can be far too clever for her own good . It had been a long slow weekend waiting to catch a glimpse of a dark stranger around every corner. She’d gone up to some of her usual haunts but had been back home before midnight. The music, the energy, the hedonistic thrill that was Jazz Harlem didn’t thrill as much anymore. The bands still played music that moved her to dance but it didn’t allow her to lose herself anymore. Her brain was still whirring a mile a minute with questions she couldn’t answer by herself.
Instead she went home and lay on her empty bed and rubbed herself until finding a release of tension but not a lot of pleasure. She pictured those big hands and a cock to match. She imagined riding him and then being ridden, all hot hard muscles and sweat and the luscious smell of sex.
She wondered what it sounded like when he laughed. Whether he would steal all the covers in bed. If he wouldn’t mind finding a nice cottage somewhere in the middle of the country where the frenetic energy of millions of people wasn’t spilling over and sapping her soul.
Ahhh! She was generally losing her mind. One kiss and one medieval comment and she was ready to paint a picket fence and have little black-haired, green-eyed babies. Christ I am pathetic . She couldn’t even get away from him once she finally fell asleep. Instead of the occasional sweet dreams of the time she’d pinned Jimmy up against a tree to get a good solid French kiss out of him, she was besieged with visions of a dark man pushing her into the hard bark of that same tree, his tongue in her mouth and his cock deep enough to hit her womb.
She woke up wet and breathless and so horny she had to get herself off again just to have the will to get up and get on with the day. After a week of this she was frustrated and aching. March had come in like a lion and went out like a bear, the chill refusing to let up. April didn’t look to be a whole lot better. The pounding in her head wouldn’t let up and she could barely keep down any food. The city that had sheltered her from her own life for so many years was becoming a tormentor.
Shuffling through her morning routine and hurrying through the cold blocks she descended into the subway. Pushing onboard an already crowded train, she clutched a ring and swayed with the train as it sang its hollow underground roar. The mechanical syncopation was just enough to focus her mind for a brief instant on the here and now, giving a startling moment of clarity even here in a crowd where the multitude of auras made her temples throb.
I will miss this . She would miss the city but it wasn’t her home. It had never been her home.
* * * * *
“Sophie’s early! It’s a miracle!” The slightly gap-toothed grin of Alan Lowbridge greeted her as she walked in the empty pharmacy’s jangling front door. She rolled her eyes. He knew she hated being called Sophie. Sweeping past him doing his morning routine of stocking the soda fountain, she shrugged off her coat and hung it up at a peg on the back wall.
“Oh, Soph my dear, oh wise woman of the Ohio tribe, I don’t know if taking off your coat is such a good idea. The special, ”he waggled blond eyebrows, “pipes burst last night, ruining a huge batch of hooch. Dad’s fainted from the fumes and we’ll all have to hoof it and go on the lam to get away from the vengeful gangsters. Just you and me against the world, my little tomato!”
She blinked at him with raised brows. He was such a goof. “What is that? The plot to the latest Clara Bow flick?”
He frowned. “You are such a flat tire lately. So much for April Fool’s. And no, Clara’s gone on to bigger and better things than gangster pictures.”
Oh lord, she’d forgotten it was April Fool’s. The college kids and the like would be pouring in today, trying to buy itching powder or exploding cigars or whatever prank they thought of next. And Alan, who still
Instead she went home and lay on her empty bed and rubbed herself until finding a release of tension but not a lot of pleasure. She pictured those big hands and a cock to match. She imagined riding him and then being ridden, all hot hard muscles and sweat and the luscious smell of sex.
She wondered what it sounded like when he laughed. Whether he would steal all the covers in bed. If he wouldn’t mind finding a nice cottage somewhere in the middle of the country where the frenetic energy of millions of people wasn’t spilling over and sapping her soul.
Ahhh! She was generally losing her mind. One kiss and one medieval comment and she was ready to paint a picket fence and have little black-haired, green-eyed babies. Christ I am pathetic . She couldn’t even get away from him once she finally fell asleep. Instead of the occasional sweet dreams of the time she’d pinned Jimmy up against a tree to get a good solid French kiss out of him, she was besieged with visions of a dark man pushing her into the hard bark of that same tree, his tongue in her mouth and his cock deep enough to hit her womb.
She woke up wet and breathless and so horny she had to get herself off again just to have the will to get up and get on with the day. After a week of this she was frustrated and aching. March had come in like a lion and went out like a bear, the chill refusing to let up. April didn’t look to be a whole lot better. The pounding in her head wouldn’t let up and she could barely keep down any food. The city that had sheltered her from her own life for so many years was becoming a tormentor.
Shuffling through her morning routine and hurrying through the cold blocks she descended into the subway. Pushing onboard an already crowded train, she clutched a ring and swayed with the train as it sang its hollow underground roar. The mechanical syncopation was just enough to focus her mind for a brief instant on the here and now, giving a startling moment of clarity even here in a crowd where the multitude of auras made her temples throb.
I will miss this . She would miss the city but it wasn’t her home. It had never been her home.
* * * * *
“Sophie’s early! It’s a miracle!” The slightly gap-toothed grin of Alan Lowbridge greeted her as she walked in the empty pharmacy’s jangling front door. She rolled her eyes. He knew she hated being called Sophie. Sweeping past him doing his morning routine of stocking the soda fountain, she shrugged off her coat and hung it up at a peg on the back wall.
“Oh, Soph my dear, oh wise woman of the Ohio tribe, I don’t know if taking off your coat is such a good idea. The special, ”he waggled blond eyebrows, “pipes burst last night, ruining a huge batch of hooch. Dad’s fainted from the fumes and we’ll all have to hoof it and go on the lam to get away from the vengeful gangsters. Just you and me against the world, my little tomato!”
She blinked at him with raised brows. He was such a goof. “What is that? The plot to the latest Clara Bow flick?”
He frowned. “You are such a flat tire lately. So much for April Fool’s. And no, Clara’s gone on to bigger and better things than gangster pictures.”
Oh lord, she’d forgotten it was April Fool’s. The college kids and the like would be pouring in today, trying to buy itching powder or exploding cigars or whatever prank they thought of next. And Alan, who still
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