By Margo Perry  (margo707 AT rogers DOT com)
Copyright 2005 by Margo Perry, all rights reserved.

The ten men crowding boisterously into the elevator were the advertising team who’d won an exclusive contract with the hottest international courier service in the world. The clients had thrown a lavish cocktail party and the agency had followed it up with a feast fit for kings, from soup to Cohiba brandy and cigars. And they still hadn’t had enough; ‘they’ meaning everybody except me.
“Let’s have one last round at Molly’s,” Bill suggested.
“I don’t know,” I said, “I’m pretty . . .”
“Come on Mel,” Bill interrupted, “it’s your night. You’re not getting out of this!”
“Yeah, let’s go,” slurred somebody.
I was exhausted from the long days and nights spent completing the campaign and stressed out from all the attention I was getting. Sure, I’d come up with the idea, but I couldn’t have done it without the team. Why was I getting all the juice? After dinner, they recited my every accomplishment. It sounded like an obituary. And then, the worst, they asked me to speak. It was as bad as my valedictory speech at college graduation. I remembered hearing my name, dragging myself out of my chair and the long shaky-kneed walk to the podium. I relived the pain of standing in front of the room, all eyes on me. My heart pounded too loudly and I kept swallowing to relieve the choking dryness in my throat. I was terrified. I opened my mouth to speak and everything went blank. I didn’t remember speaking at my graduation and I didn’t remember speaking tonight. All I wanted was to go home. But that wasn’t an option. I’d lead the project to victory and now I had to follow the crowd.
“Okay, let’s go,” I said.
Outside, I turned up my collar against the abnormally bitter April wind. The boys began to sing an unrecognizable tune and I wished I had drunk more than one glass of wine. Well, it was a short walk to Molly’s and, with any luck, she’d be there with her bountiful breasts and curves and sweet motherly face. We were all crazy about Molly.
“You’re quiet, even for you. You all right?” Bill asked.
“I’m fine,” I said.
Bill was as outgoing as I was retiring and since the first day I’d arrived at work, four years ago, he’d taken me under his wing. I’d been brought in to head the department. I expected people to resent me for it. I expected them to look at my thick nerdy glasses, plain face, and slight 5’8” frame and snicker derisively. I stood there sweating while they introduced me. My face burned like it had when I was a teenager, plagued with acne and forced to answer a question in class. My face was now clear, but I could still feel the pimples, lurking just under my skin, threatening to explode. Bill was a towering 6’4” and startlingly handsome, in that Tom Cruise kind of way and I admired his coolness as he sauntered to the front of the room. Once there, he grabbed my neck in a mock-wrestler’s hold that had since became our trademark greeting and boomed, “Welcome, Melvin! We’re in dire need of some brains around here!” The whole room exploded with laughter and I immediately became one of the crowd.
Nobody had ever taken care of me like that, not even my parents. I was a mere prop in the drama that was their life and their love/hate relationship consumed them totally. They divorced when I was thirteen and I fell through the cracks into a boarding school where neither of them worried about me ever again. I still see them now and then, but they don’t know me. I don’t know them. And at forty, I still dream about them loving me, making me feel like I really matter. But they don’t and never will. Their love is only a dream.
Molly’s was hopping, every table filled with eating, drinking, laughing revelers. We settled around the bar and I looked for Molly. She soon came bustling out of the kitchen.
“Hello boys,” she said, flying past us with a tray full of food.
“Hello Molly,” we chorused back.
A wild mop of red curls cascaded over her shoulders and down her back. We could feel, rather than see, the warm smile exuding from her freckled face. I’d caught a glimpse of her monstrous breasts, bulging tantalizingly out of her low-cut emerald bodice, and my heart was already smiling.
“Kinda’ late, aren’t you?” she asked, returning to the bar.
“Yeah, we’ve been celebrating a real coup, thanks to Melvin here. He’s made us look real good,” Bill enthused.
“Good stuff. Can I get you the usual?” Molly asked.
“Perfecto,” Bill answered.
Molly began to uncap bottles of Heineken.
“Here’s to you, Melvin,” Bill said, toasting with one hand and slapping my back with the other.
“To Melvin,” came the chorus.
