold with that tongue?"
"Oh, aren't ye the cute hoor! Just because you're a big strappin' footballer ya think ya can get away with being a joker. Give him a clatter on the gob, Ollie! April knocked him right the feck out; ye can take him, lover."
"She hit him with a ten pound coffee mug!"
"And after I came to, she had sex with me, Ollie. Whatcha say, Bridgey? Can I borrow your boy?"
"He's a man, not a boy, Michael. And if he kicked yer back doors in, ye'd walk with a limp fer a week!" The elevator opened and one of the execs was standing in the doorway.
"Skardowski!" The Senior VP of Nearly Everything beamed at him, then looking at Ollie and Brigid, added, "How's it going, troops?"
"Just foine, Mr. Vander Zanden," Brigid answered, rescuing Ollie who was terrible with the Dutch names.
"Say, Mikey, I'm going bowling with your pals Jerry and Teddy on Saturday morning. We could use a fourth. Roll partners for some brewskies?"
"I'd love to Mr. V, but I'm volunteering in the high school weight room on Saturday mornings. The Wanowee Wildcats are going all the way to Camp Randall next fall!"
"That's the spirit, Skardowski! My boy is a freshman on the team next year!"
"Say, the three of us all bowl, how about after work on Wednesday night? Give you a chance to warm up before you embarrass those clowns on Saturday."
"You ALL bowl?" he looked at Brigid.
"We Irish invented it, Mr. V!"
"Um, that was we Dutch."
"Ah, ya stole it from us, ya roight bastards!" The elevator doors tried to close, but Mikey held them open for Vander Zanden. Brigid stared at the Senior VP of Nearly Everything, and she didn’t show even a trace of a smile. Vander Zanden looked at her for only a second before he broke out laughing. Brigid turned on her cutey-pie smile.
"You're a firecracker, Irish!" he said loudly and burst out laughing again. "Keep an eye on her, son!" he said to Ollie, giving him a light punch on the shoulder. "Going up or down, troops?" he said. Mikey pointed down. "I'm going up. I'll wait for the next one. Wednesday after work it is!" He stepped back and the door closed.
"That, lover, is how ya play the office game!" she said to Ollie. "And this one here," she said nodding toward Mikey, "can play it under pressure."
"Yes, I can."
"Pressure? Is that why you had your hand on Mikey's ass the whole time he was talking to the Senior VP?"
"Absolutely!" They all chuckled. "Smart move not throwing Apricot under the bus. She bowls fer shite. She'd be embarrassed."
"I'm going all the way down to underwriting. Where you two going?"
"We're not going anywhere, Mikey. We just like the elevator." Ollie grinned and made eyes at his lover.
"A couple a 'cute hoors' ye are," Mikey said with a horrible attempt at Brigid's accent. The doors opened to a pair of irritated women from clerical waiting with heavy-looking file crates stuffed with computer operations manuals. Ollie took the crate from one of the pair. Mikey grabbed the other one and stacked it on top of the first. "You need something to keep your hands out of trouble," he whispered to Ollie. Brigid blew Mikey a kiss as he stepped off the elevator.
He headed toward underwriting. Time to meet up with Scary Steve. Underwriting had the same fluorescent lighting as the rest of the building, but even with the doors and ceiling decorated with Christmas lights, it still seemed dark and oppressive. Scary Steve was in the "Old Policy" file room, the heart of darkness. Mikey found Steve with his head buried in one of the four-foot-long sliding file drawers. Scary Steve pulled a file and stood up. He saw Mikey walking toward him and froze. Then he began to walk away. "Steve! I want to talk to you!"
Scary Steve remained motionless for a moment and then, with a little scream, threw the file up in the air and ran. Mikey, with wide eyes, watched the cascade of flying papers for a moment. But then some athletic instinct kicked in, and he gave chase. Steve got to a closed door at the far end of the room and pulled frantically at the knob. It was locked. Mikey pulled to a stop a few feet away from him. Steve flattened himself against the door, and then curled into a semi-fetal position covering his head with his hands. "It was all a misunderstanding! I never meant to grab her there! I didn't know she was your girl!"
Mikey laughed. Then felt guilty about it. "Hey, buddy. I just want to talk."
"You aren't going to pound me?"
"Of course not." So much for "Scary" Steve.
"I didn't mean to grab her at all, and then it just looked like...I thought she wanted me to."
"April thinks you're a sweet guy, Steve. Neither one of us is mad at you."
"So, this is just an underwriting question? I can help you study for the exam. I'm good at it. Not saying you're stupid or anything. I mean lots of former football players are really smart. NFL QB Frank Ryan led the Browns to their last NFL title in 1964, and has a PhD in Advanced Mathematics."
"It's not an underwriting question. I passed the company's exam—barely, on my second try—and how the fuck do you remember things like that?"
"Freaky brainy kid."
"You're no kid, Steve. You're a grown man. Let's go pick up your file and have a chat." Steve nodded and followed Mikey back to the file. They both began to pick up the scattered papers. Mikey had about a dozen sheets in his big mitt when he began to stand up. Steve suddenly reached over and grabbed him by the back of his head.
"File drawer!" Steve said, snatching his hand back. "You get used to it. It really hurts when you hit the old bean on one of these beasties."
"I reckon that would have. Thanks, Steve."
"Mikey, did you really beat up six guys in an alley a couple months ago?"
