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One Night in New York City

She lied on the bed and crossed her legs. Her arms rested on both sides of her body and her eyes stared at the white, brightly lit ceiling. She wore a black, tight, net bodice, which let her full breast exposed to the eyes of people, as she never wore any brassiere. Her long legs were tightly embraced by a pair of black, net stockings and on top, a very short, leather skirt let her silver-ish underwear exposed between her crossed feet.
She waited there immobile as her crash, or better, her one-night stand, had entered the bathroom for a quick shower. On her right, on top of a wooden bedside table, rested her wine glass filled with champagne. She still hadn’t taken one sip but still she knew that by the time her lover would be off the bath she would have drunk it all. On her left, the guy’s clothes laid crumpled. A white shirt, a black pair of trousers and a black tie.

He took a look at his biceps. It had been long since he had gone to the gym at all but still, it seemed that his body was resistant to flabbiness. He turned and winked at his own reflection on the bathroom mirror as a wicked grin was engraved on his lips.
“You son of a fucking bitch. What a God fucking time you’ll get today…”
He slipped off his boxers and threw them in a wooden crate behind the bath’s curtain. Testing the water temperature, he made sure that the warmth is to his liking and stepped in the foamy bath. He had told his date that he would only have a quick shower, but that was what he always said. He knew that at some point the chick would get tired of waiting and she would come to him, right there, in the bath. It was his favourite lovemaking place.
He placed his strong arms across the bath’s edges. The foam came as high up as his chin as he rested his head back on the brilliantly white marble. He closed his eyelids and stayed there, waiting for the lass in his bedroom to grow tired of waiting.

The house was not at all cheap. There had been at least four marble statues placed in specially built displays within the walls. The floor was all made of marble and so were the majority of the furniture. It was more like a temple than a house.

More than five minutes had passed when she raised her right arm to reach for her champagne, for the first time that night. She had done this so many times that it was more like a habit lately. She never grew tired. She knew that the guy did not really need a shower and that he only stepped in the bathroom for her to follow him. It was something that rich people did often and she had grown accustomed to it.
Her sensuous, black-crayoned lips wrapped around the porcelain and a little sip of wine travelled down her throat. As she replaced the glass back on the night table, she traced the outer line of her lips with the tip of her tongue in a gesture of satisfaction. It was a very good champagne indeed. Blanc de blancs, made wholly from Chardonnay grapes. Her favourite.
“You’re gonna enjoy this night girl”, she thought as she placed her hands over her breasts, crosswise. Her head still resting on the silk pillow, her legs extending, still crossed, on the purple silky sheet. She closed her eyes and allowed her left index finger to slightly tap her right nipple twice. “You will definitely enjoy this night love”.

Men are not patient beasts. He was still lying on his back in the foamy bath but the anticipation of the woman’s elegant body against his own made him hot. He opened his eyes and scanned his immediate surroundings. He saw the mist building up in the bathroom, the plastic curtain pulled all the way open, the light coming from the next room, his own bedroom, as he had left the door open just by an inch.
On the glass below the mirror, he noticed the two red candles in their holders. He had forgotten to light them before stepping in the water but he was unwilling to do it now. He turned his head back forth and thought of the woman lying on his bed. He had noticed her full, yet firm, breasts and could not wait to get his hands on them. Silicon most definitely. Who gave a flying fuck anyhow? In the age of plastic food and manmade virtues, fake was even better than the original genuine.
His mind’s eye wondered beyond the bathroom’s door and enjoyed the view above his oversized double bed. He imagined her long legs, reaching the bottom end of the bed, the net stockings, the silver underwear, which he craved to rip, the leather skirt he wanted to lick before moving underneath, her strongly built abdominal muscles that would even make a bodybuilder blush in shame, her net top and underneath, her exposed round, full and firm breasts; her long neck, her succulent lips, her French nose, her green eyes and her long like a waterfall black hair.
He could feel it growing between his legs. He had grown impatient waiting for her but in reality, he enjoyed the anticipation. It made him hotter and hornier.

She cupped her left breast in her right palm and brought her left hand between her thighs. Slowly her fingers caressed the leather skirt about a hand below her waist. She felt it again. Like in the club, about an hour ago, when she felt an increasing desire for sex. She was as hot as at that point when she saw him and asked him to take her at his place. She knew the time was near and she could hardly wait.
She opened her eyes and sat straight on the edge of the bed. She took her black, leather purse in her lap, opened it and removed from within a little plastic, round container with a label reading: “C4H4N2O3. Mix of Urea and Malonic Acid. For use as: tranquilliser, hypnotics, anticonvulsants, anaesthetics. Restrictions: Safe to take alone. Substantial amounts taken with alcohol can lead to comma or even death. Long term administration of larger than usual doses of the benzodiazepines can cause physical dependence, with typical withdrawal symptoms ranging from nightmares to convulsions when drug intake is stopped”.
She unscrewed the cap and took a pill in her hands. Placed it between her upper and lower teeth and bit hard breaking it in two. Half the pill she swallowed and the rest she placed it on the wooden table. She took her champagne from the table and sipped it all at once.
“Comma and death my ass…”
She stood up and moved towards the bathroom’s door. Slightly pushing it open she noticed how the man in the bath had already leaned his head back and silently moaned as he was gently striking his own hard-on under the foam. Once again she traced her own lips with her wet tongue.
“Babe, you know you should have waited for me…” she said with the notion of desire drawn within her green, fluorescent eyes.

