oh yeah, part 2

by v gatrod

Posted to Stories on 2001-08-24 12:28:00

Parent message is 29061
Her first great love, Mickey, had died of stomach cancer in his early twenties. Linda had loved him very much and was very emotional about it. Maybe they had been engaged to be married I can’t remember. It was certainly more tragic than anything that I’ve ever experienced. Sometimes I visualized what Linda would have been like before the tragedy and how the tragedy would have affected her. I visualized a petite naive girl thinking that she’s too fat and not too sure of herself but very happy to be in love. Then her loss and I see her sobbing, crumpled up on a bar stool. Then afterwards, the sorrow has changed the light in her eyes, having dimmed the gleam.

After Mickey she had a relationship with a biker. Afterwards she found out that while she had been seeing him he had been shooting up heroin and screwing a prostitute. Years later she was advised to get tested for Aids but she never did. Next came her boss from her last job. It was supposedly traumatic and forced upon her – sexual harrassment. She had needed the money she said. He made her go in the stockroom once or twice a week to screw her or else lose her job. It went on for months I believe, I didn’t ask for exact dates. Eventually, she got him to stop. The boss was in love with her. Toward the end he would write her desperate love letters, hang out in front of her house all night and beg for another chance. The boss was a fool. Eventually, he got sued for sexual harrassment – by another girl – for merely propositioning her in the office. He lost his job. The company was close to bankruptcy and wanted to transfer Linda. She quit. For over a year she would go to the bar everyday that was managed by Mickey’s brother and watch soap operas and drink beer. Then I hired her. I was her new boss.

After the movie we went to a bar. Linda was an individual who could drink for an extended period of time. We drank and talked. She smoked her cigarettes. If Linda had one flaw, one reason why I wouldn’t marry her, it would be her two packs a day. The smoke was drifting into my face as we talked and it bothered me. I waved the smoke away and she apologized, saying, “well why didn’t you tell me.” She smiled. She had a friendly unpretentious smile, her lips were chapped a deep red, they were very warm and soft to the touch. She kissed very gently, with feeling. There had been nights in the past.

It was soon after she had started. She trusted me. I was her boss and I tried to satisfy the needs of my people. Her needs were very complex. She put her trust in me. She would get very drunk at night and call me and unload all of her psychological trauma. A few times she came over very drunk and upset. She looked a mess, her hair disshevelled and her make-up runny. I would hold her and caress her. She would spread her legs eventually with her clothes on and dry hump me with sinuous flexing strength, her genitals pushing up hard into mine with sensuous desire and practiced skill. I would plunge my hand into her dense wiry jungle and piston my fingers into her moist muscled center of sexual appetite. The pungent juices flowed over my fingers. But I would feel relieved when I ejaculated at this stage prior to escalation of intimacies. She had not come to see me for that reason. She took it as a matter of course and would thank me the next day for taking care of her. Sometimes I wondered how many times Linda had been fucked, how many guys had pounded into her. The girlfriend I had been seeing was new to sex, and Linda was quite a departure. As for me I was somewhere in between.

We went to another bar. She was getting lugubrious and talking about the clothes Mickey used to wear. I was getting drunk. I wanted to take her home and see what direction our relationship would take.

Men like to possess things. It may be their testosterone. If there is something that a man wants, especially something that another man has or has had, then he will try to get it. This may be power, money, material objects, land, women, or art. Society’s rules and moral conventions may hinder him and cause internal conflict and frustration. But sometimes this desire to possess will be overpowering and self control and rules won’t mean a goddamn thing. Men will kill and go to war to get what they want. They will smash and destroy things. They are very much like children.

We went to my apartment. Sometimes went I thought of Karen’s relation with her former boss it caused a burning inside my gut. If she really hadn’t wanted to get screwed she could have just quit. I wondered if when she was getting screwed regular by the guy if she didn’t enjoy laying there on her back getting pistoned in her wet cylinder. I resented it. Why didn’t she screw me? Then I thought what an emotional shambles she had been when she had started working for me. She had trusted me. She would call me with all her problems and I would listen for a while and then try to talk some rational thought patterns into her. I would tell her to quit feeling sorry for herself. She was much more in control of her emotions now. She no longer got out-of-control pitifully drunk. This was the way she wanted it to be. She was getting her life back in order. We were friends. We saw each other at work every day and there was not a person there more loyal and faithful than Linda. I resolved to be cool come what may.

The night was much like nights in the past, a safe pattern for her. I explored her pungent exotic constricting cunt with my hands, licked her very soft conical breasts and sucked her fantastic hard deep-red quarter-inch protruding nipples. I implored for true intimacy, but she held fast. I settled for the dry hump with her legs spread very wide. Unlike in the past, there was no relief that I hadn’t penetrated her. She was not as vulnerable. Though I wasn’t entirely satisfied my lust and sense of conquest were sated for the time being.

Linda was always tremendously honest with me. She claimed that she had not had actual intercourse since her bad experience at her last job. I hated talking to her about it or thinking about it.

There would be times in the future. They fit the trend established, with Linda wanting deeply to just be my friend. She seemed less and less compelled to engage in any sort of physical connection. Which was healthy for her I guess. I tried my best to be cool and be a good friend to her. I only wished that I could be more friendly to her and spend more time with her yet I felt constrained and pressured by my instinctual desire to possess her. And there was one rare occasion, probably unique, when we were both drinking and we let down our workaday reserves that had built up over the months and we both said to each other “I love you.” Of course that was soon buried by day-to-day occurences and chatty no-deep-emotion friend talk, but I still remember it and I suspect Linda does too.

Things change. They always do. Subtly, slowly, things change.