“Thanks,” I muttered. Bottles were clinked all round and I slipped gratefully out of the circle toward a stool that stood waiting at the shadowy end of the bar.
“Take my boy a glass of wine,” Bill said Molly. “He’s not really into beer.”
I wished he hadn’t said anything. Everybody else was guzzling beer and I felt like a fool being singled out. But, he was still taking care of me despite the fact that pretty girls were already mingling with the guys and Bill had two hanging all over him. I really couldn’t complain.
“Here you go tiger!” Molly said, five minutes later. “Here’s to the man of the hour.”
She lifted a wine bottle from the iced bucket and slowly and ceremoniously began to uncork it. The noisy laughter and chatter didn’t diminish, but it seemed to recede in the distance as I became more and more aware of Molly’s presence, Molly’s breasts, Molly’s attentions. She wore the generous curves of a woman who had lived life beyond the surface good looks of youth. Her beauty was steeped in an intense sensuality that made her the object of all men’s desire. She knew things that we didn’t want her to know, beginning with how helpless she made men feel. How much we wanted her. I knew she knew because of the way she’d nestled the bottle of wine in her cleavage, despite its cold wetness. “Ooooh,” she whispered. And I couldn’t resist her. My eyes devoured the sight of her and my cock tingled and grew. She adjusted the bottle, laying it across the mounds of her breathing flesh, and continued to unscrew the cork, slowly and deliberately. Her eyes were now locked into mine. And I was lost in her. My cock might have been that cork and her pussy that bottle’s neck. That’s what she was making me feel as my balls tightened and my cock insinuated itself against the cotton of my briefs. Her eyes moved back to her chest, taking my eyes with hers, and a magnetic field was created from which there was no escape. I stared at her tits shamelessly.
“There,” she said finally, sniffing the cork. She did it without finesse. She did it like it held the smell of a male and she was a cat in heat. She poured wine into a glass, slowly and carefully. She passed it to me and as I reached, changed her mind. She puckered her lips and sipped. She traced her lips with her tongue. “There,” she said, again passing it to me. “Now, you try it,” she suggested, leaning onto the bar and hugging her tits to overflowing.
“Thanks,” I said, no longer caring that my hands shook as an erotic surge coursed through my body and pre-com wet my pants. Her smile was triumphant, as I gulped like a horny teenager. “It’s fine,” I said. “It’s really good.”
She didn’t answer. She just stared deeply into my eyes. I didn’t know what to do, so I fumbled for my wallet.
“No, no, baby,” she cooed. “Your money’s no good in here tonight.” Molly straightened up, ran her hands back and forth across her breasts, and blew me a kiss. “Just enjoy,” she said softly.
I watched her walk away, hips swaying, her beautiful breasts peeping side to side. Real time had been eclipsed by Eros Time in which this moment was all that existed. And I was happy. I marveled at her efficiency as she filled orders, calculated tabs and collected money and credit cards. Bill and the gang, the three other waitresses, in fact everybody in the room had become shadows that existed in an alternate universe. Molly was the only real thing to me and it fascinated me to watch her moving between worlds. A man in an expensive suit grab onto her hand as she offered him his change. She smacked him playfully with her other and he retreated, smiling. Everything about her encouraged a comfortable ease which, once relaxed into, became charged with a compelling, sexual energy. She held all men in the palms of her hands and I watched as they flirted with her, ogled and lusted after her with alcohol induced abandon. I wanted to be back in the center of things, just to be near her. But I knew I’d get lost in the crowd, become a shadow person. No, it was better to enjoy her from my safe place.
I sipped my wine and relaxed, enjoying my horniness, storing away images of Molly that would fuel amazing sexual fantasies later that night. I loved being horny and I loved masturbating because I owned the experience; because it never let me down. A woman a few stools away began whispering in a man’s ear. There was no familiarity between them, only the strange excitement of the hunt. I watched as her tongue snaked into his ear and felt a tingling in my cock as she moved from ear to mouth and a kiss that promised a night full of possibility. Molly chuckled knowingly, as she set down their change tray. My eyes gleefully traced the outline of Molly’s silhouetted tits. I wondered what it would be like to test their spongy texture, form and weight. I could feel the pressure in my balls heightening as I imagined her bra, imagined breasts bursting out of her bra. I wanted to be invisible. I wanted to look at Molly and play with my dick, let my imagination go wild. I wanted to go home. Wrap the image and essence of Molly tight in my mind and take her home with me. Take her home with me. Be the kind of man who could really take her home with me.
