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From: El Sol <munster@eden.rutgers.edu>
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Subject: {ASSM} The Return of Dacia By ElSol (MF, Hetero)
Date: Fri, 27 Jun 2003 22:10:02 -0400
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<1st attachment, "thereturn" begin>
Author's Note; This was edited by Consonant Smile. It is the first
complete piece I've done in years. Please note: This email address is
ignored if you want to write me please do so at my other email adress;
munster (at) remus.rutgers.edu
The Return of Dacia
By ElSol
Dedicated to Dacia
----
The only difference between the white haired men with blank stares
and me was a single song lyric. I had been riding the train into the city
for eighteen months and five days to do a job that was just a job. I was a
technical consultant, pimped out by a staffing firm over three to six
month contracts to companies needing an extra pair of hands. The city was
where I was in demand, so I got used to catching a 6:30am train, being at
work exactly 8 1/2 hours and catching the 4:27pm train to what I called
home.
An old man with white fringe crowning his head, showed me how to
do the commute. He had a blank stare that saw nothing even while I
fidgeted in front of his eyes; he was in snooze mode. On that eighth trip
into the city I spent the hour subtly trying to fill some of the emptiness
in him. He was thoroughly programmed however and it did not work. The next
morning I looked into the eyes of other passengers separating those with
years of experience and those with something else. Some people rode the
train with sleep in their eyes while others had the excitement of ambition
working on them like an amphetamine giving them a false look of
wakefulness. The old man rode it with only the awareness necessary to hit
snooze.
6:00 am get out of bed, hit snooze.
6:12 am start the car, hit snooze.
6:27 am get on the train, hit snooze.
6:35 am put the train pass away, hit snooze.
7:19 am get off the train, hit snooze.
7:26 am wake up at the sound of the one-serving coffee machine.
From that day on, I spent the hour and a half to my cup of coffee
trying to push aside a song lyric that desperately held on to something
else.
I hated the Barry Manilow mornings. It would have been better if
it were the whole song that played in my head during the commute. Life
does not like train riders that much though.
I do not know many times I sang: 'And I need you today, oh Mandy"
in an hour. It was more than 'I write the songs that make the young girls
cry'. The worst was "Copacabana", an hour of 'But just who shot who?' or
'She would meringue and do the cha-cha' was mind numbing. Even for "Copa"
there were layers of worse and worser; the master of evil mornings was
'Her name was Lola'. Not even a complete lyric, it made the hour seem
endless and had me wishing to be an old white haired man that disliked
work holidays because it separated him from the comfort of routine.
On the fifth morning of the nineteenth month, I had a master
"Copacabana" morning; I had introduced Lola several hundred times when the
train made the next to last stop. I noticed it, hoping it would stop me
from joining Lola as she lost her mind. Healthy, happy women entered the
train car; I needed someone other than Lola to be real for a few seconds
so I watched them from the corner of my eye.
It did not work and as the train pulled away Barry worked his
magic on my mind.
"Her name was Lola"
"Her name was Lola"
"Her name was Lola"
"Her name was Lola"
"She was a showgirl"
"With yellow feathers in her hair,"
"And a dress cut down to there."
Something was different but my mind was too somnolent to stop.
"She would meringue"
"And do the cha-cha"
It was the cha-cha that broke through the drill that was as
mindless as that got the old men to work. I did not say cha-cha like that.
The word had been sung with the heaviness of the beat of two hard thrusts
into a woman. Her perfume poured in through my nose, much stronger than
the coffee smell that stopped the song lyric every morning. It felt like
my soul had been dropped from the top of a skyscraper sailing, falling and
impacting on my corpse lying on the sidewalk.
"AAAARRRGGHH!!"
It was the fear of waking up from a falling dream; the other
passengers did not hear it but I did as the two parts of me slammed
together.
I turned my head.
She drowned me in the embrace. The force of her kiss helped
reconcile my soul with my body. Even as my hand went up to grab her hair,
I knew her ass was swaying, tempting even the old men to taste her youth
by giving it the pat it had been made for.
I was waking up rapidly but not fast enough to catch her as she
pulled away.
"Now that was something I missed while I was out trying to be a
star," she said.
She gave me the smile that I had hoped was only mine. She brought
her lips back to me. It was a soft kiss less than the ones she once woke
me with, but more than any we had ever shared before.
She smiled at me again before she joined the flock of healthy,
happy women. I heard the questions they asked her about me. I was a nobody
who rode the 6:30 am train waiting to be an old man with a blank stare.
"...because he fucked me like an unbroken stallion!" she said loud
enough to make everyone on the train take notice of me. "And he had the
cock to do it with. Plus, if you hear him on his guitar, you'll know
you've arrived."
The old woman across from me smiled at the faint memory of being
young.
"They were young and they had each other, who could ask for more?"
I whispered.
That was Dacia.
-----
I was on the next to last week of a four month assignment to help
a company do a full desktop and domain rollover. It had taken a month to
get off the ground because they had not thought things through nor had
they done the proper testing. I helped enormously during the early growing
pains and my two co-consultants thought an offer of permanency was coming.
We used a windowless room by the wiring cabinet and freight
elevator as our workspace. We had developed a system to get the work done
efficiently. The first two days of the week were for building the
machines, installing software and moving people that only needed to be
pointed to the new domain. The next two days were spent stroking the time
out of the people we needed away from their desks to replace their
desktops. Fridays were reserved for massaging people over the fear of
change that came from losing the comfort of habit.
I was 35 minutes early every morning but on Fridays I usually had
nothing to do. I did not need coffee or want to read my mail that morning
so my co-workers were surprised that I had started the first set of
automated builds for our last week. I got the seating map out and looked
to pin down where the last people we would be pointing to the new domain
sat.
One of our guys followed me out to the office space. They were
computer geeks, so to speak, and were not used to working in a place where
more than half the population was female. Since this contract was with a
music conglomerate, it made it even more different than usual.
These people were hip.
They all listened to different music with the only commonality
seeming to be that there was no mainstream/pop music. We would go from an
office with African drums, to one with hard rap, to another with jazz
cooling the room. Most of the people wanted to spend the five minutes it
took to retrieve the information we needed from their desktop getting to
know us. The women seemed to enjoy the small beads of sweat they could
produce from the guys' brows with even the mildest of flirtations.
