I don’t do long term. Under any circumstances. It’s never happening. Not once have I met a pussy special enough to make me commit to a lifetime of routine and boring sex in the missionary position. A shudder runs through me just thinking about it.
Misty down at Channel Five news has been screaming for my affections at the last few events we’ve attended. But little does miss sunny days know, she’s about to get my undivided attention.
She’s blonde with tits the size of Texas and a Colgate smile. What’s not to like? I decide to give her a call later as I step out of the shower and onto the heated tile flooring.
With a towel wrapped around my waist, I slick my fingers through the short tufts of hair, deciding to sort it out later because a cup of coffee is calling my name. The shower had helped with the smell but I’m hoping a serious dose of caffeine will eliminate the headache.
In my kitchen, I head to the single-serve coffee machine my housekeeper, Gladys, installed for the days she isn’t here. Being Sunday, she has the day off and I’m left to fend for myself. As much as anyone would have to do with a fully stocked fridge overflowing with their favorite meals.
Gladys always outdoes herself.
Hovering near the counter, I drink the strong Colombian coffee like it’s water. My eyes barely take in the old but polished features of my kitchen because it’s the same thing I’ve looked at for years. After inheriting the place at the age of twenty-one, it’s been my bachelor pad ever since. Only minimal updates have been made over the years to preserve the historic structure.
Halfway done with my second mug of coffee, I open the fridge to inspect the contents and Gladys didn’t disappoint.
“Hell yeah,” I say, pulling out the Tupperware full of her famous baked ziti.
Never mind the fact that it’s nine in the morning, Gladys’ baked ziti is perfect for any time of day.
With it heating in the microwave, I make my way to the front hall to inspect the pile of mail I’ve neglected all week. It’s stacked neatly so I grab it and begin flipping through envelopes.
Bills. Event invites. Credit card offers. Coupons for services that I will never need.
The usual bullshit.
A brightly colored leaflet catches my eye. Well, not so much the leaflet but the woman on it.
She’s fucking hot. Even though it’s just a headshot, the photo sends weird signals throughout my body.
The woman is a brunette with eyes darker than my morning coffee. She has the face of an angel. Everything about it is feminine and soft, from her slightly rounded cheeks to her small nose and her full pink lips.
Her neck is fucking perfection. The pallor of its complexion is begging me to mark it with my mouth and show the world that she’s been marked off my list.
Flawless, straight white teeth are bared by her warm smile and I can just imagine the feel of those full lips wrapped snuggly around my shaft as I pump deep into her throat. In an instant my mind transports me to a scene with her kneeling before me, her knees digging into the cold hardwood floor as she takes me into her hot, wet mouth.
Holy hell.
Never in my life have I been so damn turned on by the idea of someone. And I can’t even see the rest of her! An urgency I can’t explain comes over me and I know I need to see the rest of her.
I need her. If the tent rising at the front of my towel is any indication, this sexy brunette is going to be next tick on my bucket list. The need growing inside of me is carnal and I intend to satisfy my hunger.
Scanning the leaflet, it’s for a wealth management firm situated in the center of Greenwich that I’ve never heard of before.
Tossing the rest of the mail on the table, I turn and head back to the kitchen still staring at the leaflet. Mentally, I’m updating my checklist all the while. This woman is divine and I’ve got to sample her for myself.
Despite its rocky start, today is turning out to be good after all.
The day I can add “fucked a woman on a leaflet” to my running total will be a good day indeed.
Two
ANDREW
This morning I wake up with a mission. I’m going to meet the vixen on the leaflet if it’s the last thing I do.
By early Monday afternoon, I’m pulling into the small parking lot outside of the office building advertised in the leaflet. I didn’t make an appointment, but I’m pretty confident that I can easily make myself a priority.
My last name holds weight around this town and I don’t have a problem taking advantage of that fact.
Cutting the engine of my ‘67 Camaro, I take a moment to stare up at the building. Castle Wealth Management. The building isn’t big by any means, nor is it flashy which I imagine works well for their exclusive clientele.
In the small lobby, I shoot a toothy grin at the older lady behind the desk and pull the leaflet out of my back pocket. Before I can speak, her eyes double in size like she’s seen a celebrity.
“How can I help you today?” She gushes and I swear her cheeks turn pink as she waits for my response.
“I actually have a favor to ask,” I say smoothly, putting the brightly colored advertisement in front of her. I notice her name on a small name plate and play it up for her. “Louisa, could you tell me if this pretty lady works here?”
Louisa eyes the photo in front of her before nodding and supplying me with the exact info I need.
“That’s Lilah Tucker, one of our newer advisors. Would you like to schedule a consultation