“Last call. Last round,” Molly announced, gesturing at the large round clock behind the bar. It was 12:50.
“Hey, Mel,” Bill said, striding toward me. “How you doin’?”
“Fine,” I said.
Bill put his arm around my throat. I felt his friendship. I could more than hold my own work-wise, but I was a social misfit. Bill made sure that I was included in everything, invited everywhere. And at least once a month, we’d have dinner and drinks together. He knew my life story. I knew his. And we liked each other very much.
Molly suddenly appeared in front of me. She took the bottle out of the bucket. “You’re going to need some help with this,” she said, reaching for a glass. She refilled my glass and poured another. “To you, Melvin, and congratulations,” she said her voice a soft, husky drone. She took a sip and then she was gone, back to her whir of activity.
“Boy, she’s something,” Bill said. “I’ve been trying to get a date with her for months now. She’s a widow you know. Her husband died about nine years ago and she inherited this place. Every guy I know has tried, but . . . no luck. I’ll never give up. Maybe I can persuade her to go grab a bite somewhere.”
“Good luck,” I said, but I didn’t mean it. Bill had invaded my dream world and was threatening to destroy it. He moved away from me toward Molly and I escaped resentfully back into my glass of wine.
There was a flurry, an exodus and the room became suddenly quiet. Waitresses cleared tables and checked out. Two guys at the other end of the bar were putting on their coats. A couple got up from their table and headed for the door. And Bill was talking earnestly to Molly. They were holding hands. “Okay,” I heard Bill say.
And my heart broke.
“Let’s go,” Molly announced to the room. “You’re all outta’ here.”
“All except Bill,” I said bitterly to myself. “I gotta’ get out of here.”
Bill was moving toward me. I didn’t want to talk to him, but I didn’t know how to avoid it.
“You ready?” Bill said, taking me by surprise.
“He’s not,” Molly said, appearing out of nowhere. She sipped from her glass and smiled the smile of angels. “You can trust me. I’ll take care of your friend.”
My head began to swirl and I felt like I’d been launched into space. I couldn’t feel my body. I was all mind and confusion: disbelief, desire, hope, fear, horniness and desperation. And for a non-religious type, I prayed, “Please God let this be real.”
“I don’t think I can trust you, Molly,” I heard Bill saying, “but it’s all good.” Bill laughed and lightly punched my shoulder. “You lucky son-of-a-bitch,” he whispered into my ear. “Catch you later.”
Molly laughed and followed him to the door. She waited as the few stragglers followed him out and locked the door behind them. “Peace at last,” she said, laughing heartily. “Come with me,” she said, grabbing my coat from the rack.
I jumped off the stool, following her to the back of the bar and through a door, like an enthusiastic puppy. She doused the lights and led me down a short corridor. We ended up in a small apartment. “My home away from home,” she said, gesturing to a couch.
I sat while she disappeared into the kitchen returning with a tray that held another bottle of wine, glasses and a platter. Molly had a sense of humor. On the tray, piled in the shape of two breasts, were one pink and one brown paté mound, each topped with brown olive areoles. She had planned this!
“I couldn’t resist,” she said, placing the tray in front of me. We both laughed out loud. She poured the wine and then dipped a cracker in the pink mixture and held it to my lips. “Crab and salmon,” she said. I opened my mouth and she fed me. I could feel my cock growing. I could feel myself submitting to whatever was to come. She held up a glass and toasted, “To tonight and us.” We clinked glasses. “I’ll be back,” she said.
I watched the bounce of her tits as she turned and the sway of her hips as she moved across the room. She was so female, so primitively certain of her own sexuality. Without thinking, I massaged my erection through my pants. It felt so good. I slouched down on the couch and opened my legs to better get at my balls. I was in heaven.
“Oh my,” Molly said. “You have made yourself comfy.”
I’d been so lost in my own pleasure that her voice startled me and I stopped and sat up guiltily. Molly stood in front of me dressed in a lace green teddy, matching stockings and stiletto heels. Her enormous breasts and cleavage, her seductive stance were the stuff of my most enduring fantasies. I was speechless.
