Chapter 1

She’d been wild and crazy the first time they met, both of them drunk at the sort of dive bar, too suburban to be a real dive bar, and too many semi-successful young people and no old alcoholic bums. She got up on the round table surrounded by her girlfriends, a couple of them already pared up for the night. The way she gyrated and the way her hands moved over her body, it could very well have been a strip tease before the large blond heavily muscled bouncer moved to her and helped her down. Though pouting, she accepted the assist.

Moments before that Lindy had caught him gazing, and not for the first time. Joe was ready to finally approach her when she decided to perform her transgressive dance, and though booze made her gaze less than focused, it mostly met his gaze. So, before the bouncer could possibly coax her out of the bar, Joe finally made his move. “Sorry,” he told the bouncer as soberly as possible. “I’ll take care of her.” The sober act seemed to work, because the bouncer nodded and moved away. Joe led her outside, and she pushed him against the wall, pressed herself against him and pulled his mouth down to hers. Her tongue soon slipped into his mouth and he could taste the sweet tartness of her margaritas, though barely. A certain numbness prevailed, him being drunk as well.

“I got a ride,” she finally told him, smiling up at him.

“I have a car,” he said, “but...”

“But what?” she pouted.

“Come with me.”

He took her hand, slim and long like her. She managed to keep pace and stumbled only sometimes while he guided her the two blocks and across the wide quiet street to a several stories high motel. “Need a room for the night,” he told the man behind the counter wearing the absurd gold vest of the chain.

“Any preference?” the young man asked.

“Anything with a bed.”

The man nodded, unmoved by amusement. Joe managed to fill out the form and gave the man a Visa card. The man gave him a couple key cards, Joe mostly ignoring whatever the man said, the room number on the folded cardstock all he needed to know.

Lindy pressed against him again and kissed him again in the elevator, but it turned out to be a short ride to the third floor. Numbers across the hall when the door opened guided him to the room where a king sized bed awaited them.

Lindy began stripping even before Joe had closed the door. He managed to stick the Do Not Disturb sign on the outside handle. When he turned to her, he couldn’t help chuckling. She’d removed her blouse, revealing a lacy cream colored bra transparent enough to reveal her smallish dark brown areolas and her nipples at the center, but her tight blue jeans pooled around her ankles, tripping her. Luckily the bed was behind her. Her safe plummeting made her giggle.

He knelt and unlaced her fashionable ankle high, low heeled boots. At nearly six feet, she didn’t need any more height. Removing them and her socks, he finished removing her pants. “Up,” he said, and she managed to lift her ass just enough for him to pull off her lacy panties. Pulling open her long, slim thighs, he leaned forward and tasted the sweet musk of her pussy.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned, taking hold of his head with her hands.

Like the rest of her, her slit was long and slim. Her clit too when his tongue teased it out of its hood.

It was his favorite thing to do and had gotten quite good at it, learning to gauge reactions for each woman. Lindy didn’t mind him being direct with her clit, possibly because of her drunkenness desensitizing her. And possibly the drunkenness delayed her orgasm, even with the moans and gasps revealing her great pleasure. Eventually though, plopping onto her back, shivering and undulating, her legs embracing his head along with her hands, he succeeded, carefully lapping beneath her clit and fingering high on her g spot to sustain it, even though her clutching him against her was making his need to breath more and more necessary.

Finally she let go of him, and while he took a most needed breath, she hopped off the bed and headed to the toilet. He did taste a hint of urine with her quantity of sex juice, but didn’t mind. He soon heard the rush of piss into the toilet. He sat on the bed and waited.

Hearing her hands being washed, he watched her finally emerge from the toilet, her arms reaching back to try to undo her bra. “Let me,” he said, and she came to him and turned around. He unhooked the bra and it soon dropped to the floor with the rest of her clothing.

Her body took his breath away. Her breasts a little fuller than her leanness might expect, as was her ass. A body of a model, except her face wasn’t a model’s face. Too long and lean. A horse face would be the insult. Her mouth a bit too wide. Her thin nose maybe a little too long. Her eyes though, large and expressive and heather green, had attracted him immediately.