The guys fostered an air of aloofness towards me reserved for
middle and upper level managers and maintained a distance from me while
with the company employees; this was done to insulate them from the real
managers. I had worked with both of them before so we worked out a
standing agreement regarding our tenure. They went out to lunch while I
dealt with the socially uncomfortable situations; talking to the managers,
finessing the rude employees, and communicating with the painfully pretty
ones.
The smaller departments had been left for the end of our
contracted stay so the last two weeks were moving slowly. The guys had a
desperate air of wanting to take advantage of working with the type of
women who in high school never gave them the time of day. They wanted to
spend their money on something other than a car, like a woman. The boys
never stopped wishing that they had been the chick-magnet type guy in high
school as opposed to being the geek with another new computer part for the
techie pissing contest. I did my part by revisiting two of the women who
had taken an interest in them; it took only a couple of nudges before both
guys asked their ladies out to a luncheon foursome.
We sat in our closet trying to solve some of the loose ends that
had to be tied up that morning until the ladies came by to be fed. The
ladies and I smiled as the guys broke out into fretful nervousness. The
ladies had done well with what they had in the office to look good for an
unexpected opportunity. The guys noticed them only at a visceral level and
were just too inexperienced to hide their reaction. The ladies liked the
widening of the eyes, the catch in their breathing, the heated excitement,
and even their erect posture. I waved goodbye knowing both guys were in
good hands.
I had gone to the deli across the street for a salad earlier and
eaten it while working. Being left alone was a necessary part of my day, I
usually only had a half-hour but I knew the ladies would do me the favor
of keeping the guys out a little later. With the taste of Dacia lingering,
I needed the extra time.
I went into the phone closet where the company tech had allowed me
to store my trunk the first day. I stored two of my guitars there; of the
two, I required my father's guitar after my unplanned reunion with Dacia.
I closed the door to the closet and set my timer for forty-five minutes of
recovering.
The first words I ever spoke were "Mi guitarra!" My mother was
trying to put me in my crib without my miniature guitar which my father
had made for me. He had been taught by his father but rarely practiced the
art. The birth of his first son and the pain of being told my mother would
not have another child drove him to find solace. He built two child's
guitars to fit my small hands in childhood and my youth as I grew and
three for when I was an adult. I kept one of my guitars in protected
storage, one in my bedroom, and one at work for my lunch practice. My
middle guitar had been destroyed in the car crash that killed my parents
and Dacia had borrowed my baby guitar and not returned it.
I had not asked for it back because I was connected to it.
I needed the timer to tell me when to stop. I had never been able
to do it on my own. I scared my mother once when I was eight. She tried to
punish me when I got lost in my guitar by taking it away from me. My two
days of not eating or drinking scared her more. My mother tried to drive
me to other things; martial arts, singing lessons, piano lessons, and
anything else that might break the hold my guitar had over me.
Nothing ever replaced my guitar.
I got up early to practice for a half-hour before I hit snooze as
an old man for the first time each day. I practiced in lieu of lunch. At
night, I practiced for an hour before my martial arts class, took a
shower, and practiced until it was time to join the old men in their empty
sleep. Practice only required a quiet room, my guitar, the music that
filled us and a timer that allowed me to let go. For the first time in
over eighteen months, Dacia danced among us.
-----
I met Dacia in college.
I was scheduled to start school earlier than I did but the death
of my parents delayed it. The trucking company allowed a driver waiting
for his day in court on a second DUI charge to get behind the wheel and
kill my parents. I sued them. It took a third arrest for DUI, this time
without a driver's license before my lawyers could show the employer the
error of their ways. They pushed me to settle and after some delay I
agreed to it. The money was there for me to go to college but the
distractions of their deaths and the aftermath gave me an excuse to do
what I really wanted, travel with my guitar. There was no reason for me
not to go to college but I managed it for three years nonetheless.
During my senior year I lived on the same dormitory floor as
Dacia. We did not get to know each other until the last couple of months
in school. A couple of her friends were pursuing music majors and they
participated in one of the formal practice sessions for our senior
presentations. She mistook me for a spectator and started talking about
the performers. Since I was also a computer major it was easy to foster
the illusion that I was just there to observe. I was taking a surprising
degree of pleasure from listening to her make fun of the people around us
when they called my name. Her eyes widened and her face colored
beautifully as she was alarmed that she may have made an offensive comment
about one of my friends.
The silence of desire around the auditorium assured her that no
one there was my friend.
I used my father's guitar for my senior presentation; it was the
first time I had ever I presented with it in public. The piece was written
by grandfather in honor of my grandmother; he never finished it. I had
spent years trying to complete it but it still felt unfinished. However, I
thought it was appropriate since my grandmother never got to hear it.
My fellow majors and the professors sat quietly to listen. My
grandfather lacked the talent for the piece but he was inspired by love to
write it. I lacked the love but had talent enough to fill the room with
the desire of my rivals to be an equal. College had nothing to teach me
about my guitar or the music but I went through the motions so I could
fulfill my mother's last attempt to break the hold.
I smiled as I aimed the notes that sang of my grandmother at
Dacia. The music was for her and the piece was somehow less incomplete.
"You did that for me!" she said running up as I walked out of the
building.
I turned to look at her. I nodded as I looked into warm
brown/green eyes.
"Doesn't that mean I should do something for you?"
"You don't have to." I replied smiling.
"How about I make you a meal in the dorm's kitchen?"
"Can you cook?"
She posed for me by putting her hands on her hips and pushing her
dramatically sized bosom at me.
"What do you think?"
"I like breasts."
I was more surprised than she was that I had said it. I blushed
and she broke out into laughter. She put her arm through mine and dragged
me towards the bus stop.
We fucked all night.
That was Dacia and I.
-----
I was a half-hour from clocking out when I noticed the buzz coming
from the guys was different than the usual Friday afternoon excitement. I
turned around to find the room filling with healthy, happy women lead by
Dacia.
"Hey baby, I thought you'd like to go out," she said to me.
The girls were dressed up to fulfill every male's fantasy of women
wanting an evening of romance. They had taken the time to remove excess
makeup but were still wearing the clothes from their modeling shoot. The
guys were staring and I observed several of the company's employees
attempting to be discrete as they passed our door trying to figure out why
models were walking into the geek closet.
