From: gdnikoli@cayley.uwaterloo.ca (Greg Nikolic)
Subject: Love As It Is
Organization: University of Waterloo
Date: Fri, 22 Jan 1993 18:20:13 GMT

"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 is 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
good...."
    "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.
   
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"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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Send me your comments! Lots of them! You are getting very sleepy... there. Now
you will ... mail ... yes, mail ... your manifold comments to
                          gdnikoli@descartes.uwaterloo.ca
You are getting very sleepy.... you feel a strong urge to type, yes, to WRITE
to this account. To provide constructive criticism and ego-soothing
platitudes. You are getting very sleepy.

   
   
   
   
                                    
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