This again? "I had help."
"I heard. A tiny hippie chick and the little gay dude from the coffee shop..."
"They're tougher than you think." It was not false modesty; Mikey meant it. Steve took the mess of papers to a small table and began to sort them. With scarcely a glance at each, he put the thirty papers in order in just a few seconds. "Great shades of Rain Man!" Mikey whispered.
"I'm not a savant. My brain just organizes things really well. It’s why I can program computers. " He went back to the drawer and quickly returned the file. "Want to see something cool?"
"Sure. Cool stuff is cool."
"Did you just poke fun at me?"
"No, man. I was glad you felt like you could. It’s what friends do. Show me your cool stuff, Steve."
Steve led him back to his computer. He punched a couple commands into the keyboard. "Okay if I do the show?" Steve called out loudly.
"Go for it!" an unseen voice called from a cubicle in the sparsely populated basement maze. "Show time, everybody!"
"Mikey, click on the Santa Claus icon." Mikey moved the mouse to the tiny Santa and clicked it. The entire floor went dark. A booming "HO! HO! HO!" rang out, and the show began. A driving beat began pulsing through a sound system Mikey had no idea was even there. It was a Manheim Steamroller Christmas mix. Every Christmas light began to blink on and off in perfect synchronization with the music. Heads prairie dogged as people stood up in their cubicles to get a better view. It lasted about two minutes, and Mikey loved every second of it. He joined in the enthusiastic round of applause at the end.
"That's the shit, Steve! Why don't you tell people you have this set up?"
"You know when you see one of those houses that do this on Youtube? People drive by all night long and want to see the show. The neighbors start to hate it. It would get pretty annoying for the people who work down here if everybody came down and wanted to see the show."
"You're a cool guy, Steve."
"You’re smart enough to do this and considerate enough to not annoy people with it? That’s cool." Steve blushed, but Mikey went on. "You know what, buddy? You should put on a show like this at the company Christmas party. I can talk to Vander Zanden and set it up."
"Okay. If you think it's a good idea."
"Hey, Steve...why don't you ever talk to people?"
"Well, you know what everybody calls me?"
"Yeah. Scary Steve."
"I don't hate that. I mean, sure it keeps people away from me and all, but it's better than the alternatives. What would they call me if they really knew what I was like? Scaredy Steve, Easy to Beat Up Steve, Never Had a Woman Steve..."
"Never… mind," Mikey made a desperate attempt to cover what he had been about to exclaim. "Never mind about all that. You're a nice guy. And my friends and I will stick up for you. You've got to meet some people, get out in the world. Isn't there a girl somewhere you have an eye on?" Mikey saw him turn red. "Come on, big guy. Who turns your crank?"
"I pretty much have to do that myself."
"Come on, who is she?"
"Well you know Gretchen, the bartender from Vander Voot's Varsity?"
"Slow down, grasshopper. The little bird must learn to feed itself before it flies."
"Your faux Confucian saying makes no sense, but I wasn't setting after Gretchen. Could you imagine that?"
"I have imagined it for myself more than a few times."
"Heh, who wouldn't? Anyway Gretchen's got a cousin that runs the kitchen. I got into town about a week before the rest of the cohort; I didn't have to work yet, and was looking for something to do. I found out Vander Voot's Varsity had one of those quiz games I like. Triple V's was always deserted when I went in there on weekday afternoons. This amazing girl with the most soulful eyes came out and sat at the bar while she did some of the paperwork and prep before supper. I hear she's like some kind of super chef. Anyway, she always watched LOST DVD's on the big screen. And she had a little notebook where she took notes and cross-referenced theories. I kind of timed my visits to be there at the same time. She smiled at me once or twice. Gretchen kept offering to introduce us, but I would have screwed it up."
"Dude...the skinny, I mean slim, redhead? What's her name again?"
"Letje," Steve spoke the name like it was a dream.
Mikey paused to revel in the way Steve said her name. It reminded Mikey of all the good things he felt about April. "Well, she's perfect for you! Maybe she'll 'let ya' take her to the Christmas party!"
"I wouldn't know where to start! I couldn't ask her. What if she said no?"
"Then we move onto one of the three billion other women in the world."
"Actually, with the world population being roughly 6.8 billion and 49.76% of that being female, there are 3.38 billion females in the world."
"Not actually. Around 1.014 billion of those females are under 18 years old."
"And 640 million of them are over 50. I don't think I'm ready for a cougar."
"I agree. If you were, I'd send you up to accounting...there's that one MILF with the leopard print...Sorry, go on."
"That leaves roughly 1.726 billion women between the ages of 18 and 49."
"Steve, you've put some thought into this haven't you?"
"I have a lot of time on my hands at night."
"You ever watch the BIG BANG THEORY? Just curious."
"You think I'm a Sheldon?"
"No, my friend, you are a Leonard all the way. And April watches that show every week, just like millions of other women, and they all think Leonard's adorable."
"I'm Leonard? And Letje's my Penny?"
"She's your slender redheaded Penny."
"Mikey, I'll screw it up somehow. I just know it."
"I won't let you. You know what? I've always wanted to be a coach."
"I think I need more than a coach."
"I'll get you more. I'll build you a team. April and Brigid will help. Ollie's a Top Gun level wingman. We'll get you boxed off."
"I don't think even the Queer Eye team could get me squared away."
"Great idea! We'll start with Mitch."