A blonde with waist length hair was measuring me carefully. I
stared back at her and raised an eyebrow. She smiled smugly to let me know
I had not been found wanting. Dacia looked from the blonde to me and
smiled at both of us. Dacia was basically straight but liked the
occasional female to add spice to her love life. The other women were too
busy teasing the nearly quivering guys to notice the tri-play.
"What do you want to do?" I asked. I did not bother asking how she
knew where I would be; Dacia got her way and other people got out of it.
"The photographer invited us to this little place and I figured
you and the boys wouldn't mind being our dates."
Dacia was up to something but I had never been able to control her
from our first night together. I would not even try now.
"The guys don't get off until six."
"That's kind of early to get off isn't it?" Dacia asked with
mischief blazing out of her eyes. The guys blushed bright red especially
when model hands began to touch their arms and chest in seemingly
innocent, friendly pats. The invitation in the touches was not lost on the
boys.
"We can wait in the bar across the street." the blonde with eyes
for me suggested. The women nodded and started to walk out of the room
with more than the necessary sway in their hips to give the guys one last
zinger.
"Bring your guitar." Dacia said as she walked out with a sway that
put the others to shame.
It took fifteen minutes for the guys to recover. Michael went out
on the floor and returned with an unhappy look on his face. John was
smiling ear to ear and looked like he was going to be useless for the rest
of our time at work.
"David, I don't think I can go to this thing." Michael said
quietly.
John and I spun our chairs to face him.
"Dude, swimsuit models asked us to take them out and you're not
going? Are you fucking nuts?" John exclaimed.
Michael shrugged his shoulders.
"Ask Lydia to come with us." I suggested.
Lydia was the Latin curveball in Michael's life. She was five feet
of plump curves and something in her smile affected Michael deeply.
Neither realized there was more to her smile when he was around. Michael
could be a prototype for a spy novel hero five foot nine, sandy brown
hair, non-descript blue eyes, and facial features that blended together
into plainness. The only time he ever seemed more than normal was when
Lydia smiled at him.
I smiled at him.
"She'll like that you turned down the chance to hang out with some
hot, California swimsuit sluts to be with her."
"They're not sluts." Michael said angrily. John and I looked at
each other and smiled widely. Michael was already in Lydia's panties.
"She likes you, Michael. They're sluts." I said before I turned
back to my monitor.
Fifteen minutes and Dacia had me getting involved.
-----
We fucked all night.
She was leaving in the morning having decided California was where
she could make her dreams come true. She had it all mapped out; swimsuit,
fitness model for a few years, B-movie actress, B-movie director, B-movie
maker, and finally owning her own B-movie studio.
I asked her again as she lay wriggling on top of me what was the
point of dreaming about making straight to tape movies or late night cable
skin flicks.
She moved down my body and lapped at my dick. It was sticky with
our combined juices. She savored the taste of our mingled essence. Dacia
took her time moving me around with her hand to make sure she licked me
clean. She moved lower to lick my balls clean also. The woman took each
into her mouth to suck the last touch of flavor from them. She moved to
the area around my genitals hunting for more of what we had given each
other.
Dacia moved back to my dick and took the head into her mouth. She
sucked on it while her tongue stimulated the tip. She took me completely
inside her mouth and pulled back sucking life into it. She took me
completely inside her mouth again. I grew and she adjusted so I would go
down her throat. Dacia massaged me with her mouth, tongue and throat; even
though it was the third time that night I hardened. It ached but she
coated me with saliva soothing some of the rawness away. I was too thick
and long for her to take it comfortably but she tried until I was at my
full growth.
"God! I love your cock!" she exclaimed as she pulled me out of her
mouth, lay down on my stomach, and licked the length of it on the
underside.
She kept moving up until she could kiss me. The vision reached
between her legs and settled herself on me. She wriggled her hips to seat
me deeper, pulled up a few inches and pounded herself down to get the
right fit.
Her eyes were unfocused as she looked at me. She took my face in
her hands and whispered to me.
"Not everybody can be great, David. It's going to be enough for me
to be the masturbation fantasy of a handful of pubescent boys."
She moved up my length and then slowly back down.
"I don't have it in me to be more than that."
Dacia moved up my length and slammed down. She moved her hips in a
way made for me to cum inside her. I did not want it to end fast though;
my balls ached from the pressure of wanting to spray more of myself inside
of her. I turned us over and captured her legs underneath her knees with
my arms. I rested my full weight on her. She grabbed the back of my head
and pulled me down for a kiss to drown both of us in her passion. I lost
control like I always did when she kissed me liked that.
I was not an unbroken stallion, but there is only way one to fuck
a wild mare in heat.
-----
The club the photographer had invited the girls to was a small
amateur jazz joint where people could get on stage to jam if they wanted
to. I saw a lot of instruments in the audience and recognized many of the
dreams that had not been forgotten. I looked at Dacia as someone got on
the microphone to announce that he was happy to see so many had brought
their guitars because there was going to be a friendly competition
tonight. I looked around the room the majority of the people had brought
electric like the one I carried.
Dacia walked to a little stand beside the stage to talk to a woman
taking down names on a notebook. They talked to each other and as was
Dacia's way the woman gained a new best friend while writing down my name.
I watched Dacia as she walked back to me. The blonde with the hair and
eyes stood next to me ready to referee the argument she thought was about
to happen. I did not bother arguing with Dacia, she either won or I lost
because I would have to walk away from her if I took it to the end.
The group that came with us, Lydia, her friends, the models, and
my co-workers, looked curiously at Dacia. Lydia asked her how good I was.
They were trying to tease me but Dacia told them I was the best. They
first looked at her and then at me.
"If you're lucky you might hear one person better in your
lifetime, but on my soul you won't hear two." I told them as the first set
of players got on stage.
"Why aren't you in the business then?" Lydia asked. My explicit
answer made her angry because it sounded like bragging.
She was challenging me.
"I haven't been discovered yet." I replied looking to the stage,
dismissing her.
I waited my turn knowing how it had to end. No one else here had
known their guitar before they could speak. This was fun for them, a way
to show off, maybe get laid.