Thick dirty blonde hair with a hint of strawberry just reached her shoulders, brushed back, the thickness seeming to keep it away from her face. The hair below matched, if a little bit darker and curlier, trimmed down somewhat and the sides shaved so as not to poke out the edges of panties. Around the pussy lips too so that the slim, slightly open slit stood out, and he didn’t need to suffer pulling pubic hair from his mouth.

“My turn,” she giggled and knelt at his feet. Struggling to unlace his tennis shoes but eventually managing it, pulling them off and his white socks. He’d undone his belt and his pants and unzipped so that he just needed to rise up to help her pull them off. His white jockey shorts barely restrained his cock, and in fact the tip of it could be seen above the elastic. Her hand pressed against it, and she licked the exposed tip before both her hands grasped the edges of the underwear. He lifted up once more to let her pull them down and off; his long, somewhat thick cock, all seven or so inches of it, bounced as if celebrating its freedom.

“Mmm,” she grinned approvingly before her mouth took in the glans.

“Yes,” Joe moaned. “Oh fuck,” he added when he felt her tongue attack. His hands reached down to take hold of her breasts, learning their weight and their softness. Gently pinching the nipples and getting a most delightful “Mmm,” in response. Those big hazel green eyes seemed to smile up at him.

Just a little disappointed when her warm wet mouth moved off his cock, but that soon changed when her tongue lapped at his shaft, wetting it for her fist before the cock returned to her mouth. After that it was all about tugging and sucking and lapping, all fast and aggressive.

“Oh shit,” he moaned. “Cumming,” he warned her.

Again a little disappointed when she removed her mouth. Understanding but disappointed. However, after steering his cock lower so that his first spurt splashed against her chest, she actually returned it to her mouth and began swallowing the rest of it. Both a touch of suffering the flavor and a touch of mischievousness could somehow be seen in those expressive eyes looking up at him.

Like her after her orgasm, he too suddenly needed to piss so that he pulled away from her and rushed to the toilet.

When he returned, she had passed out. Somehow he managed to shift the covers and top sheet down on the other side of the bed and basically lifted her to the uncovered area and covered her body. He stripped off his shirt and undershirt and climbed in beside her. When she turned away from him onto her side, he kissed the back of her head, sighed and relaxed. And passed out.

“Who the fuck are you?” she asked when he awoke.

“Joe Solomon,” He told her.

“Lindy Ryman. Did you... ?”

“No. All I can say was I was pretty wasted too.”

“But we didn’t...”

“No. Other things though.”

“My mouth does taste a little bit nastier than usual.”

“Yeah. Should we see if they have room service?”

“Okay.”

He got up and immediately put on his underwear.

“Nice,” she approved.

“Thanks,” he chuckled and went to the desk. “Looks like we need to go downstairs for breakfast. About a half hour left.”

“No time for a shower.”

“Nope.”

“Think you could...”

“Sure,” he said and went into the bathroom and pissed.

“Okay,” he heard and returned. He couldn’t help noticing her bra and panties on the floor and it made him start to get hard. He covered the result with his jeans, donning his shirt and shoes while she secured hers.

They kept quiet when they left the room, Joe making sure he had a key card. Only in the elevator did she say, “I could have done worse.”

Joe chuckled. “Thanks I think.” He wasn’t exactly ugly. A big head, but on a tall body made it less weird. Six feet six tall. A fairly long and bulbous nose. Smallish blue/gray eyes. A softly pointed chin at least wasn’t weak. Ears that tended to extend out covered by his thick brown hair that reached his upper back.

Broad shoulders and long arms had given him an edge in swimming, and he’d actually come in third in the state meet for both freestyle and butterfly and was barely edged out of medaling in the combination, breast stroke being too weak a stroke for him. And he continued to swim and work out at a gym since otherwise his life was pretty sedentary.

“So what do you do, Joe?” Lindy asked him once they settled down to eat their pretty terrible breakfast of scrambled eggs and sausage. Joe had stopped off to buy a couple packets of aspirin in the tiny store beside the reception desk and both had swallowed down their pills with some water. Cranberry juice and coffee added to their replenishing of liquids.

“Graphic artist mostly. You?”

“Nothing so interesting,” she deflected. “So you’re an artist?”

“I’m not sure artist in the traditional sense and graphic artist necessarily tie in, but yeah, I can draw too.”

“Cool. And you make a living at it?”

“Starting to. It’s a long story.”

“I’m listening.”