After work, Mikey drove Steve over to "Beans and Books." There were a few people getting coffee, and the Shield Cohort boys hung back until Mitch was alone. "Chuck-fucking Norris!" Mitch exclaimed, coming around the counter and embracing Mikey. "My badass boy! Sure as sweet Duckie was the better man for Andie, you took your time getting around to see me! You steal my little Bohemian fag hag from me and then go all DB Cooper and bail out into oblivion!"
"Don't be mad, Mitch!"
"How can I be mad at you, Michael Skardowski? You're John Wayne and Bruce Wayne all rolled into one! But I still haven't seen you since Thanksgiving."
"I'm sorry, Mitch."
"You should be. Okay, enough busting your balls, what did you bring me?"
"Mitch, this is Steve from Shield."
"Hi, Mitch." Steve held out his hand.
"Hello, Steve," Mitch gave him a firm handshake and a friendly smile. "Mikey, this is a straight boy. Besides getting him some coffee with a little pick-me-up in it, what do you want me to do with him?" Mitch went to the counter and began filling three very heavy earthenware mugs with some of his best java and the contents of the bottles he kept hidden under the counter "for special customers only."
He handed Mikey one of the mugs, and Mikey looked at the wall above the counter. In a glass case on the wall was a similar mug, a bit chipped and cracked. A dated placard beneath it read, "April Price: 5 foot even, 90 pounds (more like 98, lying little wench) winner by first round TKO over Michael Skardowski: 6 foot 6, 255 pounds." Next to it was a bent-up old trash can lid painted with familiar red and white co-centric circles around a solid blue crest and white star. Mikey noticed that Steve was fascinated by the faux shield.
"You a big Captain America fan, Mitch?" Steve asked.
"Steve, for one night in October, I WAS Captain America! I took on the bad guys with help from the Wasp and Thor here."
"Mitch, Steve here is pretty shy, and he needs to impress a comely young maiden."
"Mikey...why is it that every straight person assumes that a gay man is a relationship and style expert? I make coffee. I sell books."
"I'm guessing that he based the judgment on observation," Steve said. Mitch gave him a quizzical look and gestured for him to continue. "Well, you're sartorially resplendent. Just look at your outfit."
"Mikey, your sins are forgiven. You have at last brought me an intelligent new person to speak to!" He put a hand on Steve's shoulder. "Steve, I like you better than him already. He was all meat and no potatoes. If you can find the way to toss compliments like that at your lady love, you're not going home alone. Tell me; tell me...who are we setting our cap for? I need to know. The hunter has to have the right camouflage for the game, right?"
"Her name is...Letje," the other two men were so drawn in by the way Steve spoke her name that they sighed right along with him.
"Oh, Letje Vander Voot! She's adorable! And a culinary genius. She went to some snazzy cooking school in Amsterdam for a year; she'll be the owner/operator of a posh little eatery before she's thirty, mark my words. Plus, she comes in and tells me wonderful things about my coffee; always has two sugars! Stevie's little baby likes it hot and sweet! We'll get you squared away, young hunter."
"Can I wear a cool shirt like yours?"
"You couldn't pull it off. We need just the right thing for you, for Triple V's and for...Letje. Mikey, tend the counter. Papa has work to do!"
Mikey settled in behind the counter as Mitch took Steve into the back and began to sketch outfits on an avatar from some website of a type Mikey had never even pondered. A favorite Etta James song came on over the sound system. Mikey raised his voice in his best Casey Kasem impersonation, "This Long Distance Dedication goes out to Sexy Steve in Wanowee, Wisconsin. Your time has come Steve!"
Steve listened to the lyrics:
At last, my love has come along
My lonely days are over
And life is like a song
Oh, yeah, at last
The skies above are blue
My heart was wrapped up in clovers
The night I looked at you
I found a dream that I could speak to
A dream that I can call my own
I found a thrill to rest my cheek to
A thrill that I have never known
Oh, yeah when you smile, you smile
Oh, and then the spell was cast
And here we are in heaven
For you are mine
Mikey was proving a good friend, and Mitch was everything Mikey had described him to be and more: Profanely sweet, smart and unceasingly confident. Within ten minutes, they had mail ordered five different outfits for Steve, with rush delivery. "This one," said Mitch. "This is the one that seals the deal. These slacks will accent your firm behind; our little ginger doll won't be able to help but notice. And when you sidle up to the bar at Triple V's, this shirt will make her little nipples pop right off!" Steve wasn't quite as certain. "Trust me, Steven. I might be gay, but I've had many female conquests—of a sort. I've helped more straight men get lucky than free beer and Jello shots combined!"
"Did you ever—I mean before you knew you were gay?"
"No. Your Mitch has always known who he is. Have to admit that I hated being me for a while, but I had friends who saw me through. My cousin Bobby...he was a rock. Helped me tell the family, even."
"He gay, too?"
"Bobby? Heavens to hetero no! He was a Charlie Sheen class pussy-hound before he got married. Now he's a good boy. A one-woman man."
"That's all I want to be."
"If I didn't believe that, I'd never let you near sweet little Letje. Now, about those shoes!"