No one talked to me, and then it was my time.
I sat on stage waiting for the others in my group to finish; I was
empty in a way even the old men would envy. They touched their guitars
beside me but the music did not reach me. They were weekend warriors who
said 'I have been playing for eight years' as their introduction. I did
not remember a day before I was 25 that I had not practiced more hours
than I slept.
It was my turn.
They moved the microphone in front of me and I saw Dacia moving
through the audience to stand in front of the stage. They would get know
her for what she was.
The Dealmaker's Devil-woman.
"So I guess I should start with my name like everyone else has." I
said into the mike. My voice was flat; my soul removing itself from the
places it was not needed.
"You would know me as David. But my guitar and the music gave me
another name a long time ago." I touched the strings and they sang
agreement that David was not our name. Dacia's hips had been waiting for
that first touch and swayed in counterpoint. The audience leaned forward
as the Devil-woman called them. Their eyes watched her, but their souls
opened my guitar, the music and for me.
I pulled the timer out of my pocket, set it for fifteen minutes,
and put it beside my foot. It was longer than everyone else had taken, but
they would not stop me. No one ever had.
"I was in the bayou; still teenager, barely a man." The strings
danced in memory of being younger. "I played a backwater club, a roadhouse
built of smoke and blues. Hope had never been a part of that place, but on
Friday nights the people wanted you to set them free."
It was an my electric guitar so we could wail the way we had that
night even without the others as backup. Their desire to be freed set me
loose among them and the clock ticked on. It was the first time in my life
I ever put my guitar down without the timer.
"I went there to learn or maybe because the legend of the
crossroads started there with them."
Dacia was moving, and their eyes followed her; male/female, it did
not matter. She was desire made flesh, and they wanted her to set them
free just like the hopeless ones that only had smoke and blues.
"An old woman came up to me afterwards and said 'Child, you done
remade all my heartstrings, so you could break them yourself.'"
Dacia stopped so their conscious mind could hear what I was about
to tell them.
"She sat with me that night and helped me write about her life.
Some of you might have felt a small part of her pain or her happiness but
nobody here will live it all. At least, God please, I hope you don't."
The words were barely a whisper but they had turned their eyes
from Dacia to me.
"She did not come back the next night; her daughter, an old woman
in her own right, said she did not need to anymore."
"I went down to the crossroads to meet the Dealmaker. I also met
an old woman who's life gave my guitar and the music voice enough to name
me."
My fingers stopped moving, a pause before the old woman spoke
through us again.
"She named me Stringbreaker and I give you a taste of the old
woman as a way to thank her."
Music is not well described in words, beautiful, rich, fulfilling,
majestic. A picture is worth a thousand words means that it takes a
thousand words to describe a picture. How many words would it take to
describe a feeling? A song can describe it; can make you feel it.
We told them about the pain of a girl's first time, rape, and when
he came, not believing how much she loved that child. How she was raped
again when that son was lynched by the insecurities of white men, and the
joy as a young swelling girl said he had been the father. A part of him
lived in the eyes of her great great grandchildren and she had to hold
back tears every time the light touched them the right way.
Dacia danced, a Devil-woman keeping their eyes busy so their souls
would remember an old woman who had suffered and touched happiness anyway.
Minutes of my touching the strings have been spent trying to find
the unity among my guitar, the music and who I am. Minutes of the touching
are nothing among the three of us. Minutes of the touching are trying to
hold on as we are sucked away from each other.
The timer went off and it broke through to all of us.
I put my guitar in its case and the timer in my pocket. There was
anger in the eyes of one of the men on stage as I turned to leave.
"Have you ever been happy?" I asked him.
He looked confused but nodded his head.
"When?" I asked.
"The day I married, when my baby girl came, a lot of times." he
replied.
"I gave up everything at the crossroads." I told him. "Would you?"
He shook his head and looked away.
"And you're angry: because you play your guitar and I became
mine."
I walked away from all of them.
-----
She did not need to ring the doorbell, because she had not given
back the key I gave her when she was with me. I was waiting for her,
naked on my bed.
She smiled as she walked in and took off her clothes. She did it
slowly, letting me enjoy as I watched the caresses her hands gave her body
as the clothing fell.
Dacia had changed herself a little; there were teasers to suggest
what was beneath. Her brown hair now had blonde highlights to make her
tresses seem more like a halo. The sun loved the touches of blonde when
her pictures were captured outside. I followed her career in the magazines
and the websites. The pictures of her in the fading sun were my favorite.
Her body had tightened to fill the mold of the fitness model rather than
the form of the swimsuit vamp. I liked that change greatly.
She stood in a pose that she knew I hated. Photographers liked her
with her mouth open from the start, even before she flew to California to
work. Every time I saw a picture of her like that, I wanted to make her
kneel in front of me and shove my hard cock into her mouth until I was in
her throat with her breath warming my pubic hair. She smiled at me as her
eyes dared me to do exactly that.
It had been too long for that dare to be ignored.
I surged from the bed and our lips met questing for control. She
gave ground as she had intended in the face of my hunger. I put my hands
on her shoulders and pushed down. She went willingly and I grabbed two
handfuls of her hair. She held her mouth open for me as I moved forward
with my hips. My dick knew where it had to go and it unerringly entered
her mouth. I moved my hips towards her and she accepted me into her
throat. It was not comfortable for her especially since I was harder than
I had been for a long time. However, she took it as her due, my hardness,
my need, and my fight for control to stop myself from fucking her mouth
with no thought to her.
I moved back until I was almost out of her mouth. She closed her
lips around my dickhead and used her tongue to paint it with moisture. I
moved into her slowly while she continued her efforts to lubricate me.
"I can't Dacia. I just can't." I panted as I pulled out of her
mouth.
I reached down to touch her hands and I pulled her up. I turned
her around and guided her to the bed. I pushed her upper body down on it
so that her ass was presented to me. I grabbed her ass cheeks to look at
her treasure. She was completely shaved which was another new thing. It
added throb to my cock as it waited for her warmth to surround us.
I put one foot on the bed knowing it let me thrust into her harder
and deeper than any other position. She stretched her hands above her head
and pointed her pussy at my dick begging me to take her.
