Livin’ and Lovin’

Previously, on A Young American…

To start at the beginning, go here.

While on the plane to NYC, I noticed a woman in ruby red returning from the bathroom.

Women in red.

It was my weakness’s weakness. Thoughts intruded my head by force. Ravaging the woman in red and hoping she wouldn’t turn out to be a Mr. Smith. Before I knew it I had a flag at full mast. It refused to go down and I had no choice but to support my troops.

Fuck it, I thought. I got up and went to the bathroom to get a solo membership. While I was in there, imagining how great it would be to be fucking someone in this cramped area, the plane started to shake. I stopped and then felt it suddenly go up, as if I were in a high-speed elevator. Outside I heard one of the Stewardesses say, “You’re not supposed to feel that.” to the other. Uh-oh. I could imagine the headline:

ONLY ONE PERSON KILLED IN PLANE CRASH: SOME ASSHOLE JERKING OFF IN THE BATHROOM.

I hurried up to finish and just as I started to come the plane shook again, a little harder this time. My pants were now riddled with come drops. Disgusting, smelly, cream-colored come drops. I tried to turn on the sink, but it was a damn pump faucet, and I barely got it started before I heard knocking on the door. “Sir, I need you to go and take your seat.” The Stewardess cried, a little too loudly for my taste.

“Just a second.” I said, grabbing a paper towel.

“Now, sir. Or else I’m going to have to open this door and drag you out.”

Can they do that? I thought. I didn’t want to risk it. I abruptly opened the door and attempted to force myself past her without letting her get a good look. Unfortunately she was right outside, and when I pushed through her some of my boys got on her hand. I didn’t stop to check the damage, but I did hear an “EWW!” right before a door latched. I sat back down in my seat and grabbed on of the magazines in front of me, using it to wipe away what I could. I put my headphones on and forced myself to sleep for the remainder of the flight.

I was always one for the touristy hotels, so when I came in, and took a cab over to the Sheraton. I found out that getting an apartment in the city was difficult, to say the least. I had to get a realtor, as if I were buying a house, to show me around some of the places. The first day he wanted me to meet him on the corner of 6th and 47th to show me around. When I saw him it felt more like he was my drug dealer than my realtor.

“How are ya, Logan?” He said, shaking my hand.

“Not too bad, Mike. Just looking for a place to live.”

“Well, you’ve come to the right guy.” I certainly hoped so. He took me for a walk uptown a little ways, before cutting into what I thought was an alley, but was actually a very narrow street. We went up to a seemingly random door.

“All right,” He said, “Follow me.”  He walked inside and immediately up the stairs.

“How far we goin’ Mike?” I asked.

“Eighth floor.” He said, marching like this was a race.

“Eighth!?  There’s no elevator?”

“Afraid not.” Mike said, already halfway to the third floor.

“All right, stop.” I said.

“What?”

“Three’s the highest I’m willing to go. Let’s go to the next one.”

“But you haven’t even seen-”

“I don’t need to.” I interrupted. “Let’s go.” I went outside and lit up a cigarette while he came back down. He gave me a look like I was some kind of weirdo. “Hey I don’t wanna have to go up and down eight flights of stairs every time I go do something.” I said, justifying myself.

“Well, you came to the wrong place.” He said, walking ahead of me again.

“Right guy, wrong place. You’re not a very good seller I take it?”

“I like to let the property speak for itself.”

“That makes two of us.” I tossed my cigarette in the nearest trashcan when we showed up at the next apartment.

“This one’s on the first floor. Is that okay?” He asked, sarcastically. The place was hardly bigger than the trashcan I just tossed my cigarette in. The bed lifted up into the wall, and there wasn’t even a dishwasher.

“Was this place built this century?  Where’s all the stuff?”

“What do you mean?”

“Like the washer and dryer, dishwasher, heater, AC.”

“The heater is over there.” He pointed at the radiator in the corner.

“That’s it?  It’s not even connected to the bedroom, or the living room. It’s just in this sorry excuse for a hallway.”  

“You know what?” Mike pushed me out of the apartment.

“I don’t get paid enough to take this kind of shit from somebody like you. Next time you’re thinking of moving, do a little research.” He guided me out of the apartment and walked away. I stood there, lighting another cigarette.

“Research!?  I’m sorry if I expect you to have common household furnishings in the apartments!” I shouted. Mike flipped me off as he turned the corner. That went well. I took a walk around the city, admiring the enormous buildings.

Sure, New Yorkers were assholes, but anything’s better than small town betrayal. Plus they kept to themselves. If I didn’t do anything to them, then they wouldn’t do anything to me. I returned to my hotel and sat at the bar to enjoy a Jack and Coke. One became three and my eyes were focused on the condensation until the blur of my peripheral practically lassoed my eyeballs, pulling them toward what was once a red fog in the corner of my eye.