He sprung off his back and stood before her, still in the bathtub, foam and water falling down his arms, chest and legs. His hard on extending before her eyes, hard and wet with foam dripping along its length.
He didn’t want to sound as if caught by surprise and thought of something that would make things look normal without him losing the chance for an intimate night with her.
“I was thinking of you beautiful. And your figure gives me such a fucking hard on I could hardly resist. Come on babe pop in and let us enjoy the night”.

She held the empty glass between her breasts and her fingers played with it mischievously.
“Where’s the champagne gorgeous? I need some more. Let me pour another one while you light those candles there alright?”

She closed the door and headed to the kitchen in search of the bottle. He told her he had left it next to the fridge so she guessed she would find it at once. Inside the bathroom, the guy went on masturbating until he came over the sink. He believed that once a man had come, it would take him longer to come again and so he would enjoy his intercourse more.

She walked towards the bed, bare foot pressing on thick red carpet. She placed the porcelain on the bedside table and still standing, she filled it with ice-cold Champaign. The door on her left opened just as soon as she had picked up the plastic container from the wooden table.
“What the fuck is that?” he asked as he, still dripping water and foam, moved towards the second table on the other side of the bed, in search of light.
Her long fingers opened slowly the container and pulled out a single pill. Holding it between her thumb’s and her index finger’s nails, she looked at it playfully. Then she dropped it in the Champaign filled glass. Her eyes looking at him over her right arm, as he was still looking in the drawers for a lighter.

His badge with the serial number 78499, his officially issued S&W handgun, a box of extra bullets, a steel knife, two pairs of handcuffs, a whistler, a long, rubber torch and his official rubber rod. No lighter.
“Babe I can’t seem to find any light. Do you happen to have a lighter?”
She didn’t answer. She just lowered her eyes and stared at his well-shaped, tight arse. Inside her mouth, her lips slightly apart, her tongue traced the line of her teeth, on the upper jaw. Her right index finger entering and exiting the container in a slow, pumping, repetitive mode.
He lowered his back even more to look in the last drawer of the bedside table. His legs never kneeling one bit, his arse exposed and thrown out back.
“Babe. Can you hear me at all? Do you have a fucking light”?

She slowly shut her eyelids and let a silent moan as she felt her inner desires grow. She needed him. She needed him beneath her or on top of her. Never mind the position she wanted to enjoy some hard fucking.
She pulled out another pill from the container and dropped it in the glass. Opening her eyes she looked at the sparkling liquid. One more would do no harm. She pulled a third pill and fed it to the glass. Picking up the glass with her right hand, her left palm over her breast caressing her exposed skin over the net bodice, she turned and moved towards the wet man.
“Fuck the light stallion,” her eyes playful and mischievous, the words coming with a funny echo at the sound of the word stallion. “Drink this babe and let us have some fucking fun. What do you say”? Leaning over his dripping body, offering with her right hand the glass to his lips, tracing with her left hand the line of his spine down to his waist, grasping in her palm his left buttock.

He didn’t know how long it took him before coming round. Neither did he know why he was still naked and how he came to be lying on the floor. He tried to move. A metallic sound prevented him from lowering his hands from over his head, where they were cuffed around the bottom of one of his marble statues. He looked up. His vision was blurred. Looking down, he could see his own erection rising between his thighs, his legs spread apart and tied at the height of the Achilles tendon with long pieces of rope, away one from the other.
How long had he been knocked out? The last think he could recall was that gothic lass striking his erection before her eyes. He could even remember himself about to come. Did he come? He did not remember his juices on her face. But why did he still have a hard on? Could it be that he only passed out for a couple of seconds? But if that was the case, how was it that he was tied up and unable to move? And where the fuck was that gothic bitch?
He leaned his head back on the thick carpet. He felt numb, except for the erection he felt extremely numb. His vision was still not a hundred per cent clear so he decided to lay down until he could gather his last recollections.
He remembered going out last night with his fellow officers from the department. Was it yesterday though? He had lost track of time. He could remember having fun with his friends from the NYPD when a gorgeous, virtually naked girl came close and blew him a deep French kiss. He remembered his friends shouting and joking teasingly. He even remembered some of them grasping her tight ass from behind while she was kissing him. Fuck, he could still feel her hard nipples pressing against his chest just before that jerk of an officer, his back-up unit, pulled her off him and dig his face in her large breasts while she still laughed horny.
Imagine their reaction if they could see him now. Cuffed on one of his statues, his legs spread apart and his own erection never withering.