I moved forward and slid to a stop partway into her. She was tight
and I knew instinctively that no man had been inside her since our last
night together. My chest swelled and my eyes lost focus at the thought.
She grunted and pushed back against me trying to get me deeper inside her.
I pulled back, grabbed her hips, and insisted that her body take me in as
I pushed into her solidly. She sighed in a small orgasm as my pubic hair
tickled her ass.
It had been too long, but the sensations of reality mirrored those
of the memories that had assaulted me during that too long. She did not
squeeze me; her body loved my length. I held inside her awaiting the
reaction her body had always given me. I pulled back on her hips to stay
seated completely in her. I could not hold out long but this was Dacia and
I knew there would be no need to.
It started with the recovery from her small orgasm as the act was
rejoined. She dropped her head to the bed and pushed her ass back at me.
It opened her the smallest bit offering up her body's last concession to
my penetration. She grunted as her body got what it craved. We stood still
for seconds as she recovered her lost breath. Her body could not take the
tension though, and she started to rock her hips up and down. It was the
motion I had been waiting for. I took my hands away from her hips and
pushed my pelvis to her preventing her from getting too much friction. She
continued the motion but the only sensation she could get was rubbing my
cockhead against the wall of her depth. She squealed as I forced her body
to remember what this did to us. Her breathing became harsh and so did
mine as the rubbing affected me like never before. She felt me expand and
harden that extra bit that screamed out how long I had been dispossessed.
She pushed back and the motion of her hips became more frantic as her
body's instincts told her we could come together.
She might have been with the blonde but I was the first cock in
her in eighteen months. The feel of her around me and her being spread for
the first time in months caused the orgasm to come to us suddenly as if it
had been building behind the dam that distance created between us.
We erupted.
My entire body clenched and I screamed from my release. At the
same moment, she cried out my name into the bed and bore down on my dick
with the all the strength of her body. It would have been painful had I
not been a steel rod of flesh inside her. She released me as her body felt
the first hot flood I ejected. Her pussy gripped me tightly again to
stimulate a second hot spraying of myself into her. She released me only
to bear down a third time, my body tried to feed her need but it felt like
I was passing lead as her pussy wrung my dick free of its cum.
We collapsed onto the floor instead of the bed. I sat on my calves
and she sat in my lap. My dick ached and her heat tried to soothe it.
We sat with her head leaning back. She was whispering words that I
did not have the strength to understand. It was a long time before she
crawled onto the bed. She lay facing me and I watched as the contented
slumber of someone who has not rested well in months washed over her. She
reached out a hand to touch my face.
"Sing me to sleep." she said as her eyes surrendered to the
security she could only get in my bed.
-----
I never liked singing. I did not have the voice strings to match
the song of the my guitar strings. It seemed a waste to add something for
people who could not hear it in the music.
My voice was smoke. My mother had loved it and fought a war
against her motherhood because of it, loving my singing while hating my
guitar. I sang in Spanish most of the time. English was for Barry Manilow
and train rides.
It felt right to sing.
Before California Dacia left in the early morning to her shoots
but the room would smell of our passion. We remembered our favorite things
in the night and early dawn.
I woke in the middle of the night. I could not see anything but my
senses recognized Dacia. She was on her back with her face to me. She was
asleep but was wriggling her body to the beat of a heated dream. I did not
wake her yet; I would not have to.
I moved to my knees and opened her legs slowly. I was so hard that
I almost believed I had been in her dream. I got between her legs and
moved my fingers to her pussy. She was wet, warm, and almost ready. Her
legs came up to spread herself for me as her body recognized on the first
touch what it was that lay in the darkness. I played a finger up and down
the valley of her lips until they thickened as the dream and the reality
danced towards each other. I grabbed a leg under her knee and pushed it
towards her chest. Her pussy spread its petals to its sun, my dick. I
grabbed myself and replaced my fingers up and down her pussy with my
dickhead. Her breathing changed as I began to play with the opening of her
body with my dick. I stroked her lips up, down, and then gave her opening
a kiss with the tip of my dick. I did this several times when on one kiss
she stabbed her hips towards me and sank my dickhead into her body. She
gasped and began to waken.
I let go of myself, pushed her other leg to her chest spreading
her pussy for my dick, and shoved into her hard as her eyes opened. Her
arms came up to wrap around my torso, she squeezed me with her arms and
pussy as her mouth opened to yell out at the sudden attack of her orgasm.
The dream had prepared her well for the reality of my plunge. She
recovered from the first desperate grasp at pleasure to scream my name as
the orgasm overwhelmed her body. I pulled back a little and pounded into
her again, sinking myself as deep into her body as physically possible.
Her eyes rolled back as a second orgasm clawed its way into her body
through the remains of the first. She lost control of her body and vocal
chords; her upper body convulsed and she grunted throughout the second
orgasm as it bathed every nerve with pleasure.
She collapsed back on the bed with eyes closed. I pulled back so
only the head of my dick was inside her. I pushed down on her legs to
spread her pussy even more and drove into her as hard as I could. She
arched her upper body in reaction and grunted my name.
It was a long, sweaty climb to my own peak.
In the morning, we showered together. I did not have to get up for
her shoot but it felt good be under the stream of hot water with her. She
washed my body with soapy hands and I returned the favor. She ended the
shower on her knees in front of me attempting to lick my dick dry. It took
only five minutes before I dragged her into the bedroom. She got on top of
me and rode us both to orgasm with just rotations of her hips.
I fell asleep minutes after her whispered goodbye.
I was singing when she walked into my bedroom with the blonde with
waist length locks trailing behind her. Since I was naked, the raised
eyebrows of the blonde came as no surprise.
"Should I dress?" I asked her.
"Not if it's going to stop what you're doing." she replied with a
smile.
I shook my head as I realized that the humor in her eyes had to be
a big reason Dacia liked her.
I started the song from the beginning. Neither understood the
words but they sat down on the floor in front of my chair to listen. I
blended it with a second song, then a third. At the end of the fourth
song, the blonde moved to take my guitar out of my hands. She passed it to
Dacia who placed it lovingly back in its case. The blonde pushed my upper
body back in the chair and moved her face to my groin. She licked up my
soft length once before putting her hands under my knees and pulling at me
to move my ass to the edge of the chair. She took my dick into her mouth
and sucked on me as if she could get her life's blood from me.