The woman in red.

The woman in red from the plane, and she was anything but. Her eyes turned to me. “You following me?” I asked.

“Took the question right out of my mouth.”

“Such is the answer I’d expect from someone caught in the act.” She smiled. Her lips were an even deeper red than her petite frill blouse cupping her milky white Caucasian body. Her breasts looked like C- but I guessed the blouse gave off the illusion that they were larger. Damn that color. Why did it have to exist? Her blonde hair was thick and wavy, but perfectly in place. “Forgive me for asking, but do you happen to be a time traveler?”

“What?” She laughed.

“You look like someone straight outta 1940. A real life dame. Am I correct to assume you’re staying in this hotel as well?”

“No,” she took a sip from her neon cocktail. “Like you said, I was following you.”

“Aha!”

“Not so fast.” She slid over to the seat next to mine, “Maybe I wanted to get caught.” I gulped as inaudibly as possible.

“So…what brings you to New York?” She rolled her eyes and opened her woman wallet. Out came a blank white card, which she slid over and under my coaster.

“405.” Her woman wallet snapped shut and she stood from the barstool, patting down her black skirt. The duplicitous dame walked away from me, down to the hall of elevators, where she surely disappeared. My hands were shaking. I wish I could have blamed it on the recovering effects of a week drowned in booze, but I couldn’t kid myself. I didn’t want to seem too eager, so I sipped away my drink as slow as I could. When all that was left was a couple three ice cubes, I called the bartender over to close out, left a nice tip as a finder’s fee, and double tapped the keycard before slipping it into my front pocket and approaching the elevator.

I knocked on 405. Her serene, high pitch slid through the doors. “Who is it?” I cleared my throat.

“Um, it’s the guy from the bar…and the plane.”

“Well come in. I gave you a key.” I blinked and slapped my forehead with the heel of my hand, pulled out the card and slid it through. The red light turned green. Inside I heard the radio playing the end of Lady Gaga’s “Edge of Glory”. That hard sax pierced my ears just as the woman in red came into view. She sat on the edge of the bed, still wearing her outfit. “Didn’t think you’d actually come.”

“Well I did. That’s why I’m a little late.”

“Ew.” She laughed.

“Just a friendly joke.” She patted the bed, circling the empty spot next to her. I sat where her hand was and she swung herself around, sitting on top of me, gliding her fingers down my chest. She rested a hand between my legs and massaged. I tilted up and kissed her glossy red lips. I grabbed the small of her back and pulled her in closer.

One of the straps from her blouse slipped of her shoulder, which I proceeded to kiss while I slid a finger under the bra strap. She pushed me back and raised her shirt over her head. I ran my fingers over her smooth stomach while she unclasped the bra. Neither the shirt nor the bra were deceiving. Underneath, her breasts were large and beautiful. The Areolas were perfectly round, the nipples protruding just enough to get my teeth around them, which I promptly did.

I put a hand on her back in place of the breast in my mouth while I sucked and she moaned. Her head reared back as I looked up. Then it hit me. A rush of something sweet and nutty filled my mouth and I backed off, wiping my chin. A drop of breast milk hung from her nipple. “Wh–what?”

“It happens.” She shrugged, “You gonna keep going?” I sat with myself for a moment. It was kinky, but it was a strange kind of kinky. I loved me a nice pair of breasts, but these ones were leaking.

Fuck it.

I delved onto the other one, sucking the sap right from the tree. My decision seemed to have enlightened her, because her hand pressed against the back of my head and her moans increased in decibels. At least I was getting my protein. Her free hand went right to my belt, unbuckling it as loudly as possible. She ripped the button off when I bit down on her nipple and forced my cock to the surface, stroking it tightly and grinding her sweet spot against my knee.

I was about to offer to pull her panties off, but she lunged forward and took a finger, sliding it to the side and connecting our bodies like Legos. She rode and rode, and every time I took my mouth off she slammed my head back to her chest. Her pussy was the wettest I’d ever been inside. Harder and harder she pounced until-

Splash!

My lap was covered in what was arguably piss. But I was caught in the moment, and my own nutritional substance spilled down my shaft as I threw her off me. I fell back on the bed, which was now damp with fluids of all kinds. Poor housekeepers were going to hate us. Hate her, I thought, this isn’t my room.

She curled up at the head of the bed. Didn’t even say goodnight as she turned out the light. A proper first night in New York, I suppose. I grabbed a towel, wiped my pants and whispered a thank you to the strange red maiden before I turned in to my turned down hotel room.

 

Next Chapter

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