“So you decided to join us then officer?”
Her voice came from behind him as she walked past him and towards the bed. She climbed on the soft mattress, left leg first, falling on all four, her round tight arse staring back at him just before she fell and lied on the silk sheet.
“You’ve been away for almost a day now babe. Hope you don’t mind I took a little bit advantage of you, do you? I know you will most probably have felt nothing but even so your little guy there kept fucking me, time after time, for over six hours now. That’s why you will find it difficult now to lose your erection. Poor guy has swollen with blood flow. It will take some time before you go back to normal.”
His mind was still trying to sort his thoughts. It was not easy as what he was hearing made no sense to him. Had he been knocked out for a day? Had he really fucked this woman? He could remember nothing of all of this. He tried to raise his head and take a look at her. He felt dizzy. Sick. He returned his head back on the floor and decided to remain there until he would feel better. Listening to what she was saying.
“I have to say I didn’t believe three pills would knock you out cold. Still, and most fortunately, your dick still worked just fine so I can’t complain. Not for this matter anyway.”
She brought her back against the wall and looked down on him. She had removed the net bodice. Still her breasts pointed forward hard. Unmovable. As if made of stone. Silicon for that matter.
She placed a rolled smoke between her lips and lit it. The smoke travelled over her eyes and played with her long eyebrows. Her left hand pulled the silk sheet over her body and covered her nakedness.
“May 12, 1990. Rings a bell?”

He was still lying there. His vision seemed to improve but still he could not clearly make out his surroundings. He once again tried to raise his head but got nauseous and laid back. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate. May 1990? Twelve years ago. What could she mean by that? What the fuck happened in 1990? The Berlin Wall was removed. Could that be it? November 9, 1990. The Berlin Wall was demolished. What did that have to do with him though? Not to mention it was not done in May. May 1990? The USSR dissolved? No, that was not until 1991.

“May 12, 1990 you fucking pig. Doesn’t the fucking date ring no fucking bell?”

Cyrano de Bergerac. Depardieu won the Cannes Film Festival award. The movie was awarded a golden globe. Could she be talking about that? Could she be Roxanne? Who was him then? Christian? It didn’t make any sense. What did that woman want of him?

The pain from the cigarette tip was instant as she threw him her smoke.
“Think you fucking bastard. Fucking think! 1990!”
She had come on her knees by now, still on the bed, and was looking down on him as he lay there naked, humiliated, cuffed and tied, his legs spread apart, his asshole exposed to her eyes.
What an awkward image they must have been. Him down there unable to move or even think correctly, and her shouting to him fiercely and enraged, her breast naked, the sheets only covering her body from the waist down as she had risen to look at him.

The Immigration Act. That must have been it. The Immigration Act of 1990. The congress modified the existing immigration legislation for the United States and lowered the annual ceiling of immigrants. She must have been an immigrant not covered by current legislation. That was it. But what the fuck did he have to do with that? He was just a cop for fuck’s shake. What could he possibly have done against the Congress’ legislation?

“1990. You pathetic little prick. You’re only good to fuck people and then forget about it. I am not surprised you don’t even remember fucking me just yesterday more than seven times. 1990. A whole year of anxiety before the final blow in 1991. A whole fucking year sweating in fear. And then the fear was realised in 1991 you fucking asshole. And you can’t even remember what the fuck I am talking about. You pathetic loss.”

That was it. The Congress Legislation of 1990. The Immigration Act. Amnesty was extended only to people making use of the 1986 immigration act. Somehow this bitch must have been one of those that were not favoured by the new legislation. For a whole year people attempted to invalidate the 1990 Act but that never happened. In fact, in 1991, exactly one year after the Immigration Act, the Congress proposed the Civil Right Act. Signed by Johnson, the Civil Rights Act of 1991, theoretically strengthened affirmative action. Civil rights were denied to Hispanic Americans, Puerto Ricans and Mexican Americans in the Southwest.
The bitch did not look at all Hispanic though. More like a slit eyes bitch. A crosswise junction of a black dog and a yellow, rotten bitch.
Forced removal and incarceration of Japanese descent, low immigration quotas and denial of equal rights. Asian-Americans suffered deprivations of most of their civil rights.
It still did not make any sense. Why him? Why like that? Was it an act of revenge? In the name of a nation? But what did he have to do with anything? He had merely exited the Police Academy in 1990. He was still twenty-four years old then. It couldn’t have been so abstract. This had “PERSONAL” written all over it. There was something more to it, only he could not find it.