"I don't even know your name." I said as I rolled my head back.
She was better at sucking my dick than Dacia who was the best I could
imagine. I pushed my hips up and she let me lodge in her throat as I
hardened.
"Her name is Elizabeth." Dacia answered for her. My dick gave her
its own name, "Elizabeth The Great", when in record time I came down her
throat. She sucked me dry of everything I had to give and put forth a
fantastic oral argument that there should have been more. Every time I
tried to pull her off she would suck and lick just the head of my dick.
Finally, Dacia had to rescue me from her post-orgasm handling of my dick.
Elizabeth whined a complaint but Dacia's lips stopped any other
sound from escaping. Dacia searched Elizabeth's mouth diligently with her
own for any remnants of my cum. They ended up on the floor with Dacia
mounted as the search for my cum became foreplay.
I pulled Dacia from Elizabeth to whining complaints from both
women.
"Food first ladies, fucking later." They stared at me hungrily.
"Okay, a lot of fucking later."
Elizabeth was like a prism refracting the light that bounced back
and forth between Dacia and I. Elizabeth casually asked questions that
Dacia had not been able to ask in all of the two years we were together.
Elizabeth wanted to know things about people in the same way a
touchy-feely person has to touch someone. Because it was in her nature,
her questions did not feel invasive. She made me feel comfortable enough
to ask my own questions of her and Dacia.
"The old woman was raped, wasn't she?" Elizabeth's tone of voice
made it a statement not a question.
I nodded.
"Tell me about it," she whispered. Dacia looked down at her desert
plate as if she knew what this was about.
I told Elizabeth what the old woman had told me. It was in her
eyes that the pain in the music had meshed with something inside of her.
Other women had heard that particular piece before. It was as if the old
woman possessed me and in my eyes they recognized the violent identity
change a man had caused.
"It was my father." Elizabeth said after a few minutes of silence
when I finished the story.
"He got drunk one night and raped me," she whispered.
Dacia took Elizabeth's hand in her own. She described what had
happened, what it had felt like, how it had hurt her, how it still hurt
her.
"The worst part is I don't know if he remembers," she said looking
at me. "He has to remember raping his daughter, doesn't he?"
She cried.
I went down to the crossroads to make my deal and met an old
woman. She gave me more than a name; she put something inside me so
that women could cry.
-----
They wanted me naked in the chair, showering them with music as
they made love on my bed. Their bodies moving over each other kept me
grounded as my guitar, the music and I danced around them. It was not a
piece; the sounds came and went, ebbed and flowed, surged and retreated to
match what the women were doing on the bed.
I hoped I could remember it.
They lay on the bed watching me. Dacia had her head on Elizabeth's
belly and both pairs of eyes bored into me.
Elizabeth was the first of us to move. She reached her hand out to
me. I put my guitar in its case.
Dacia sat up but her hand moved to stroke between Elizabeth's
legs. I tried to lie down at Elizabeth's side but she put her leg below me
so that I had to get between her legs. I had been hard the entire time I
watched them love each other. Elizabeth brought her legs up to give me a
better angle. She stared at me while her hand danced down my body from my
face until she had the upper part of my dick in her hand. She smiled as
she placed me at the entrance of her body. I felt the motion of Dacia's
hand as she worked Elizabeth's clit.
"No, Dacia. I want it to be just this man." Elizabeth said and
reached down with her other hand to pull Dacia's hand away.
Dacia nodded and put her head on her arm to watch us.
Elizabeth squeezed my sides to signal she wanted me. I moved my
hips forward slowly. Her warmth surrounded me lovingly as I penetrated
with the head of my dick. I passed the entrance of her pussy and was
inches inside of her when she arched her upper body.
"Oh God, how could you live without this, Dacia." she whispered as
her hand sought out Dacia. I felt her squeeze Dacia with her hand and me
with her pussy before I moved forward again.
Dacia used her other hand to stroke my stomach in an attempt to
soothe away the need to fuck into Elizabeth as hard as I could. Her eyes
told me Elizabeth needed a man and not the unbroken stallion Dacia
preferred. The gesture was unnecessary.
I pushed forward into Elizabeth slowly, penetrating deeper and
deeper into her. Her hands moved to grab my biceps as I filled her. She
gasped when I got as deep as her body would let me.
Dacia let go of Elizabeth's hand and maneuvered behind me. I felt
her breasts on my back and her arms come around me. She moved her hands so
that they were under Elizabeth's knees. Dacia pushed Elizabeth's legs up
and then down towards her chest. She used her body to force me closer to
Elizabeth to take the room she needed. She pulled away from me and rocked
Elizabeth's legs so that the angle of penetration changed. She propped
herself on Elizabeth's legs forcing her pussy to open for me. I pulled
back a little at the feel of more depth and fucked slowly into the new
space in Elizabeth's body.
Dacia had other ideas though.
As I started the stroke to claim the last of Elizabeth's pussy,
Dacia dropped as much of her weight as she could onto my ass. It forced me
to fuck into Elizabeth hard. Elizabeth arched her back again and bit her
lip. Her pussy flooded with wetness and squeezed me. Her entire body
clenched and her eyes opened to stare blankly at me. She convulsed beneath
me as the strength of her orgasm overcame her. Her pussy pulsed around my
dick as the pleasure traveled along her body.
She pulled me down for a kiss by wrapping her arms around my neck.
Our tongues danced with each other as her body came down from her
cock-induced orgasm. I moved my face away from her and felt Dacia letting
her weight off my ass. I pulled back a couple of inches and felt the
contact of Dacia's body again. She pushed at me gently with her hips. I
moved forward reclaiming the two inches from Elizabeth's body. I felt the
push at my ass release again. I pulled back and at the exact same point as
before, two inches; Dacia guided me back into Elizabeth's body.
Dacia guided the fucking of her lover by controlling the length of
my strokes. She allowed me two inches in and out of Elizabeth but only in
slow strokes. Elizabeth had a small orgasm that vibrated deep inside her
body before Dacia allowed her half my length. This time Dacia made the
strokes faster by not resting at the bottom but pulling away from me
immediately. As soon as I touched her hips, she pushed on me hard
signaling me to fuck into Elizabeth hard. Elizabeth yelled both our names
after a few strokes in that manner and another orgasm flooded her body.
