Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 46943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46943 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
7
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.
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.
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.
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.”