Steve walked into Triple V's about a week later. His wingman, Ollie, was already in position, one seat removed from Letje and playing the quiz game. They both had decided to use their flex schedule options to get a weekday afternoon off, and Gretchen had made sure she was behind the bar that afternoon. Steve shook a few snowflakes off his head and folded his new leather jacket over his arm. His eyes hadn't quite adjusted to the lower light, but he was pretty sure Letje was looking to see who walked in. He took off his sunglasses and ran his hand back through his hair, just like Brigid had shown him. When he could focus clearly, he saw that Letje smiled slightly. She had recognized him as the door closed against the bright backlight of a winter afternoon. But all too soon, she turned shyly away.
Steve walked to the middle of the bar and dropped the coat over the back of a chair. Gretchen greeted him with a smile and a peck on the cheek.
"What'll it be, Steve?" she said as she had in rehearsal.
"Johnny Walker Black, straight." Steve tried to lean casually against the bar, but his elbow slipped off and he had to straighten up quickly. He glanced quickly down the bar, but Ollie had Letje distracted and she didn't notice. The stunning blonde Gretchen poured him the drink and slid it toward him.
"Sip it slowly!" she whispered. Then she spoke aloud, "On the house for helping me out the other night." She winked to let him know that Letje was listening in.
"Guy was being a jerk,” Steve said with a touch of bass added to his voice. “Just glad I was there." He brought the glass up to his mouth and took a strong pull. His eyes bulged and he jerked his head a bit.
"Lip still sore?" she improvised. "Guy got a lucky shot in. Only one, though."
"We're off the script!" Steve whispered urgently.
"Go with it! We talked about maybe needing to ad-lib...Oh, Steve, you don't need to whisper about it. You're so modest!"
"Nobody likes a braggart, Gretchen." Gretchen smiled and nodded slightly.
"Is that, Steve?" Ollie called out. "Just the man I needed. Get your ass down here!" Steve shrugged as if to excuse himself for abandoning Gretchen. He strode over to stand behind the seat between Ollie and Letje. "I'm trying to play the LOST category, and I'm the one who's completely lost." Steve leaned over the stool to reach the controller. He looked in the mirror behind the bar and caught Letje craning her neck slightly to look at his backside in his tight tan slacks. Mitch WAS a fucking genius!
"'You All Everybody'" Steve said confidently as he punched in the letter C and answered the question about the fictional Driveshaft's big hit song. "Horace Goodbody; B," he said as he leaned back and let Ollie punch in the answer about the Dharma Compound's leader. He turned a little toward Letje and flashed a smile he hoped wasn't too goofy. It also allowed her to see the front of his shirt. Black with a white hand pressed against a round porthole. Across the palm it read, "Not Penny's Boat!"
"God in de hemel! I love your shirt!"
"Everybody loves Des and Pen. He's the Odysseus of our time!"
"Exactly! It's the most romantic thing ever. If they ever kill off either of them, I'm going to..."
"...stop watching the show. Yep, I know what you mean."
Steve tried to see if Mitch's prediction about Letje's nipples was true, but her loose-fitting shirt didn't allow for much of a look at her small breasts. He thought maybe if he craned his neck a bit he could see down the opening.
At this point, an earlier disagreement between the conspirators re-emerged. Steve had wanted Ollie to stick around and help him out should there be any complications. Ollie had insisted that this would be the time for him to bail. Ollie had reluctantly agreed to Steve's demands. But in the heat of the moment, Ollie followed his own instincts and became Barney Stinson from HOW I MET YOUR MOTHER. He asked, "Ha-ave you met Steve?" He steered Steve into the stool next to Letje and quickly walked away.
Both parties sat straight up on their stools and stared silently ahead. Steve took another long pull of his scotch, and as it burned its way down his throat he was left quite unable to speak for a moment. "I'm Letje," she said softly just as Steve was certain he was about to hear crickets begin to chirp. He nodded and pointed in Ollie's direction to indicate that Ollie had already stated Steve's name. "Steve, right."
He glanced around for a moment, seeking something, anything on which he'd be able to focus a conversation. He saw the order sheets in front of her. "A gross gross?" he said.
"You ordered a gross gross in column two. That's 20,736."
"Holy shit! What a mess that would have been! Even in Dutch country we couldn't move that many potatoes. My uncle is picky about how I spend his money. You just saved me from a boatload of trouble!"
"Not Penny's boatload...of trouble."
"Right," she smiled at him.
"Wouldn't want to get you in Dutch, with Vander Voot."
"Right, he'd talk to me like a Dutch uncle!" Her big blue eyes met his. They were so deep and soulful, and every little freckle on her creamy skin was a work of art. Steve was smitten, but he wasn't going to let himself panic.
He heard Mikey's coaching in his mind. "When you most want to crawl back into your shell, that's the time to cowboy up and go for it. That's when you tell her how beautiful she is. That's when you stop being clever and just say what you feel."
"You look like Charlotte Staples Lewis!" he said very quickly.
A look of delight crossed her face. "The archaeologist on LOST?"
"Yep, but your eyes are even prettier, and hers are just fine. I mean hers are better than just fine, but yours are better...than that." He held his breath.
She blushed and looked down. "You're kind of a Daniel Faraday yourself. Without the beard, but you have that same gentle intelligence in your face."
"Well, Daniel was in love with Charlotte, you know." Dammit! "Love?" "Love?" Had he said that word aloud? And he was talking about two dead characters on a TV show! Letje was subtly wiping her palms on the front of her apron and breathing a little bit roughly. He kept his promise to Mikey and soldiered ahead. "Letje..." he said.