Dacia let me pull nearly out of Elizabeth before pushing on me slowly. The
next were long, slow, deep strokes that she commanded me to use on
Elizabeth. One orgasm was not enough like this, Dacia taught her lover how
to love a deep dicking by keeping me moving in and out of Elizabeth
through her orgasm. The motion of pulling my dick back as her body tried
to keep me in, and then pushing through the pressure of her orgasm caused
Elizabeth to stay up. She teetered on the razor's edge of another orgasm
but her body craved more than Dacia was allowing. The next orgasm was
almost in protest. She put her hands on my hips and dug her nails in.
"Now, baby." Dacia whispered into my ear as she moved beside us.
"Make her love it. Fuck her so she never forgets she's your woman too."
Her words freed me from her previous restraints. I pulled back and
fucked into Elizabeth as hard as her body allowed. She smiled up at me in
encouragement and wrapped her legs around the small of my back.
"Yes, baby! Make me yours!" Elizabeth whispered as I pulled
halfway out of her and pounded into her again. She cried out as her body
reacted to the force of my next few strokes.
I lost myself in the feeling as her womanhood took over her being.
I closed my eyes and became only the motion as my hips fucked me in and
out of her. We stood on the edge of oblivion for ten strokes before her
body felt my cock thickening. It was the signal her natural instincts had
been awaiting; ready to trigger the reserves of her body. Her mind
released the full tide of her pleasure to pound through her as I gave her
my warmth deep inside her body. She expelled a full-throated scream as her
pussy opened for me and then locked me in place. The pressure she finessed
garnered her a second shot of warmth. She screamed again as I collapsed on
to her and she wrapped her arms around me. She whispered her pleasure as
she moved her hips in a newly acquired instinct to milk my body of what
was hers by right of giving herself completely.
I lay on top of her lost to everything except the rhythm of our
breathing before what was happening below me penetrated my sexual fog. She
was crying and Dacia was holding her face. I tried to get up but
Elizabeth's grip tightened around me. I looked into her tear sheened eyes.
It was a final release.
-----
Michael was vibrating happiness on Monday morning. I smiled to
myself as he nearly bounced out of his chair when Lydia stopped by to
visit him as soon as she got in.
I was not surprised to receive an email scheduling a meeting
between the IT manager and the agent that handled me at the staffing firm.
We set up the builds that remained to be done and sat quietly listening to
the hum of spinning hard drives.
The morning commute had been strange. I had not gotten a lot of
sleep because the women had taken a late plane out. I found myself for the
second time in as many years staring out an airport window as an airplane
took off for California. There was no lyric to accompany me into the city;
there was only the passing scenery. I had stared out my window with the
same blankness that the old men stared into the space between them.
They were waiting for me at the meeting time in one of the
conference rooms. It was just before lunch so I knew they expected it to
be a quick meeting.
"Good morning, David." the agent said to me getting up from her
chair. She was a pretty blonde with a wide smile that she used like an
implement to get her 'geek' squad to see things her way. I smiled and
shook her hand. She sensed the smile did not work on me but had the
discernment to know that if she offered what I wanted I would take it.
I shook the hand of the IT manager. We sat down and they launched
right into their specifications.
"David, as you know we have an opening in our IT department and we
wanted to tender you an offer to become a permanent member of our team."
said the IT manager.
It was in his eyes, he knew I was going to refuse. He wanted me to
refuse because the people behind him wanted something else. I opened the
door for their next offer.
"I have other things I want to do, so I won't be accepting any
offers in the near future." I said quietly.
My agent's eyebrow climbed but her eyes said she was expecting it
also.
"This is the first time I've heard about you having other plans,
David." she said. She was almost believable except there was an unnatural
curiosity in her eyes.
"I was going to call you this morning but I caught a glimpse of
you earlier as you passed by, so I thought I should wait." I replied. She
nodded her head and smiled at me.
"I think you should consider Michael for the permanent position."
I told the IT manager.
"Really?" he replied.
"I have mostly been organizing the work and functioning as a
liaison. Michael has been the technical lead and was the one who fixed
most of the problems. I think he would be a better fit."
They looked at each other and nodded.
"We will definitely talk to Michael especially because he was our
second choice," he said.
"Are you ready for us?" I heard Lydia say from behind me.
I spun the chair to see her waiting at the door with an older suit
and a well-dressed Latin woman. I raised my eyebrows at Lydia.
She led her people into the room and they all sat down around the
conference table. The IT manager and my staffing agent seemed to fade
backward giving the new people the table.
"David, this is Rosalia Perez and Davis Smith." Lydia began with.
I nodded my head at both people and looked at Lydia.
"Rosalia is sort of a talent scout for our Latin music arm and
Davis oversees a lot of things for our recording labels."
It was not the best description of their jobs, but they were
already treating me like the talent.
"Rosalia and I have been friends for years. I told her about what
I heard on Friday night and we would like to hear more if you could."
"It was the blues Friday night." I said looking at Rosalia.
"You do play Latin music, right?" Rosalia said.
"I don't play my guitar." I replied. Lydia and Rosalia looked at
each other confused.
"I heard Lydia's description of your performance and I received a
call from the club owner who's a personal friend." Davis said, speaking
for the first time.
I turned to him and nodded.
"There's a certain crispness and purity to someone who has been
classically trained. You did a very serious blues number on Friday from
what I hear."
I nodded again.
"Lydia says your Latin accent comes out when you're annoyed. That
suggests to me that when you first touched your guitar, beyond a child's
plucking at strings, you learned a Latin song."
I looked at the other two and nodded at Davis.
He looked at Rosalia and Lydia who were still confused.
"Jugando means playing in Spanish, ladies. But would you ever say
"El juega su guitara."
"No," Rosalia said. "It's 'El toca su guitara.'"
"He touches his guitar." Davis said looking at me. "English does
lack a word for what a musician does with his instrument."
I smiled and so did he at the sexual pun.
"I would be interested in working with a classically trained
guitarist that can live comfortably in multiple genres." He said looking
at me seriously.
"Why?"