“Me and a friend from high school, Stuart Levy, basically made a promise. He’s a complete nerd and a genius programmer. We were also really competitive at computer games and he or I’d be renting new games all the time really to just check them out. Anyway he went off to the U of M to study computer engineering and I went to MCAD. But we were always working on our own game. I’d write the story and design the graphics and he’d do the programming. When I met a musician who composed electronic compositions he joined our little partnership and our promise. Which was once we start selling games, we’d quit school and start our company.”

“And have you?”

“Yeah. Just sold our third game.”

“Very cool. So you write the game too?”

“Yeah, I can write. I’ve done freelance work writing technical stuff. And I’ve been working on graphic novels.”

“Something from the games?”

“It’s too dark and personal and not enough...”

“Violence?”

Joe laughed. “Basically. But it does get a bit violent. So what do you do?”

“I’m between jobs,” she said.

“Ever acted?”

“Why would you ask that?”

“I don’t know. You seem sort of ... theatrical.”

She laughed. “Thanks, I think. I was part of the thespians in high school and tended to get the lead roles often enough. At least the non-singing ones. I can’t sing worth shit. Studied acting even at the U of M until I dropped out.”

“Why drop out?”

“It was a pipe dream Joe.”

“We could always use talent, Lindy.”

“You mean like voice work?”

“Yep.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Cool.”

Back in the room, she stuffed her underthings into her purse. They traded numbers on their smart phones.

“Are you going to call?” she asked both skeptically and hopefully.

“Of course,” he responded.

Once outside he quietly guided her across the street to the bar parking lot and to his four year old jeep he’d purchased recently. She seemed to approve.

Aside from the directions to her home, a nice if unremarkable house in the Minneapolis suburb of St Louis Park, they kept quiet. It was a weird silence full of glances and half smiles, the weirdest thing being the comfortableness of it.

“Your parents going to be okay?” he asked her.

“They’re used to it,” she said. “And being twenty-one, it’s none of their business. It’s like my own apartment in the basement, me and the washer/dryer.”

“Okay,” he could only say.

After one last glance, she smiled, “Thanks, Joe.”

“You’re welcome, Lindy.”

She hopped out of his car and walked around the house, waving to him before disappearing. He drove to his apartment, the bottom quarter of a duplex in South Minneapolis which he once shared with a girlfriend before she moved on to graduate school in New York. It was an amicable split, both realizing it had become less a need for each other romantically and more of a convenience, sharing the rent. She’d even had her own bedroom, although they continued to enjoy sharing his bed even after things cooled. Her room became his office, and even better there was a living room for his company to meet, and best of all, access to the basement where the equipment for their work could be housed, a high end computer with two side screen monitors and some musical and recording equipment Dave Segal, the composer kept there so as not have to haul it around. And Joe’s necessarily expensive digital printer for printing his own stuff. Both of his partners had keys and it wasn’t unusual for one or both of them to crash there on a couple old couches, one of which even pulled out for a not all that comfortable double sized bed.

Both partners waited for him in the living room.

“Shit,” Joe said. “Did I forget a meeting?”

Dave laughed. “It’s just Stuart getting antsy.”

“I tried calling you,” Stuart whined.

Joe checked his smartphone and realized he’d put it in silent mode. “Sorry,” he said, turning on the volume and attaching the phone to the recharger. “They’re not expecting the polished game for another week.”

“It still needs a lot of work,” Stuart complained. “Not just the glitches and the bugs, but the voice synthesizer stills sounds like crap.”

“And I’m still not happy with the music,” Dave added.

“And the graphics and the storyline need embellishing. I know. I know. But they’ve already approved it on spec and they know our resources are limited.”

“But if it was more finished,” Stuart pointed out, “maybe they wouldn’t screw it up like they did the last one.”

“And I’d like to copyright my music so I get the residuals instead of letting them alter it just enough to claim it’s no longer mine.”

Joe sighed. “They’re purchasing the rights and at a significantly higher price than the last one they bought. Even if we agreed they fucked it up, it still sold a lot.”

“For a better product this time,” Stuart pointed out.

“They’re buying your story and your coding, but not my music,” Dave insisted, gesturing to each partner appropriately.

“Okay. Okay,” Joe lifted his hands in acceptance. “Just give me time for the three S’s.”