Wednesday, July 28, 2004

Sex and cleaning. And oh yeah, Steve is clinically insane.

It's Saturday. 

After blowing a disgusting, juicy, fish-smelling, nasty-ass fart right in front of the accounting manager, I figure I've done enough damage for one day, so I prepare to leave.  It turns out she had run the report for 2003 instead of 2004, so she starts it again for the proper date range and then heads home.  The report will print out on its own when it's finished, so I can leave too.  I'll review the report on Monday.

After the fart, I didn't apologize.  I didn't turn red.  I didn't react at all.  I pretended it never happened.  If I had started stammering and begging for forgiveness, it would have turned into the funniest thing Melissa had ever seen (and heard, and smelled).  But because I didn't acknowledge it, she probably walked out of my office wondering if it had, in fact, happened at all.  It's just like my dad says:  Life is 10% what happens to you, and 90% how you deal with it.

But not to worry.  I am sure it's going to be all over the office on Monday.  I am probably going to be called "GasMan", or some other ridiculous nickname, for the rest of my career.

I take three more Maalox and head out the door.  I call Lila from the road.

"Hi baby," she says on the first ring.

"I'm on my way.  Are you ready?"


I pull up to Lila's house.  It looks strange in the bright, clear daylight.  I realize that I've never really been here before dark.  It's actually quite an attractive property:  The grass is thick, plush, meticulously mowed, and deeply green; mums grow along the footpaths; lilacs perfume the air.  The condo is attractively clad in beige vinyl siding with forest green shutters.

I ring the bell.  Lila opens the door.  "Bye mom," she says, and quickly walks out, closing the door behind her. 

Damn.  I was hoping to get a look at her mother.

"Let's go," she says.  She looks... angry.

We are at the edge of the parking lot, waiting for the traffic to break so we can pull out.  She grabs my face, one hand below my chin, the other at the top of my head.  She plants her lips on mine, kissing me deeply.

"LILA!  We're still in the parking lot!"

"I am SO fucking crazy right now.  I can't take this.  I want you SO fucking bad, Steve.  I have to fuck you right now."

"We'll be there in 10 minutes," I say, pulling onto the road.

She kisses me on the ear.  Her warm breath, and the sound of her lips touching me, sends chills down my spine.  "Find someplace to pull over," she says.

I think back.  Damn, it's been about two weeks since I've been with Lila.  The last time was in my office, I think.

"I couldn't take it," she is saying.  She is kissing my neck.  "I miss you so much.  I sit around the house [kiss] and I think about you [kiss] and I just wish I could [kiss] kiss you and [kiss] hold you..."

I am instantly hard.  My muscles start to get weak.  I can barely see.  I can barely think.  My mind is suddenly locked on the idea of fucking her.  NOW.  Not 10 minutes from now.  Not 2 minutes from now.

I am shaking.  My heart is pounding.  I am either the most turned on I have ever been, or I am about to die of a heart attack.

I turn left onto a side street.  A large sign reads, "Maplewood Estates".  The street is about 300 yards long, ending in a cul-de-sac.  There is a federal-style colonial at the base of the cul-de-sac; a car is in the driveway.  There are 4 or 5 other houses on the street, in various stages of construction.  I pull off to the right shoulder, amid the dirt, mud and rocks. 

There is no conversation.  There is no need for any.  This is a huge mistake, but I am totally fucking out of control.  It's like I am outside my body, watching myself.  WTF is happening to me, man?  I thought I had it together!

I am marginally aware that the car is shaking violently as we tear our clothes off.

This is stupid.  There are safe ways to fuck in a car, and UNsafe ways.  The safe way is to remove only as much clothing as you have to, so you can make a fast getaway if need be.  The DUMB way is to get totally, bare-ass naked.  Like Lila and I am now.

She is panting heavily, her big tits rising and falling with the rhythm of her breath.  She sweeps her hair out of her face and glares at me, her mouth closed firmly.  It's almost like she's pissed, again.

She reclines her seat as far back as it will go.  It doesn't go very far; just enough to get the job done.

I am on top of her.  I watch as the swollen, bulbous head of my cock slides smoothly into her.  I listen to the choppy sound of my breath as I repeatedly thrust my full shaft inside her squishy, wet hole.  I am grinding wildy away at her, and she is thrusting her hips back at me in perfect synch.

She grabs me around the back of the neck.  It occurs to me that I can't see, and I panic for a brief moment until I realize that my eyes have rolled back in their sockets.  I can hear the squeaking of the car's shocks, but just barely, as if it were far away.

Now her hands are on my scalp.  She squeezes a handful of my hair into her fist and pulls desperately, as if that were the only thing keeping her from falling off a cliff.  It hurts, but the pain is weirdly disconnected from me, like someone else's pain.

There is no technique on my part.  There is no effort to prolong the sex, or make it better for her.  Or me.  It is pure, raw, animal lust, and it's fucking amazing.  And scary.

Would I kill?  I think.  Would I fucking kill someone for this feeling?

I come for what feels like an hour.  I collapse next to Lila, catching my breath, my heartbeat slowing down to normal.

Lila's seat is drenched in cum.  "I guess I have something to clean now," she says.


We get to the house, and there is basically nothing to clean.  She changes the sheets on the bed and puts away my white laundry.  I am sitting at my computer, working.

She comes over and sits on my lap.  She stares silently at me, looking at every inch of my face.  She plays with my hair, and rests her head on my chest.

"I love you," she says.

Say it back, you asshole.

I just had the most amazing, mind-blowing sex of my entire life.  If I live to be 100, I may never have sex like that again.  So what the fuck is my problem?  It's never going to get any better than this! Maybe it's time to commit to her.  Maybe it's time to get over whatever stupid issues I have and go for it.


"You are so amazing," I say.

"Thank you!" she says.  "Hey!  Guess what?"


"My mom said I could stay with my dad next weekend!!"

"Awesome, baby!"

"I think I wanna tell him the truth about where I'm going.  And who I'm going with."


"Steve, my dad is a convicted criminal.  He spent 10 years in jail.  He doesn't speak to my mom.  I can tell him.  He's not gonna care!"


"Trust me.  Please?"

"We'll talk about it."

Lila decides it would be a good idea to plant some bulbs along the side of the house, so we go down to the local nursery (I let her drive) and buy some.  We get home and plant them, and it's just about time to go.

We get cleaned up and watch a little of "I Love the 90's" on VH1.  How fucking funny is that Michael Ian Black, anyway?  She is next to me on the couch, leaning her head lazily against my shoulder.

This is normally where I would make a move on her.  But I am fucking tapped out.  I don't want to have sex right now!  How crazy is that?  The mind-altering screw in the car actually satiated me, believe it or not.

I keep thinking about Lila wanting to tell her dad about us.  Should I trust her?  I feel like I should.  But why do I get the feeling that, if I do, I'm going to regret it? And what the hell happened in the car?  Did Steverino finally go over the edge.........?