"Well, there is different genre albums as way to get someone who
likes you in one genre to buy another. The ability to combine such a
musician with different types of artists would be valuable. If he's
willing we might have him work with the music of other artists where it's
his guitar in the background where people don't realize why they're being
drawn closer."
I raised an eyebrow.
"You're very good." I told him.
"I'm one of the best at what I do, and I hear that might be true
about you, which is surprising."
I looked a question at him.
"Someone should have found you by now." he explained.
"I haven't been interested in being found so far."
"So what has changed?"
I smiled at him. I touched a business card in my pocket; nothing
had changed in me but a blonde had won an argument with the Fates: Clotho,
Lachesis, and Atropos.
"An accident of fate." I said, what else could the Devil-woman
betraying the Dealmaker be called. "So what do you want to do?"
"I would like to hear you." he replied.
I nodded.
"Do you sing?" Rosalia asked as I got up. Lydia left the room
before listening to the reply.
"Do you want me to?" I asked in return.
"It would make it easier to establish a very loyal Latin
audience," she told me.
"If that's what you want, then I'll sing."
I brought both my guitars and the equipment for the electric one
to the conference room. There were more people in there now. Every Latin
woman that worked in the office was in the room. I smiled at them
individually as I set up. I was already performing.
A natural curiosity for the gathering of dissimilar people took
hold of the office and the room filled even more while I set up. Once
finished I sat down in the chair and smiled at Davis.
"This is usually my practice time so it is a little more formal
and structured than an audition." I said to the audience at large. A few
people nodded at me the rest just looked curious.
I began with "Partita 2 in D Minor: Chaconne". I was a perfect
piece if Davis had ever heard someone as good. It was a piece I loved for
its simplicity, and for the complexity of patience it required. I taught
me something every time, and it was something different every time. I
loved it for what it had taught me and for what Bach had left there for me
to learn still.
Once I was finished, I put down my father's guitar and picked up
the electric. I looked at the audience but they would not understand if I
spoke; so with music I told them about an old woman's joy at the birth of
her dead son's child. They did not fully comprehend but I did not need to
give it to them in words.
I picked my father's guitar back up and smiled at Rosalia.
I did not have my grandfather's love, but he did not have my
talent with the music. He had given me his voice though; smoke, darkness,
an old man's yearning. In return, I made him real.
They were not my words. They were Dacia's who had given them to me
the first time I stood staring out an airport window at an airplane taking
her away. I had spent eighteen months shortening my grandfather's song,
adding Dacia's words, and learning to be honest when I sang them.
I sang it for them; for Rosalia, for Lydia and every other Latin
woman there. They each had a piece of what my grandfather loved in his
woman. They deserved his song, his pain at losing her, and knowing someone
could miss them like that if they were gone.
I put my father's guitar back in its case and looked at Davis. He
was looking around. A lot of the Latin women had tears in their eyes. The
other people were looking at them wanting to ask what I had said with my
song.
I picked up a piece of paper and wrote down an address.
"This is where I'll be." I said handing him a piece of paper. "I
don't want to start anything while I still work here, but we can talk next
week if you're interested."
He looked around the room one more time and stared at me.
"How did you do that?"
I looked around the room at the Latin women still staring at me.
"My grandfather loved his wife. He wrote that song while she was
on her deathbed and he was already missing her. They know he loved her,
they want someone to love them like that."
He stared at me some more and took the paper from my hand.
I put my guitars away.
-----
I liked Barry Manilow's music. He had been trying to keep me sane
those eighteen months that I rode a train into the city while I tried to
make believe I was an old man. It was why I had not needed him the last
week. I could never be one of them; I had been committed to something
else.
I did need Barry on the plane though. I boarded a 2am flight on
Saturday morning the day after the contract ended. I was excited and Barry
was riding shotgun keeping me sane again.
"I love that song!" the stewardess said. I smiled at her. She had
perfectly coiffed brown hair and bright blue eyes that said her stewardess
attitude was not faked. She probably did think it was an exciting life.
"We could sing it." I told her.
"Oh no, I couldn't!"
We were in the air long enough for those that were going to fall
asleep to have done so already. I stood up and looked around the first
class cabin. There were not many people because of the time of the flight
so we were safe.
"Come on, just once... really quietly." I whispered sinfully. She
looked reluctant but willing to play.
I started with the first part of "Copacabana". She got into it
immediately and even began to do some kind of practiced routine that said
she did love Barry. We laughed our way through the song as she continued
her dance. We finished and she told me she had performed that song at a
costume party. She had rehearsed for months, which was why she never
forgot it.
I liked her.
She moved away to make sure everyone was comfortable but promised
to return for a rousing rendition of "I Write The Songs."
I stared out the window at the dark clouds below. I considered
what had happened to me, to make me sing with an airline stewardess on an
overnight flight to California.
I had made my deal at the crossroads or perhaps my destiny had
been sealed when my father placed my baby guitar in the crib beside me.
I knew I had sold my soul, but I had been set free from the contract.
Someone had forced a new destiny for me onto the weave.
I had gone to the crossroads to talk to the Dealmaker but an old
woman blotted out a purposeless life of music few would hear by spilling
the ink of her tears on the contract. Her face could survive the burning
but the paper could not. A woman hurt beyond scarring had fought like she
could not against her father to free me from the Fates. The Dealmaker's
Devil-woman had fallen in love with the guitarist. It was not in the plan,
not a part of the path mapped out by the three goddesses.
But there it was and the Devil-woman brought the sisters to get
way.
I pulled the business card that Elizabeth had handed me before she
boarded the plane. It had their address on the back in perfect script.
"We came for you. Now come to us," she whispered in my ear before
she turned to get on the plane without looking back.
Dacia and I were who we were. We would never be able to control
what happened because I could not beg her to stay, she could not plead
with me to go with her, I could not ask if I could go with her, she could
tell me she would stay if I said the words. Elizabeth knew it and was
willing to be the one to speak all the words for both of us. It was why
Dacia loved her; it was why we needed her.
I romanticized it all but Barry whispered the truth to me as I
stared out the window.
I could not let Dacia go again.
I could not let a woman go who made me dream of running through
green fields and wild sage to the song of my music while free of
everything except her mating heat.
Dacia was not the guitar, but she was my everything else.
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