"Yes..." she slowly looked up at him and her deep breaths made her petite chest rise and fall. Her eyes met his again.
"Don't get carried away," April had advised Steve in her portion of the training. "Focus on the Christmas party."
"There's this Christmas party for work and I'm doing a show for it, and my friends think it will be kind of a big deal for me. A chance for me to get noticed by the bigwigs at Shield, you know? And I would probably make an even better impression on them if I had a beautiful date—you know, a beautiful woman like you. No, no that's not right. I don't care about the bigwigs. I would enjoy the party more if I was with a beautiful girl like you. No, no not a beautiful girl LIKE you. A beautiful girl who IS you!"
There was a single tear running down her sweet cheek, and more welling up in her eyes. "You called me beautiful more times in one invitation than everyone has in every other moment in my life combined. I would really like to go to that party with you!" She wiped her eyes with a bar napkin.
"Great...Um can I have your number?" He got out his cell phone, the one that never seemed to ring, and offered it to her so that she could punch in the number. She shook her head and smiled. She wrote her number on his palm with a black Sharpie marker from her apron. He swelled slightly at her touch. He turned to Ollie and Gretchen and smiled. He turned back to Letje to say goodbye. She kissed him lightly on the cheek and went quickly back into the kitchen. He looked at his palm, and immediately punched the number into his phone before his sweat washed it away. He walked out the door and into the bright winter afternoon. He paused to look back into the window and saw Letje running out from the kitchen and into her tall cousin's arms. The two girls hopped about excitedly and did not see Ollie clap his hands together and glance toward the heavens in grateful celebration.
Steve walked the mile home on a December Wisconsin afternoon. He didn't even realize he had left his jacket, keys and car at Triple V's until he tried to open his apartment door. He wondered how he could retrieve the jacket without looking like a fool, but his wingman pulled up to the curb and tooted the horn. "I guess you'll need a ride back to get your own car," Steve said to Ollie.
"That's the plan, Sexy Steve!"
Mikey had been right. Ollie really was TOP GUN material. "YOU!" Steve did his best Iceman impersonation. "YOU… can be my wingman anytime."
"Bullshit!" Ollie gave his best toothy Maverick grin. "You can be mine!"
Steve had his head held high as he walked into the ballroom with Letje on his arm. He tried to play it cool, but he couldn't help smiling. Brigid and April had told him how they talked her into wearing a tight-fitting spaghetti strap dress. Letje, long uncomfortable about her rail-thin form, had protested that she was too skinny to go with the form-fitting green sequined number. She was a smart girl, but Steve saw she was totally wrong about the way she would look. He had always thought she was beautiful, but with the dress and her gorgeous red hair up on top of her head, she became a creature of elegance. "Guys are checking you out!" he whispered to her. He wasn't exaggerating.
"Why?" she asked, "Do I stand out? I told Gretchen I had no idea what to wear to this kind of thing!"
"You stand out," he said, "as the very picture of slender grace."
"Don't tease me!" she said and blushed.
"I wouldn't even know how to tease a beautiful girl," he confessed. He escorted her across the crowded room to a table near the stage. He and his friends had preferred seating since Steve was going to run his show after dinner.
"These are all the fatcats!" Letje said as she looked around at the tables in their section. She smiled at him. "Wow! This is the crowd that lives out on Frerik Road. I ran a paper route out there when I was little. Big bucks." She squeezed his upper arm for support as she realized she was going to be hobnobbing with hoi polloi.
Steve saw Mikey's jaw drop a bit as he took in Letje. The big man gave a light backhand to Ollie's triceps and Ollie turned. A smile lit up his whole face, "Hubba-hubba!" he said. Letje blushed and looked up at Steve. He laughed softly.
"I'm with the girl who gets a hubba-hubba!" Steve thought.
April and Brigid looked up as well.
"I told ya, Apricot," Brigid said.
"I told YOU. Put a girl with her body into a tight dress and the dress automatically becomes 'a slinky little number.'"
"Slinky." Steve liked that word. Dinner was absolutely delightful, but Steve barely touched his food. Letje asked if he was nervous about the presentation. He was far too wrapped up in the feelings he had for his gorgeous date to be nervous about his little show. The butterflies her every little smile and glance gave him were keeping him from being able to do more than pick at his meal. But he pretended that it was actually the presentation that had him flustered. "If she knew how fast and hard I am falling for her, she'd probably make a mad dash for the exit!" he thought.
When time came for his big moment, Letje gave him a peck on the cheek and a squeeze of his hand. It was like a supercharger to his soul. "My friends," he said confidently as he took the microphone. "This is a tribute to Christmas—or whichever winter holiday you choose to celebrate—to our lovely little town of Wanowee, and to the men and women who make Shield a vital and thriving force in our nation's economy." He turned and gave a nod to the President's Table, and with a deep breath he clicked the mouse.