“Four years in a fucking rat hole. Do you have any idea what four years can do to a thirteen year old brat in a fucking prison? … No of course you don’t …. The name Yu Ching rings a fucking bell? No. I guess not.”
She laid back on her back and once again pulled the sheets over her naked body. She rolled a second smoke and placed it against her lips. She closed her eyes and took a deep puff.
“He’s dead you know. So we can do nothing about it now.”

A sister? A cousin? A girlfriend? A friend? Who the fuck was she? Just what he needed. A fucking bitch lecturing him for a false arrest. He raised his head. Looked down between his thighs. His rubber rob was there, next to his handgun. Would she beat him to death? Shoot him? Was she just playing with him? Rising the ecstasy?

She pulled the sheet with her left hand and brought herself to sit on the edge of the bed. Inhaled a large cloud of smoke and dropped the fag on the silk sheet, which was instantly engulfed in flames. She rose slowly. She had taken off all her clothes. At some time while he was still unconscious, she had taken off everything, leaving on just her silverish t-string.
She walked towards him and knelt before his spread legs, her breasts rising before his yet extending hard on. In her hands, she gripped the rubber rod and chuckled. With her eyes, she pointed on his right. He turned his eyes and saw an enormous fire extinguisher.
“Come out and play”, she said as she brought the extinguisher before her.
It was all prepared then. She had designed it beforehand. The fire on the bed. That was why she also had the fire extinguisher. Come out and play? It was just a game after all. She wanted to rise the tension. He could lie back again and enjoy the game. This was no revenge. Just a game. There was no Ching. There never was no Ching. It was just a game.

She licked the rod. Her eyes closed with pleasure as her wet tongue travelled the length of the rubber enforcer.
“You like that babe?”
He could feel his swollen hard on growing even harder. He wanted to break loose of the cuffs, throw her on the carpet and rip through her legs forever. She was the hottest babe he had ever been with. He could feel it. He wanted to stay with her and cum all over her again and again and again…
With her right index finger she pulled her underwear to the side, exposing her asshole as she was still kneeling before him. With her left hand, she took the wetted rob and placed its tip against her ass. She raised only a couple of inches and sat on it. Her asshole widened as the rubber pushed against it and in the end, it was all inside her as she came up and down, pumping it deeper and deeper.
He was being driven crazy. He saw her fucking the rod and he could hear her pleasure and satisfaction moaning. He could feel drops of his cum dripping off the tip of his dick as he enjoyed the view. She leaned over and pressed her tongue against his hard on, gathering the drops and swallowing it to the final bit.
“It feels so good babe. And you taste even better…” she paused and looked deep in his eyes. “Do you know how good it feels babe?”. She took the rob from inside her and showed it to him. It was over twenty centimeters long and about six thick. “Do you want to know how good it feels pumping this in your ass?”
He felt the shock hitting him like a heat wave produced by a ten-megaton blast. Would she stuck that whole fucking thing up his tight butt hole? He knew there was no way he could take it. This was getting out of control.
“No. No!… NO!… NO! NO! NO”. He screamed in terror when she stood up before him. She was not willing to rip his arse apart then. What did she want though?
She walked to the bathroom and picked up a wet towel. Elegantly, slowly, determined. She walked back at him and offered a smile. “Come out and play”, she said and tied the towel around his head, covering the mouth, the nose and eyes. He could not see at all, he could only breath with difficulty and he was still unsure of what was going on.
It’s always awkward the first time. When something reverses the order in which things are supposed to happen. When something comes instead of leaving. When something enters instead of exiting.
He cried out loud. This was not the rod. It was far smaller. And colder. And… longer…
He felt it crawling inside him. The rectum, the large intestine. Fuck he could even fell it wrapping inside his small intestine. And then was it. When all turned white.
He could still hear her talking when he died. When all food, digested or not, it all travelled his digestive system backwards and came off his mouth. His eyes popped out and water filled the cavities. Water and blood. Shit filled his mouth and dropped on the thick carpet. Carbon dioxide and dry chemicals filled his pancreas, his stomach, which blew almost instantly, his gallbladder, his esophagus… His inner peptic system was cleared by the slightest trace of shit.
“You grow accustomed to it eventually. You may even grow to like it. I know I did.”
She took off the silver underwear and exposed a string, which was wrapped around her buttocks and even came between them. She untied the knot that held it in place, and from between her thighs, a hard, swollen cock emerged.
She fell on her knees, stuck the rubber rod inside her, pulled his buttocks against her thighs and after removing the fire extinguisher’s hose from his arse, she stuck inside him her thick hard on.
And then she fucked him. She fucked him all night…

  2001  /  Short Shories  /  Last Updated July 16, 2013 by Phlegyas  / 

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