by Frances Jones
(11/15/06)

She stood against the wall in the small, empty office with the lights off, shifting from one foot to the other. She felt her heart beating too fast, her palms sweating. She took a deep breath and told herself this was exactly what she wanted.

She thought back to the advertisement, posted discreetly on craigslist: 144 Burrows Street, Suite 314, between 9 and midnight. I'll be waiting for you. Suite 314 was located in a ramshackle building on a side street where the town began to bleed into the wilderness. There were few streetlamps. The last one on the block cast narrow slivers of light through the blinds, too little to reveal any detail of her face and form.

She wondered who would come. And, she thought with a shiver, she would never know who had.

A knock came at the door, so quiet she thought it might be her imagination. But then the knob turned and the door hinges began to creak; her heart was in her throat when she saw a man's dark silhouette in the doorway, outlined against the blackness of the night outside. "H-Hello?" he said.

"Yes," she replied, her voice uncertain and echoing in the furnitureless room. "I'm over here."

He stepped in and closed the door behind him. "Is this what I think it is?"

His nervousness shattered hers, and she chuckled softly, as though she were a character in her own play, the stage already set. "Yes. Come here." She untied the sash on her silk robe, letting it fall open, and reached for his hands as he came close.

He smelled good, like cinnamon and smoke. She placed his hands on her hips, pulling him close. "You can do anything you want," she said.

He pulled her close, his embrace sudden and firm. His shirt rustled against her breasts, his cold belt buckle pushing heavy against her belly. She made an uncontrolled noise: how quickly her idea was becoming real.

He knelt down, then, kissing the fur of her mound, and lifted one of her legs onto his shoulder. He kissed her slit deeply, sliding his tongue in, and she leaned back against the wall, shivering.

"You're already drenched," he said, pulling back only to press his mouth to her again. His growing confidence shone through his voice, no longer timid but time-soaked and deep. He wasn't large but his body was strong as he held her to the wall, his tongue stirring her, lapping. She thought she would come, soon.

In a single movement, he pulled back, unfastened his slacks and slid a condom on. She knelt, sucking him, and let him put his hands on the back of her head to push himself deeper. Her cunt ached.

He pressed her onto her hands and her knees; her skin ground on the old carpet. He entered her from behind, groaning loudly with each thrust. She came before he did, screaming.

She knelt there on the floor while he tidied himself. He slipped out through the door without a word.

It was only a few minutes before another knock came. She stood and smoothed her robe, pushing the hair from her eyes as two men came through the doorway. From their body language, they were young.

"Hey," one of them said, the other silent at his shoulder. "Are we in the right place?"

"You are," she said. "I'm here."

"We've always kidded each other about something like this," the bolder one said. "We can't believe it's happening."

They came close, one on each side of her. The talker moved behind and cupped her breasts in his hands, grinding his erection into her. The other stood in front of her and buried his mouth in the curve of her shoulder, sucking and then biting. She undid the fly of his jeans and heard the man behind her do the same to his own, followed by the crinkle of condom wrappers. She took one from him and rolled it onto the cock of the man in front of her. His organ throbbed as she did it.

The one behind her braced himself against the wall, pulling her back hard against him. The other hugged her. Together they lifted her slightly, scooped their hips, then lowered her so her cunt slid over both their cocks at once. She moaned, her body tense with pleasure, as they held her tightly and the two slippery cocks rocked in and out of her. The feel of them both, taut inside her, rhythms slightly mismatched, their breathing jagged in front and behind, made her lose herself, made her become all pleasure, all longing, all sex. All three of them came quickly in a flood. As they did, the men kissed each other deeply across her shoulder. And then they kissed her.

They held her until their breathing subsided, and then thanked her, suddenly shy, before letting themselves out.

She leaned against the wall and waited for the next visitor.

The woman did not knock before entering the office. She came across the room without a word, finding her unerringly in the dark, kissing her softly while she eased three warm fingers inside her.

She pulled up her skirt and lowered her panties to the floor. She took one hand in hers, molding it into a five-fingered cone, and slid it into her wet vulva. The two of them remained that way, standing and nearly fisting one another, their light kisses a contrast to the deep pressure between their legs, until both of them shuddered and came, quiet orgasms released into the darkness.

The other woman left her panties tangled on the rug. The door clicked shut. Alone once again in the night, she sucked the juices from her hand, and knelt again on the floor, languorous, dizzy.

It went on, in endless permutations: a girl and her boyfriend; three men, one of whom wanted her to suck him while the others watched and stroked each other; an elderly man who wanted to spend 15 minutes drinking her juices -- he must have waited outside for several others to come and go so he was assured a bounty -- a shy girl who had clearly never been with a woman before; a pair of Mormon boys who came waving literature but left disheveled and with grins on their faces.

She checked the clock on her cell phone, saturated, thinking of heading home. But then came another knock, and this time she went to the door to open it.

His tall frame in the doorway seemed familiar, as did his scent, but for this one night she was trying hard not to think of anyone in particular.

"Come in," she said. "You're last."

"But not least." He guided her hand to his already exposed cock, hard, and terribly large.

"Oh," she said, feeling her stomach flutter. There was something different about this one.

He pulled her into his arms, crushing her. She gasped as he pulled back, bracing herself against the doorframe. She could have sworn that he growled, low, his eyes flashing in the dark of the room, and she felt dizzy under his gaze. She reached into his pocket and, finding a condom there, opened it and used her mouth to roll it onto him. Her tongue flicked over him. This time she was certain of the animal sound in his throat.

He lifted her by the shoulders, pinning her to the door like a butterfly, pinning her again with what was slung between his legs. She gasped. His cock pounded her so hard the doorframe creaked and groaned at her back. He slowed to more subtle movements, then accelerated, quickening and slowing, again and again. She wrapped her legs around his thick waist, grabbed fistfuls of his short hair in her fingers, and held on tight, sure the door would buckle against their heat.

"I know how long you've wanted this," he said. She thought she might need to faint, just to make it easier to forget who he was. His thrusts came harder now, jerky and fierce, each one jolting a sharp cry from her throat. His hands bruised her hips. His mouth ground into her neck. His rough stubble burned her.

She'd been sure she couldn't come again, but he found it in her. She went limp, pouring like water over him. He continued moving within her, more softly now, until his own orgasm cracked free and a low sound erupted from his throat.

When his body finished shuddering he lowered her gently to the floor, lying over her almost protectively. She knew him now and didn't want to, didn't want to have him, only wanted to want him.

She covered her face and asked him to go, and he did. Just as he turned to close the door, she spoke. "I'll be here again."

"Then so will I," he said.

She lay on the harsh rug in the midnight stillness, the echoes of all those bodies inside her.

She wondered: would she be ready again tomorrow night?

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