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 "What are you doing here, Paul?"

   "How do you mean?"

   "It's a question that has plagued existentialists for centuries and here
I am expecting an answer from you." She shook her head, a wry grin on her
face.  "Why don't you join the party?"

   "Because I'm too busy trying to remember how many office workers are
fired for their behavior at New Year's Eve parties."

   She laughed, tossing her head back in the process, letting her blond
hair streaked with gray cascade off her shoulders, onto her back.  "It's
not a good sign when the filter between the brain and mouth is that badly
eroded."

   "You aren't joining the party either," I commented.

   She shrugged.  "It's New Year's Eve."

   We sat in silence for a minute.  "I'm wondering what amount of
pleasantry you're looking for."

   Shelia, my supervisor's boss giggled.  "That'll do, I think."

   At 24, I was strikingly attractive, with a face more pretty than
handsome, dark blond bangs that hung into my eyes and, well, calves.  Vain
enough to go to the gym four times a week, but not vain enough to . . .

   "I see you've shaved for a change," She said.  I smiled, blushing. 
Shelia blinked.  "We should get you out of here."

   She drove in silence while my head turned every few minutes from either
her to the window or the window to her.  "Can I cum?" I asked.

   She gave me a look that seemed to say, "God, I hope so."

   Disinhibited, I began to unbutton my shirt and pulled it widely open
across my torso.  Unbuckling my belt, I pulled out my penis, spreading my
pants wide to reveal my hairless crotch.  I began absentmindedly rubbing
myself, relaxing into the slow sensuality.  A hand in my hair, moving over
my chest, around my stomach, the other idly toying with my balls and cock,
not enough stimulation to get more than half erect in my drunken state. 
When I finally turned to see if Shelia was watching, she moved her eyes to
meet mine and muttered two words, "Don't remember." Pulling into a strip
mall, she parked in front of a packaging store and emerged from it a few
minutes later with a bag.  She dropped her hand in and pulled out two
airline bottles of whiskey and handed them to me.  "Quickly now," she said.

   I remember my head lolling off to the side while I masturbated, and then
there was a bit of awkwardness and inappropriate laughter on my part as she
guided me up the sidewalk to her house.  Images are hazy after that. 
Warmth, mostly, and a prickling sensation in throat, my over-eager
enthusiasm gradually eroded to desperate, docile, desire by a blur of
teasing and reprimand until I returned affection and pleasure givingly
rather than demandingly.  Her hands on my body, and her eyes, inspecting,
concerned, as she moved around me, touching me from all places at once. 
Lying on the bed, begging and whining at a near shout, "Please, mommy, suck
my dick." Again and again.  Her face hovering over mine, me feeling like a
baby bird, my tongue out imploringly.  Saltiness.  I came to, bent over her
kitchen table, wearing white fishnet stockings, my cries about how my
shitter needed her cock echoing in my head.

   "Can you cum?" She asked.

   "I don't know."

   She slapped my ass, hard.  "It's probably the only way to shut you up."
She pulled out of me and guided me to the bedroom.  The relaxed, satisfied
sense of having been well-fucked made the pillows and quilt feel especially
luxurious.

   "Did you?" I let the question hang.  Shelia smiled, lips tightly closed
in amusement and pointed to the clock.  "Four-thirty?  Holy God.  Whose
idea were these?" I asked, snapping the band on one of my stockings.

   "Do they really bother you all that much?" she asked, rising up my body
to kiss me.

   "I don't think I can get hard," I mumbled beneath her lips,
self-conscious.

   "You just need a half hour.  I'm going to get a shower." I lost
consciousness before I heard the sound of water.

   I was slow to rouse.  Lips kissing me, a hand fondling me. 
Instinctively, I rose and pushed her into the mattress.  Rising behind her,
grabbing her waist and pulling her hips towards mine.  Inside her, fucking,
the world still not making sense, I listened to her pant and moan.  When I
began to join her, she encouraged me with a worried tone, "That's it, baby.
That's it, baby."

   "Nooo," I whined, and came inside her.  Blackness.