“What do you think?” she asked.
“Think?” I repeated stupidly.
“Yes, on a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate me?” she asked.
“13?” I seemed incapable of making a statement. I didn’t trust myself to think or speak. If she were a wave, I was in over my head and drowning.
Molly began to turn in a slow circle, posing as she went. First, she lifted her curls over her head with one arm while shifting her shoulders, hypnotizing me with the sway of her breasts. She turned a little more and bent over, presenting her ass, twisting her torso to display her tantalizing tits to best advantage. I wanted to grab her, but I couldn’t move. I wanted to pull out my cock and get to it, but I couldn’t move. She danced slowly toward me and sat, draping one luscious leg over mine. I could smell her perfume. I could feel her leg against my crotch. I could smell her femaleness.
“How many men would want to be in your shoes tonight?” she asked, unbuttoning my shirt. Her fingers moved with pickpocket lightness. The hair stood up on the back of my neck and tingling currents coursed just under my skin.
“All of them,” I said. “All of them wanted to be with you.”
“Why did I pick you?” She was twisting my nipples. How did she know that they were super-sensitive, that they were directly connected to my cock and balls?
“I don’t know? I don’t know why you picked me.”
“That’s no answer,” Molly said firmly. She stood, stepped over and straddled me. Volcanic lava began to fill my cock and balls, spread through my body as the force that was Molly moved relentlessly toward me. I could feel her breasts against my puny chest. Her eyes were seductive slits. Her mouth was moving closer. I felt like a wanted thing, about to be devoured. “Think,” Molly said. “I want an answer.”
And she began to kiss me, lightly. Her lips and tongue fluttered like the wings of a gentle bird. My lips and tongue responded. She became more insistent, her tongue exploring my mouth deeply and wetly. She began a darting rhythm that moved through her mouth and into her whole body. Her tits were bouncing against me. Her pussy was moving across and around my leaking cock. I thrust against her, because I had to. She finished the kiss and pulled my head into her breasts, smothering me with her tits. “I’m going to come,” I gargled into her flesh. No,” she said, almost harshly, pulling my hair, pulling me away from her.
She stood up and I thought I’d die. If she didn’t come back, I knew I’d die.
“I want you naked,” she said, quietly.
As I fumbled out of my clothing, she danced out of hers. I’d seen my share of strippers and dancers, but nobody made me feel like Molly made me feel, as she slowly peeled her straps and then her bodice down, down and down: breast flesh, cleavage, aereole and finally nipples. Rib cage, belly, pussy, thighs, legs, feet. Flesh. Her bountiful, beautiful flesh revealed. And then spread before me as she lay on the floor and opened her legs for me. I moved so quickly that I stumbled, urged by the most primitive of sexual urges, lacking animal grace.
“Why have I chosen you?” Molly asked again.
I could smell her pungent want. I caressed her pussy lips and clit. I teased her with my hard cock. Molly began to growl and groan with pleasure and I knew that I couldn’t wait much longer.
“I’ve chosen you because you’re beautiful and sweet and the sexiest man around. If you want to fuck me, say it! Say, ‘I’m beautiful . . . ”
My cock had kissed her pussy lips. “I’m beautiful and sweet and the sexiest man around,” I heard myself say. I was thrusting inside her. Taking her. Taking this goddess of mine. “I’m beautiful and sweet and the sexiest man around,” I said again, watching her breasts dance and sway and lurch as she fucked me in circles, in straight lines, with wild abandon. “I’m beautiful and sweet and the sexiest man around,” I said, beginning to believe it, beginning to feel beautiful and appreciated and fine.
“Come, baby. Molly’s going to come. Come to Molly!” And I did, shooting my life into her, until there was no more. No more passion. No more liquid. Only an absence of longing and a peace I’d never felt before.
Her flesh was warm and nurturing as I collapse onto her. The silence that surrounded us was absolute and comforting.
At some point, she nudged me awake and we stumbled into a bedroom and bed. “You’re all mine, my love” she said, folding me in her arms. “I know, my love,” I said, suckling the nipple she offered me. I snuggled further into her. I couldn’t get close enough.