Stevo 38, Monogamy 0

For those of you scoring at home, it's October 22, 2004, about 7:30pm.

After my talk with Stephanie, I head back to the office to catch up on e-mail. There are 85 messages in my inbox, 21 new.

I start to respond to the messages. From my keyboard, I electronically delegate, educate, and sometimes pontificate (why do I suddenly sound like Reverend Jesse Jackson?). It's amazing that I can get so much work done without even getting out of my chair. But it's also stressful, because, as the saying goes, "work expands to fill allotted time." If I finish all of my e-mail, something else will come up. It always does.

I get my inbox down to 14 new messages. I also clear my desk and feel a lot better.

My payroll manager and I (again, over e-mail) draft letters to the tax authorities to request that the penalties be waived. We owe a total of $3500; I hope to reduce that by 90%, but I'll take 70 or 80%. Once the initial hysteria subsided, this didn't turn out to be so catastrophic after all. Mona Lisa was right again.

I look at my watch. It's 10:20.

Holy shit! I'm supposed to be at Stephanie's!

I dash to my car and zoom out of the parking lot, dialing her number.

"Hey-y!" She says.

"Sorry! I got wrapped up in work!"

"No, not you!" she says.

"I'm on my way."

"Um, actually, you're probably gonna kill me, but.."

"What? You wanna do this tomorrow?"

"I have one more chapter I have to get to. Can you come in an hour?"

I can come in two minutes, if you know what you're doing, honey.

"Yeah. I'll be there about 11:30."

More work. Seemingly an instant later, it's 25 after. I call again.

"You still comin'?" she says.

"Ya, I'm on my way. God, it's 11:30!"

"I know. I don't feel much like drinking now. Or at least not going OUT and drinking."

"You want me to bring a bottle?"

"Mmmm, no. I have some stuff here."

11:45. Steph's house. It's a smallish beige and white duplex with two ten-foot squares of grass in the front, split by a concrete walk. She's got the bottom floor of the house all to herself.

She opens the door. "Hi, handsome!"

We hug. Her hair is pulled back into a hasty ponytail; her face looks drawn and her eyes are drooping. She's got a grey Champion sweatshirt on; it hangs down past her hips, and the sleeves are too long. Gotta be FBI dude's, I think. I can see the collar of a black shirt underneath. She looks....cozy. But exhausted.

"You look tired," I say.

"You too."

"OK, let's check Steph's liquor cabinet," she says, opening the wooden door under the kitchen sink. "Half-empty vodka, half-empty Jack Daniel's, flat, warm club soda..."

"What's that bottle with the red cap? That looks good!" I say.

"Lestoil," she says, laughing. She's on hands and knees now, her head in the cabinet.

"Hey, let's rock some Lestoil-and-tonics!" I say.

"Doubt it!" she says, her voice echoing hollowly.

"Do you have any Coke?" I say.

She pulls her head out of the cabinet and kneels on the floor. "I have Coca-Cola. If you want the other kind you'll have to call Lila," she says, smiling.

"And YOU'LL have to call Paul to arrest her."

"He's actually never arrested anyone."

"Really?"

"Yeah!" she says. "I'm telling you, it's nothing like you see on TV."

I pull a two-liter Coke from the fridge. A little puff of air hisses out as I remove the cap. "This is flat as hell."

"I don't drink soda. That's my roomie's."

"When did she move out?"

"Three weeks ago."

"Yikes."

It's no problem, though. In a properly-mixed Jack-and-Coke, the Coke is a mere formality, like when the quarterback takes a knee to run the clock out. It could be Jack-and-piss and you shouldn't be able to tell. Any more than a thimbleful is wasted.

I mix up the drinks and hand her one. "To.....stress relief," I say. We click glasses.

"DAMN that is strong!" she exclaims.

"This is extreme, hard-core stress relief," I say.

"Obviously! I hope I survive!"

I laugh.

"Hey! Let's check the TV Guide!" she says.

She runs back to the couch and starts flipping through the listings. "Ohhh! Look!" she says, pointing to an entry on the page.

2:00am, The Brady Bunch.

