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Archive-name: SpecMome/loveasis.txt


Archive-title: Love As It Is

    Sometimes fortune drops one in your lap. In my case, it was after work one

chilly autumn day while a winter wind skated through the trees outside the

great New York 'scraper I worked in. 

    43 stories up, the streets of New York share the same grey monotony,

barring unexpected weather. Looking down through the plate glass in a genuine

experience in vertigo. Miniaturized people, toy cars, and thin ribbons of

grey. Congested with traffic, as usual.

    I glanced at my watch. The office is always deserted around this time,

making it an excellent time to cap off lingering work. The quiet and peace

always helped me get some of my most pressing thinking done. This time,

with the absense of clattering keyboards and background chatter, I could clear

out some long term planning.

    So I was completely self absorbed when a cheerful woman's voice jolted

me out of my self imposed reverie.

    "Huh?" I exclaimed in surprise, jerking forward in my swivel chair.

    She was smiling. A petite blonde girl dressed in blue coveralls, her

flaxen hair done up in a functional ponytail.

    She leaned forward as if I was a bedridden patient in one of the state's

institutions. I grinned haplessly while she spoke. "I said, 'Can I work here 

or will I be disturbing you?"

    Oh. I guessed she was here to complete some repair work. Probably she'd

supposed the place would be deserted.

    "No, no problem. I'll be out of here in half an hour anyway."

    "OK," she said without preamble, and got to work. She carried a toolbox

with her and in no time was puttering around some of the network cabling with

the arcane tools of her trade. When she knelt down I couldn't help but notice

the way cloth clung to the outline of her firm behind. Introspection seemed

to elude me now, I realized with a wry frown.

    "You're working late," she said over her shoulder as she concentrated on

her work in the partition next to mine.

    My voice conveyed a shrug. "When you're the son of a workaholic, you pick

up lots of nasty habits."

    She fiddled with something, her back blocking my view. "Oh? That's not


    "Steven," I put in.

    The woman straightened up deliberately and turned to me. "Alice," she 

said, taking my hand very firmly. I smiled.

    Alice got back to work but we settled into an interesting conversation

all the while. Turns out we had a lot in common: both from upstate New York,

both big baseball fans (coincidentally we loathed the Yankees)... the list

went on. Obviously she was a big 'people person'. You know the kind: eternally

cheerful, never wont for words. I found her charming and very cute.

    The more I talked to her the more appealing she became. And the hornier

I got, to my dismay. My divorce six months earlier had left me shaken and

rudderless. I felt too old to rejoin the dating scene, and a lot of my old

confidence had tipped its hat and taken a walk. This left me absent a partner

and without an outlet for my desires aside from the obvious one. I was hungry

for more. 

    I started talking about my ex. Alice seemed sympathetic about the marital

problems, although she expressed particular interest in the fact that I was

unattached. She was too. We were both in our thirties and remarked how tough

it was finding a good person these days.

    When she finished up and closed her toolbox with a solid click, I felt

a stab of alarm and regret. She was leaving me. For a moment there I'd thought

I felt something. I guessed I was wrong. Suddenly I wondered what in the hell

I was doing in this office night after night after busting my ass 9 to 5. This

-- all of it -- didn't seem right. I sighed.

    Some of the crestfallen emotion must have shown through my friendly

surface expression. 

    Alice asked, "What's wrong?" with obvious concern. I made myself smile.

    "Don't give me that," she said firmly, looking into my eyes. I felt my

smile weaken. 

    "I don't know, Alice." My smile vanished. "I feel all alone. Old and tired

and washed up. And alone." The word echoed through my mind without companions

of its own. Where was I now in life? What was I doing? And most pointed of

all, who was with me by my side? No one, that's who. 

    Alice cupped my cheeks with her soft, small hands and literally gave off

waves of reassurance. "You're OK."

    "I'm not."

    "You are," she insisted softly, and brought her face down to mine. Her

cheek brushed my forehead and then she was kissing me. 

