CHAPTER SEVEN
Tucker
The girl seemed to disappear into her head for a moment, her brown eyes going contemplative, shutting me out even though her body was still nude on the bed, spread out in its glory for me to see. It’s not that things were awkward, it’s just that the brunette seemed faraway, thinking thoughts that had nothing to do with our intimate session.
I decided to get things started.
“Hey, I’m Tucker,” I said, holding out my hand.
And she jolted a bit, looking at my big hand for a moment, staring before putting her soft palm in mine.
“Laurie,” she murmured, coloring a little.
Well, that was awkward. We were two strangers who’d just exchanged a shit ton of fluids while lying on a big queen size bed, and we were shaking hands like we’d just been introduced at a party. Um, yeah, awkward.
But I’m a guy who rolls with the punches, so I kept it going, casual, light-hearted, with some humor, oh yeah, a sense of humor never hurt.
“So how long have you lived here?” I drawled. I was completely naked but what the hell? I’d let her get an eyeful, appreciate my masculine form.
Laurie blushed again, this time trying to turn a bit so that the curve of her arm shielded her breasts, but I lifted an eyebrow as in, “Really? After all that?”
And the girl blushed even harder, but at least she stopped trying to hide herself.
“Moved in today,” she said ruefully, sweeping a hand towards the boxes outside. “I wanted to take a hot shower but couldn’t find any soap or shampoo so I had to call you guys for a special delivery. Guess it worked, huh? My soap and shampoo came,” she smiled.
I nodded towards the living room.
“Your package is the other room,” I drawled. “I dropped it as soon as the clothes came off, as soon as those jeans dropped off your bod. You always use jeans to cover yourself?”
And the brunette laughed then for real, throwing her head back, those curls a glorious mass down her back.
“The jeans were the only things I had,” she explained ruefully. “Honestly, everything’s super disorganized and shoved randomly into different containers, I probably have kitchen utensils mixed with books, it’s so messed up.”
“Well, you could have used the sheets on the bed to cover yourself,” I said, quirking an eyebrow at her. “Like a toga of sorts.”
And the girl colored again before smiling at me.
“I didn’t even think about that,” she admitted, staring at the pale yellow coverlet. “I guess I just grabbed the first thing at hand, and that happened to be my dirty jeans,” she said, pulling her mouth into a rueful grin. “Although these sheets are pretty dirty now too, I’ll have to find a spare set somewhere in the pile out there,” she sighed.
And I laughed a deep belly laugh then. These sheets were more than a little dirty, they were positively disgusting with our sex fluid. I’d come, she’d come, there were droplets of pussy juice and semen everywhere, not to mention the huge pool of sperm she’d been lapping not minutes before.
But there were more important things than laundry to think about now, so I tried to get to know her a bit despite the fact that we’d just fucked each other silly.
“So, where you from?” I asked casually. This was a pretty common question, no one was actually from New York and I didn’t think it’d set off any warning bells.
But this girl was different.
“Um, the Upper East Side,” she hedged, not looking at me.
Okay, that was fine. Being a rich kid from UES was no problem, you couldn’t help what you were born into. But I could tell Laurie didn’t want to talk about it, so I went in another direction instead.
“What do you do for work?” I asked again, curious about the beautiful girl. Her job obviously couldn’t pay much, this place was really small and old, although it was spic and span. But I wanted to keep things light and besides, New Yorkers always ask each other about their jobs, sometimes even sharing salary information with complete strangers.
“I work for the City,” she said softly, looking at me. “Have you heard of HRA? We administer things like SNAP and public assistance.”
Oh fuck. Ms. Holmes was a real do-gooder because HRA stands for Human Resources Administration and SNAP was the City’s name for food stamps. Laurie was definitely into helping the downtrodden.
“So how’s the job?” I asked. “You’re probably an angel at work,” I added, “So many people must appreciate you.” Because although I never talked about it, once upon a time my family had used food stamps, there’d been a few times when we didn’t have enough to eat and the extra had filled a much-needed void.
And she smiled at me then.
