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He
lounged against the
pillows as the man
regained himself.
"
Here are some wipes," he said, cleaning off his
face and passing the
box to the
gay man he had just fucked.
"I thought you were straight," the man
said,
panting.
"
What's that?" "
Everyone told me you were
straight," the man said again.
"I didn't expect you to
want to.
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you know.
" "Fuck you? No, I am straight.
I'm just tired of fucking my wife.
" "You have a wife?" the man had his
shirt off and was dabbing at it,
trying to
get the semen out of it.
"Of course.
Don't you?" "Well, yes.
I just thought that
someone like you.
you know.
" "Someone like me.
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A prostitute.
" Albert looked as his
penis.
It was still shrinking but slowly.
It lolled against his firm pelvis,
nearly toughing
his belly button.
It would have been a shame to
not make money off of it.
"You are gay though,
right?" "I
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I like to fuck men and women.
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Some more than
others at
different times.
" "So you're a
bisexual?" "Why
are these labels so important to you? You paid for the best blowjob of your life and did you get it?" "Well,
yes.
" "You paid for a straight man and the only
men I've ever fucked are the men
who have paid me for it.
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I'll probably go
home tonight and
give my wife
oral sex.
I'll even
enjoy it.
Wouldn't you
call that straight?" "Well, I suppose.
" "And yet I still got
pleasure by putting myself
inside of you.
Do you
see how your labels don't
apply?" "I suppose so.
" The
man was
shaken up
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Albert could see the frustrated disappointment on his
big gay face.
He
got up to
leave and nearly bumped his
head on the roof of the
car.
"Will I ever see you again?" he
asked from the pavement.
Night was gathering
outside.
"Doubtful.
I rarely repeat customers.
" This wasn't
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Albert repeated plenty of his customers but
only the ones he liked
fucking, looking at, or talking to.
This man had none of these qualities.
"That's a shame," he said.
"That
really was the
best blowjob of my
life.
" As the man pulled himself into his SUV and drove
back down the
levels of the parking garage, Albert leaped out of the
bed of his truck.
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Naked, he walked to the
rail and looked
out over the city of
New Haven and its
mismatched architecture, its damp side
streets and
cracked sidewalks, its
many thriving and dying residents and thought, "This is my city.
" The moon was
half full and
dangling over the Knights of Columbus building
like a wind chime hanging on some invisible thread.
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He stood
there with one
foot on the railing and his
cock soft
between his
legs.
He was a defrocked
superhero standing there, marveling over his hazy city.
And there
went the roof of the man's silver SUV, bumping down the
road, off to
maintain the
legend of the straight
prostitute and the best blowjob in the city.
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She was in her early 40s, just a
couple of
years younger than me.
We met at a celebration party
when my wife’s course at the
local university had ended.
It was the usual
drinks and snacks sort of do, and my
wife was introducing me to various
people as we were moving
around, and spending
time chatting to various people that we’d met before.
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Suddenly amongst
one small group that we
joined, she was there,
tall and
slim, though well rounded, her neat waist giving her a real
old fashioned
hour-
glass figure, and
more than anything else, a great
smile.
I found
myself untypically
tongue-
tied,
feeling awkward, and
afterwards my wife remarked that I was quieter than usual.
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We chatted briefly together, and
moved on to talk with others, but I knew that she was still in the
room, and managed the occasional glance around to locate her.
Once or twice I saw that she was looking over as well and our
eyes met briefly.
Was I fooling myself that I saw a
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The next day at
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thinking about her,
even though I hadn’t
caught her name.
My
office was in the
city centre, and at lunchtime I
did as usual and
crossed the road to a small
sandwich shop.
As I was turning to leave, I bumped into
someone entering the
shop, and with an almost electric shock
realised that it was
she.
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Stumbling
over my
words to apologise, she took advantage of the hiatus to apologise for
dashing into the
shop without looking.
And so we got
talking, and ate
our sandwiches in a small
park near the city centre
and just talked, and talked.
Time passed, and I was oblivious to
everything except
her, until my
mobile phone rang reminding me
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We arranged to meet again a couple of days
later for lunch, and parted.
Sarah, which was her
name as I had soon discovered, was
married, but had no
children, and a
husband who was away a lot, which was why she was at that
party alone.
She was a junior
partner in a firm of
solicitors in the city.
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Lunch
happened, and another, and it was clear that the
attraction was mutual, and having had perhaps a
little more wine than usual, we made arrangements to have dinner
rather than lunch.
I often had to
entertain clients so I could hide the fact that this was not a client
meeting easily.
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