The ballroom went dark for a moment, and then as Laura Sullivan's mellow version of "Simple Gifts" gently caressed the ear, Steve's slide show of gorgeous winter photographs (many of them April’s) of Wanowee lit up the screen. Many members of the audience saw the town in a whole new way, much as Steve had begun to see it since he found Letje. Their "boring little town" became a place of magical Old World charm and warmth. As the strains of the heartfelt Shaker hymn faded, the almost obligatory guitar-rock of Trans-Siberian Orchestra filled the room. While the screen flashed a series of candids he had taken at Shield, the Christmas light show began. The lights were just a grander version of what he had done in underwriting, but the addition of the photos made everyone from Shield feel like they were part of the show. When the TSO number ended, Steve set a series of final video clips, well-edited to give the appearance of a long tracking shot, to "Open Door," by Bragh Adair—a beautiful Celtic track Brigid had recommended. The piece looked as if it started in the center of the building and pulled back through the offices and down the driveway to the snow-covered boulder with the company's giant shield attached. At the final fade, Steve was taken aback by the roar of approval from the room. The ballroom's lights came up to reveal that he was the recipient of a heartfelt standing ovation.
He walked off the stage and into an ardent embrace from Letje. His friends soon joined in, wrapping their arms around the two of them and forcing them tightly together. "This," he thought, "must be what a great day feels like!"
For the rest of the evening, Steve got congratulatory handshakes from co-workers and executives he didn't even know. Everything was going so well that he barely even had time to do the thing he considered most important, lavish attention on his lovely Letje. She remained at his side, introducing herself over and over again and glad-handing strangers. Steve even noticed that she managed to adroitly handle Mr. Vander Zanden when the drunken Senior VP of Nearly Everything got a little "handsy." All this couldn't have been easy for someone as shy as her, and Steve admired her all the more for her composure in this situation. She was not going to place demands on him and spoil his big night. He was as happy as he'd ever been.
Then Jerry showed up. Ever since his sudden emergence from the cocoon of silence that had made him Scary Steve, the shy man had found that Jerry and his cronies singled him out for bad treatment. No doubt the recent alliances he had made also helped put him squarely in harm's way. "Nice show, Poindexter! Bet you've got yourself a big chubby over it. You think this is exciting, you should try getting laid sometime!"
"What's making you think he's not going to?" It was Letje!
"Oh, so you're nailing the skinny little Townie fry cook, huh? Tell me, does she smell like grease all over?"
Steve hadn't hit anyone since second grade, but he was certain he was about to try. Just then an authoritative baritone voice cut in. Brigid and April were each hanging on an arm of the Corporate President and had just squired him over to meet Steve. Ollie and Mikey trailed behind, enjoying the moment. "Excuse me, gentlemen! Sorry to interrupt." He let go of the young ladies and draped a left arm over Jerry's shoulder and extended his right to Steve. "Steve Newton, right?"
"Pleasure to meet you, son. I was really impressed. Really impressed. I don't want to take you away from your beautiful young friend here, but I'd like to talk to you about a little team I'm putting together to move Shield into the 21st Century tech and media-wise. Tuesday morning, my office? Talk to Noreen, she'll get you a timeslot.”
“May I bring April with me, sir? She really helped with the photos and the artistic side of things.”
“By all means. Technology is a vehicle for art, not the source of it. We should have an artist on the team. Now, I'm sorry, but I just have to ask this stunning young lady her name."
"Letje Vander Voot."
"Letje...charming. One of Peter's girls?"
"Ah, you're Karl's daughter!" he took her hand and kissed it gently, then held it for a second, gazing into her eyes. "Absolutely charming." He turned to Jerry, still under his left arm. "Now, I remember you from the golf course. Jerry, right?"
"You're great with names, Mr. Hengeveld."
"No shit. A corporate president with business skills? Who would have thought?"
"Right, Mr. Hengeveld."
Hengeveld wasn't quite sure what he had interrupted, but he was too sharp a man to think Jerry had been up to any good. He gave Jerry a cold stare for a second, making a mental note. "Ladies!" he declared at last. April and Brigid each took an arm, "The bar awaits!"
"Fuck you and your skinny whore!" Jerry hissed at Steve but walked quickly away. He knew Mikey would have Steve’s back.
“Skardowski!” Hengeveld called.
Mikey broke off his move toward Jerry and Teddy. “Yes, sir?” Mikey said as he approached the big boss.
“You’re an honest young man from all accounts. If I interviewed a few of your cohort on Monday morning would I find ample evidence to convince me that my company would be a happier place if those two assholes were no longer part of it?”
“You might at that, sir.”
“This is a place of business, not a god-damned junior high. I’d like you three and what’s his name…?”
“Oliver Blaine, sir?” Brigid said, blushing slightly.
“Yes, I’d like to see the four of you in my office at 8 AM Monday morning for that discussion. Specifics would be appreciated.”
“Yes, sir!” the trio agreed.
Steve had started after Jerry, but had Ollie caught him. "Steve! Steve! Listen to your wingman. Turn around and look at Letje." Steve turned to her and saw fear in her eyes. "Now do you want to be busting knuckles with Jerry or do you want your hands to be holding her?"
"I've never wanted to be anyplace more than I want to be with her right now!" Letje's response was a warm, wet kiss.
Mikey felt bad about interrupting the moment, but he whispered the news of Jerry and Teddy’s fate in Steve’s ear as April did the same for Letje. April whispered a little something extra. “Make your move, girl!” she said.
Letje took a breath and gathered her courage. "Take me home, please, Steve," she said. It was the first thing she had ever asked of him. How could he refuse her? They were gone within two minutes.
Steve had decided he was definitely going to make his big move. Yes sir, he was going to shoot for a proper good night kiss at the door. But when he leaned in, Letje stopped him. "I think it's a schnapps night," she said. "Join me?" She offered him the keys, and he opened the door for her.