"We HAVE to stay awake for this," she says.

"I'm with you!"

I sit longways on the couch. She sits between my legs, with her shoulder blades against my chest. I put my arm around her waist, and I feel her heave a deep sigh and I know that she is totally relaxed, just like she was in front of the pond that time.

She puts her drink down on the coffee table. I see her and I do the same. I know what THAT means.

She turns around and faces me. "Thank you for coming over so late."

"Thank you for having me."

"I haven't had you yet," she says, huskily. She's not smiling.

"So take me now," I say.

She turns all the way around, so that she is up on her knees on the couch. She kisses me. Her lips are soft and succulent. I can taste the Jack and Coke.

Her eyes look all around my face, as if she's searching for something. I kiss her again.

I pull away from her. She's still looking at me.

She's thinking about it! She's feeling guilty, and wondering if she should go through with it.

"You ok?" I ask.

She nods, biting her lips.

"Did you bring one?" she says.

"Huh?"

"One of those things you left here."

"Uh-huh."

"You have to use one," she says.

"I will."

She sits up and pulls her sweatshirt off, and the black t-shirt underneath. She's wearing a purple bra. She reaches her hands awkwardly behind her back.

"C'mere," I say. She kisses me. I put my right hand behind her back and unhook her bra.

"How did you DO that?" she says.

"Beginner's luck," I say.

"Doubt it!" she laughs.

Her tits are not huge; I am guessing she's a 34B. But she is slender and proportional, and that is what really matters.

She stands up and slides her sweatpants down. She's completely bald down there. I love that.

"You shave too?" I ask.

"I do before I'm gonna have sex."

"So you did that for me?"

"Uh-huh," she says. She kisses me, slipping her tongue into my mouth.

"Are you gonna get undressed, or what?" she says.

Holy shit! I almost forgot!

I pull off my jeans and shirt. She looks down at my boxers and laughs.

"Are you gonna fuck me with your boxers on?"

"I was hoping you'd pull them off for me." She does.

"You have a NICE, big cock," she says.

Although I'm not tiny, I'm not impaling anyone, either. But after the toothpick-dick that she was used to, anything would look monstrous.

I open up the condom and roll it down. It actually feels really good going on.

I start to get up when she straddles my legs, lowering herself on to me.

I like to watch a girl's face as I penetrate her for the first time. I love the look of uncertainty, the idea that she doesn't know quite what to expect, mixed with the pure lust of being fucked by someone new.

Her eyes roll back; her lids close slowly. "God, I am SO fucking horny!" she says as I enter her.

She may not have had sex in a while, but she has definitely not forgotten how to ride a guy. I watch in ecstasy as her hips slide rhythmically, back and forth, back and forth.

She pulls up slightly, and I see my cock buried inside her. Her crotch is slippery and wet all over.

I press my thumb against her clit and hold it there, letting her thrusting do the work.

"OHHHHH," she moans. "Holy shit-"

I pull out of her. I have not had sex in a while, and I am gonna make this one count.

I stand up and walk behind her. She knows what I am going to do, and she lowers herself down on all fours.

I kneel behind her, between her legs, and take my cock in my hand. It is wet and gooey, covered in her juices. I slide it slowly underneath her until I find her opening, then push it inside.

She is tight. I can feel her flesh stretching against my girth. She stands up on her knees, turns around, and kisses me.

I pull her ass cheeks apart and brush my finger against her tight little asshole. It's tiny, no bigger than an eraser on a pencil. I squeeze her hips in my hands, pressing my thumbs into her tight, round, tan globes. This girl's ass is OUTSTANDING.

Now I am really wailing away at her, harder and faster. She is totally quiet, except for a little whimper that escapes now and then.

I pull out again and push her hips straight down, and pull gently on her side so she will turn over.

I am fucking her missionary now, her ankles locked behind my back. She closes her eyes and kisses me softly, her breath quivering in time with my thrusts.

Finally I come, and it's amazing: It's pleasure, and relief, and yeah, it's knowing that I just shared something really intimate with someone that I like.

Yeah, I said that!