    We embraced with deep seated passion. I don't know what happened to me,

where my inhibition and responsibilities went. I lifted her up onto my lap

and kicked back from the desk, the work, everything which held me in an iron

embrace. Instead I held Alice, stroked her, untied her ponytail and laughed

delightedly as she shook her hair. It was like being a kid again. I saw the

prospectus for a major project drift to the floor and smirked.

    You'd be surprised how quickly you can get out of one of those outfits

of Alice's. On my part, I half choked myself tearing off my silk tie.

Writhing around naked on the chair, without penetration, was incredibly fun.

I loved the way she laughed. You know, I used to love to spin those swivel

chairs around. I did so then. We almost fell off! But it was worth it.

    A bit of responsibility still nagged at me. "I don't have any condoms,"

I whispered guiltily as I nibbled one velvet earlobe. 

    She did. I wasn't going to question it, or her, so I settled back and

let her magical hands place the latex on with great tenderness and erotic

intent. She rolled it on expertly. That was something I was going to have

to ask her about later. Right then I was too busy running my hands through

her hair.

    Act finished, I thought she was going to raise her head for a kiss. In

a sense she did kiss me. Only her body slid down, not up. A groan signaled

my complete unpreparedness as her mouth enveloped my penis.

    She sucked with great force and skill. It was like... well like nothing

I'd quite experienced. My ex was certainly nowhere near as good. Looking

down on her bobbing head I was reminded of Dairy Queen. The way a chocolate

connisseur can dig into a delicious treat, truly lavish it with the

attention it deserves. I rolled my head back and grunted.

    Things were happening down there with tongue and lips and hands that

I couldn't bear to watch; the pleasure was too intense for me to focus on.

Once she lightly dragged her teeth down my shaft, tongued my balls, then

licked back up the length of it to suck the glans furiously. She executed

each movement like a gymnast on the bars. I had to resist pressing down on

her head. 

    My hips were thrusting of their own volition and the devilish woman was

smiling -- smiling! I gave her mouth something to chew on and thrust up

harder than before. She was caught off guard and gave me an unintentional

deep throat which I quite enjoyed. She pushed me down firmly and resumed

her wet missive.

    "Alice..." I murmured.

    Slurping sounds met my ears in reply.

    "I'm...." My head twisted and I pushed down at hers. She sucked on the

condom sheathed penis as I ejaculated into the reservoir tip, hard. I rocked

forward heedlessly, pressed down unintentionally. She felt me shake all over

as the orgasm dropped down from the sky, blindsided me. 

    Later, I lifted her head out of my lap and kissed her. I hugged her

tightly and sighed with relief and happiness. Fate was never so good to me.

I took off the condom and -- well it was either that or march to the 

bathroom naked -- dropped it in the wastebasket under the litter of today's

lunch. Oh god -- the cleaning lady would be by soon.

    I half fantasized the two of them planning this incident, Alice and

her, and chuckled in amusement at my own delirious imagination. But we had

to hurry.

    "Get dressed," I said, quickly grabbing at my own trousers. 

    She grinned like a cheshire cat and moved with langorous slowness. 

    "Come on," I worried. "A lady makes the rounds about this time!"

    "I know," she stretched. "She won't be by tonight."

    "She won't?" I stopped.

    "She's my friend." At this point Alice grinned wickedly. "And tonight

is my night." She stood up on tiptoes to kiss my surprised forehead. "I

hope you don't mind."

    "Why, er --" I dropped my clothes as she started kissing me again.    

"Not at all," I whispered. A sudden thought occurred to me, Mr. Responsible. 

"I don't suppose you have any more protection?"

    She did. A whole boxful.



"A lot of people who work there I don't know. Never talk to, have no idea

 who they are. You're never introduced. I don't even know who the president

 of the bank is. I don't know what he looks like." - Nancy Rogers, bank

 teller, from "Working", edited by Studs Terkel, pg.345



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