"I am the keymaster," he quoted. "Are you the gatekeeper?" Immediately he regretted such an overt sexual reference. He was not going to push his luck with the best thing he had ever had.
"I love GHOSTBUSTERS," she said with a smile that let him off the hook. She took him by the hand and led him inside. They shed their winter coats and Letje motioned that he should give her his suit jacket as well. "I'll get a hanger. Have a seat in the living room." She disappeared into the bedroom and was gone for much longer than Steve expected. He decided to go ahead and sit on the couch, giving her the option of sitting in the chair or joining him—wingman Ollie’s advice again.
She emerged from the bedroom in an entirely different outfit, pajama pants and a light blue t-shirt. Her hair was down around her shoulders. Steve realized that he had never seen her hair completely released. At Triple V's it was always tied back for kitchen work. At the party it had been up. Now, he got to see her glorious mane of shining hair loosed. "Wow!" he gasped. She looked puzzled, and checked her clothes for something out of place. "Your hair," he said. "It's amazing!" Her blush was easy to see on her fair skin. But that isn't what struck Steve the most. She was clearly bra-less beneath her shirt, and her nipples definitely responded to his longing gaze.
She stopped in mid-stride. She had been heading to the cabinet for schnapps, but instead turned and knelt on the couch next to Steve. She cuddled in next to him. "Steve, I have to ask you something."
"The way you say my name… wow! Steve, I don't want to sound cloying, but I need to know. Is this just a wonderful night with a wonderful man, or is it the start of something you'd like to see go somewhere?"
His friends had told him not to get carried away, but he couldn't answer Letje with anything short of the truth. "I-I'd hoped that—"
"Wait! It's not fair to ask that of you without my being honest first.” She paused for a moment and took both his hands in hers. “I'm yours tonight either way."
Steve was blown away. She was HIS? This beautiful girl was his? After 24 years of being lonely and frustrated, he was going to make love to this angel? He could scarcely gather his wits to speak. When words finally started to come out of his mouth, the landslide he had feared began. "Being with you has been my dream—my only real dream—since the first day I saw you. And then I met you and you were even more wonderful and bright and funny than I ever could have hoped. I think I'm falling in love with you."
Letje stiffened and drew back. He had gone too far. "Really?" she whispered. He swallowed hard and nodded. "I've already fallen," she said and kissed him on the lips. He reached to put his arms around her thin body, but she stood up and extended her hand. "Steve, I want you to come to my bed." She didn't ask things of him very often, but they sure were things he was glad to do for her.
She led him to the bed and curled up next to him, removing his tie and slowly unbuttoning his shirt. "I have to confess," she said. "I'm not very experienced. If you want to take the lead, I'll do my best to do the things you ask for."
"Don't worry. I'm not a virgin. You won't have to be extra careful or anything. I'm just—not very experienced."
"It's okay. It doesn't bother me that you're experienced. You can teach me—"
"No. I am...a virgin."
"Oh...I thought you meant that... Look, if you think we're going too fast, we can wait."
"No. No, never too fast with you. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known. I want to. I want you."
They kissed gently for a while. "So, you've never?"
"No...maybe you can teach me."
"I'll try, but I'm not very—I had a boyfriend in Amsterdam..." Tears filled her beautiful blue eyes. "When I decided to...the few times we did it, he wanted to do some things I wasn’t ready for. He was...unkind."
"He left me one night and never came back. He said that I was...I wasn't good at it."
"How could you NOT be? You're a dream!"
"No, I'm just a skinny clumsy girl who doesn't know how to do anything."
"I never thought it would happen," Steve said. "I never thought there would be a man in this world I hated more than Jerry." A fire burned in Steve's heart. He had been a lovesick schoolboy, afraid of making a fool of himself. That was all swept away by his newfound mission. Suddenly he was a passionate warrior with a fierce desire to teach this girl something she needed to know, something she should have been told a hundred times by now. She was a goddess! "You are going to see what you really are tonight, my love! You are going to see how your beauty and your grace move a man." Through the tears his adoration of her had prompted, she saw Steve rise up over her. He pulled his shirt and t-shirt off and then stared down at her, love and desire filling his eyes.
"Oh my," she whispered at the sight of him in this mood. He sank down on her, covering her lips and neck with hot, burning kisses. With strong and certain hands he removed her t-shirt and began to kiss the sensitive nipples of her tiny breasts. "Oh my," she whispered again. He stayed on her breasts for some time. She ran her fingers through his hair for a delicious moment, but soon her own desires were enflamed to a point she had never known before. She gripped his hair tightly, desperately. His strength filled every last part of her slender body.
Steve rose to his knees. He picked his lover up from the bed and she clutched him passionately, wrapping her legs around the backs of his. She pressed her ear to his chest, listening to his pounding heart and deep, fierce breathing. He buried his head in her hair and kissed the top of her head over and over. "Letje," he said her name aloud in the voice that had made others sigh just at the way he spoke it. "Letje, Letje."
He pushed her firmly back onto the bed and removed his trousers and briefs. He quickly stood and pulled the socks and shoes from his feet. She saw his full manhood and gasped in anticipation. He pulled her pajama bottoms away and revealed her neatly trimmed womanhood. He ran his hands up the inside of her thighs, stopping just short of her tempting labia each time. She rose from the hips and tried to reach his thumbs with her eager body.