“I do translation work,” she explained. “There are so many people who don’t speak English but need help accessing public benefits, so I help translate signs and brochures into different languages so that we can reach all New Yorkers.”
I cocked my head at her.
“And which language do you translate into?” I asked.
She bit her lip.
“Spanish … and Mandarin Chinese,” she said.
I whistled through my teeth. Holy shit, this was one smart girl. If she’d said Spanish, I would have been duly impressed with that alone, being a one language guy myself. Shit, I barely even speak English sometimes, so Laurie was already one up on me.
But Spanish and Chinese? That was fucking impressive. The two languages are nothing alike and it only confirmed my assessment that there was a lot more to this girl than met the eye. Despite living in this humble apartment, she had to have a rich background because you can’t learn Chinese without going to some fancy immersion classes, without taking a trip to some Asian country. So I just whistled again.
“How’d you pick those languages up?” I asked. I expected the brunette to babble on and on about exotic trips abroad, how she had friends who lived in far-flung locales and went on fancy jaunts. But instead, she shook her head.
“Rosetta Stone,” she replied, referring to the tapes that any John, Dick or Harry could buy for a hundred bucks a pop. “I listened to the recordings over and over again until I was fluent.”
Now I was definitely impressed, revising my initial impression of the brunette. She’d been able to learn not one, but two languages from listening to tapes? Holy shit, that put most college students to shame. And as if reading my mind, Laurie nodded.
“Yeah, we didn’t have enough money for me to go to college, not even community college, so I went the next best route. I bought some tapes with my savings and just kept listening to them until I was fluent. I practiced here and there with my neighbors, the people who owned a bodega on the corner, and soon I was good enough so that when I applied for a job with HRA, I passed the translation test with flying colors.”
I nodded, really impressed. Shit, Laurie was the real thing. I’d come in for a quick fuck because the woman was just my type with a curvy body and horny, slutty ways, but I’d stumbled upon a gold mine by accident. The brunette was smart, resourceful, sweet, and not at all stuck-up, helping new immigrants access public resources.
And I growled again, barely able to believe my luck, but I had no time to process it just now.
“Listen, what happened was amazing and I’d love to chat with you more, but I gotta fly,” I said, checking my watch. NYC Concierge tracked us with a fucking GPS service and they could always see where we were, how long we stayed at each stop. And right now, I was already way over my limit, if someone was watching there’d be some hard questions to answer once I got back. “I gotta jet, okay? It’s been great, but it’s my ass if I don’t.”
And the girl nodded slowly, watching with wide eyes as I hauled my massive form off the bed, fumbling for my boxers, pulling on the grey jacket and baseball cap. Yep, I was just the delivery man, anonymous in nondescript clothes. But I didn’t want this to be fly-by-night, so I leaned down and kissed her, pressed my lips against her soft, plush ones, the pink pout opening slightly, inhaling the sweet scent of her breath.
And fuck, but Laurie was so delicious, so curvy and nubile on that bed, still nude, still flashing her tits and cunt that I almost ripped off my clothes and jumped back in with her, ready to stroke, to take, to devour. But I couldn’t. Fucking Homer from Human Resources was going to be on me if I didn’t get my ass moving, so I forced myself to stride into the living room and pick up my bag by the door, the canvas grimy and careworn.
The brunette followed me out, this time wrapping herself in a bedsheet, her curvy form only highlighted by the swaths of cloth.
“Thanks for delivering my package,” she said softly, those caramel eyes warm, limpid, nodding to the brown box lying on its side on the floor.
And I bent to kiss her again, breathing deeply of the essence of this woman.
“No prob,” I rumbled, my eyes alive as I took in that sweet, sweet figure. “No prob at all.”
And just like that I was gone, taking big steps down the stairwell as the door closed softly behind me. But what Laurie didn’t realize was that I had every intention of seeing her again. I’d made my delivery, sure, deposited loads of my semen onto her, spraying that curvy form with creamy, viscous white … but I hadn’t gotten into her body yet and couldn’t wait to begin.