"You are the one," she said. "You are the sweet lover I have dreamed would someday find his way to my bed." She waited for him to sink on top of her, but he didn't. She gazed up in fear that his timid ways had returned. One look at his eyes assured her that her fears were groundless. There was a fire inside this man.
Steve slid his surprisingly strong hands beneath her tiny bottom and pulled her down to the end of the bed. He knelt before her and began to kiss her exposed sex. Gone were the last traces of doubt that Steve was going to see this through to the end. He was hungry in the way he attacked her womanhood. He had never known that loving a woman could eradicate his fear in the way it had. He had doubted that he could please a woman, but now he knew that he could. His beautiful Letje writhed in ecstasy as he tasted her and he knew he would never tire of this act. His tongue darted in and out of her. His fingers found a home inside of her warmth. He settled his mouth on her delicate stem and poured his love onto her most sensitive place.
Letje had never felt such passionate kisses against her sex. No finger had ever touched her with such certainty and strength. She felt like she was being taken, but she also felt as if she was being worshipped. He lost none of his strength in kneeling before her and tending to her. He only grew in her eyes. She had never had a man bring her to her ultimate pleasure, but knew that he was about to. Her thighs embraced the sides of his head. Her fingers wrapped themselves in his hair. Her body produced more wetness than it had ever before. On the rare occasions her former lover had performed this act, it had seemed a chore to be completed before moving on to what he wanted to do. With Steve, it was obvious that it was an act of love and desire. With a soft cry, she experienced her climax. It moved her to call his name as if he was the only thing that had ever mattered to her.
Steve rose and stood over her. Her slender body was pink with the warmth of lovemaking. Her red hair was spilled around her, creating an aura about her angelic face. “Every day,” he said to her, “I will love you more than the day before. You are my one true love.”
She threw her legs wide and slid them around him, urging him to take her. He slid himself slowly but firmly into her. He paused for a moment, allowing the warmth of her passionate acceptance to embrace every fiber of his being. There was strength in her legs and in the way her womanhood clutched him tightly, but her channel was also pliant and urged him not to be captured but instead to move freely within her. Never in his life had Steve felt so powerful. He swung his hips back and forth, each moment and sensation new to him; each moment and sensation adding to his newfound strength; each moment and sensation driving him deeper into his resolve to be the lover she deserved.
Steve used every muscle in his body to make his strokes deep and meaningful. He was silent for the most part, but every time he moved his brain screamed out that he must try even harder to please her. This was his mission now, his reason for being. Letje had been wronged by a world that did not see her for the beauty she was. He would make amends for the world. He had felt like a boy only a week ago, now he knew he would be a man, because no mere boy could show her what she needed to know. Words, maybe clumsy words, began to spill from him. “You are everything a woman should be,” he cried as he drove as deeply into her as he could. Each thrust and withdrawal spurred him to speak. “You are beautiful… you are brilliant… you are sexy… you are the soul of passion… you are my angel… my goddess… my love.” Then his slow powerful thrusts yielded to a desperate frenzy of motion. He snatched her legs up in front of him and bucked into her, his passions no longer under the control of his will.
And the way she responded was equally frenzied. She reached her sex toward him. She clutched at the sheets for a time and then snatched the pillow and bit it to muffle her moans and passionate gasps. She had never been this vocal with her old lover, but he had never been so passionate, so concerned with fulfilling her desires. She was embarrassed to make such sounds until she thought of the passion which Steve was investing in their lovemaking. There could be no shame here, only love and acceptance.
Finally, she flung the pillow away and let her sounds fill the room as the kind and gentle lover she had chosen became something more than she had dreamed. He seemed part machine, mercilessly bringing her body to new heights of pleasure without pause between the rises and swells. He seemed part animal, slaking his carnal hunger with her flesh. Yet, at her very core she knew she was safer than she had ever been in her life. The machine, the animal, they were hers... not assailants, but protectors enslaved by her charms.
The woman beneath Steve was his. She was the flesh that satisfied his animal hunger and the fuel that drove the machine he had become. She was all he could see, all he could think of, all he could dream. And she celebrated his lovemaking with such wonderful cries of ecstasy that she made him feel invincible. He thrilled to the sight of her reaching down and touching herself while he continued his lovemaking to her. He had not seen her face before when she had climaxed. Now he watched in wonder as she scaled the heights of passion a second time. When her womanhood gushed forth with a dam-burst of sexual release, her screams swelled in his ears like the crescendo at the end of a symphonic movement. As her screams faded away, he answered with a final note of his own. A deep rumbling sound that rose from deep in his chest and announced his arrival at the threshold of pleasure. He had filled her with his hardness, seeking to give her pleasure; now he filled her with a soft warmth symbolic of his own pleasure.
He lowered her to the bed and took his rightful place next to her. Both shy lovers struggled for the right words, but settled with an honest declaration of what they felt at the moment.
"Because of you, Steve… I believe. I believe I am a beautiful and sexy woman. Steve, I am your beautiful and sexy woman."
"You helped me discover that I am a fierce and passionate man," he said. "And I am yours, Letje."
The way he spoke her name made her sigh.
Farewell from the little town of Wanowee, Wisconsin my friends. Thank you for visiting. Be you a fierce and passionate man or a beautiful and sexy woman, live well and love well.
Read 10797 times | Rated 96.1 (127 votes)
Please rate this text: