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   He took another sip of his Captain and Coke, the sweet taste filling his
mouth for just a moment as he swallowed.  She had teased him mercilessly
about his somewhat feminine taste in liquors.  She of course had loved the
brandies, the scotches, and had spurned the flavored spirits that he so
favored.  No matter how hard she tried though, she could never convince him
to switch to the more robust alcohols.  Perhaps that was one of the reasons
she had left him.

   Work had been hard for him lately; he had taken a lot of time working on
his cases.  They had drifted apart a little during his time at law school.
He had known it, but been powerless to stop the inevitable.  The courses
were grueling, requiring him to devote endless hours to study groups and
research at the library.  He had gotten to know the librarian better than
he knew his own wife.  He had done all of this for her, so that they could
both have the life that they yearned for, and she had been patient.

   It would all be better after law school, they would murmur to themselves
wearily as they drifted off to sleep.  Everything would be so much better.

   It left a bitter taste in his mouth, the words, the false promises, and
the success that now was so hollow.  His hard work at law school had paid
off, in spades.  While not graduating at the top of his class, he had
gotten close enough to earn a coveted spot at Bertlemann and Sach's, a
prestigious, local law firm that paid very well and had advancement
opportunities that many would have sold their souls for.  When they had
first heard the news, they were ecstatic.  That night, the sex had been
wild and celebratory.

   But then the bubble burst.  He had to work long hours, sometimes just
sleeping over at the office in order to save the commuting time.  Usually
he made it home just in time to collapse lifelessly on the sofa as she
brought him dinner.  He could watch it all in his head now, the steady
decline in their relationship.  At first their conversation, as he wearily
ate, was lively.  But each night, it grew less so.  Until finally dinner
was marked by icy silences, that try though he might, he could never bring
himself to break.

   He had gone home last week, and found what he had been expecting for
awhile now.  The house looked as though it had been ransacked, with clothes
strewn about, plates placed in boxes labeled with her name.  On the
refrigerator was a note.  He still had it, crumpled up in his jacket
pocket. Now and again he would read it again.  She had professed her love
of him, but said it was too hard for her.  He could see water marks, where
she had cried while writing him.  He had slumped lifelessly onto the sofa
and had his dinner that night, too tired to even mourn the passing of their
time together.

   He had buried himself in his work then, hiding from the pain as best he
could.  He had sacrificed so much, but where, oh where, did he make the
decision to sacrifice her?  He couldn?t tell, and it ate away at him.  So
he continued to work, and God knew there was enough of it for him to be
buried in indefinitely.  But no matter how hard he tried to hide, no matter
how long he stayed at the office, eventually he had to return to that cold,
empty house, and eat dinner on that accursed sofa as the room filled with
the whispers of regrets and opportunities lost.

   So he often came here, to drown his sorrows as best he could.  The place
was smoky, somewhat dingy, but it had character to it, with the ever
present sports memorabilia placed on the walls, with pictures of local
sports heroes and foibles taking prominence over more nationally recognized
events.  The usual bartender at night was a tiny woman, with blond hair and
breasts that no doubt had been paid for.  She had flirted with him, quite a
bit, and had expressed interest in more than his money.  But every time he
had rebuffed her.  He just wasn't ready yet, he told himself.  Still, he
often found his eyes lingering on her, lingering on the promise in her
eyes.

   As he sat there, idly toying with his glass, the door opened, letting a
cooling breeze into the somewhat stuffy interior.  He raised his eyes,
watching through the mirror behind the bar as the woman entered.  The first
impression was that she was tiny.  Standing only around five foot four or
so, she seemed almost childlike, and her waiflike face, with its button
nose and light smattering of freckles beneath brown eyes certainly didn't
detract from her youthful appearance.  Black hair cascaded down in a loose
tumble around her shoulders, and her eyes, delicately shaped, perused the
room with a cool, brown-eyed gaze.

   He watched her approach, her loose, cotton blouse draped deliciously
over her curves, her pants hugging her hips in a most enticing manner as
she leaned over the bar next to him.  He could detect the faint scent of
lilacs in the spring as she ordered her drink from Cindy, the bartender. 
While she was waiting, she settled on to the stool next to him, and he
suddenly found his heart beating just a little faster.

   Stop it, he told himself.  She's nothing to you.  Remember Laura.  With
that thought, the taste of the rum and coke turned sour in his mouth, and
he motioned curtly for his tab.  Pulling his wallet out, he began to sift
through the morass of credit cards before finally finding the one he liked.
Holding it in a hand, he watched as Cindy returned with the lady?s drink, a
strawberry daiquiri by the looks of it.  As Cindy began to turn away, he
passed the credit card across to her, and she took it with only a slightly
suggestive smile.

   He could feel the woman next to him coolly watching him as the
curvaceous bartender rang up his tab and wrote something on his receipt. 
When she returned, her smile was most definitely?inviting, and she slipped
the pen and credit card slip to him.  As he filled in his tip and signed
the slip, he noted on his copy a phone number.  Looking up, he could see
the invitation in her eyes.  Suddenly, irrationally, anger overtook him. 
Crumpling his copy into a ball, he threw it contemptuously behind the bar,
got up, and left without another glance back.

   The night air was cool and refreshing, the slight spring breeze cooling
his troubled thoughts.  He paused in the entryway, letting the wind caress
his face, soothing away his anger.  Sighing, he began walking to his car, a
thousand thoughts tumbling in his head.  Remorse over his somewhat juvenile
behavior in the bar tormented him.  It wasn't Cindy's fault that he felt
guilty for being attracted to the other woman.  Why he had decided to
reject her in such a cold and callous manner, he couldn't answer.  He once
had been kind, gentle, courteous and caring.  All of that seemed to have
left with Laura though.  All of what made him the man he wanted to be
seemed to have left with her, leaving him to an empty house and a cold
dinner.

   He got in his car, a sensible, rather nondescript sedan, and drove the
few miles back his place, a small house perched at the apex of a curve in
the road, with a driveway leading into the garage/basement.  A small
mailbox, covered with frilly, painted flowers stood at the edge of the
street.  Laura had liked very pretty, frilly things.  As a result, most of
their house was covered in one form of lace or another, with pink a
predominant color.  He had often teased her about their somewhat gaudy
decorations, but she had always told him somewhat primly that he was a man,
and by default, had no taste to begin with.

   He walked inside, cutting on the light in the kitchen, the fluorescent
light humming as it came to life.  Opening the fridge, he found yet another
tv dinner and zapped it in the microwave.  Eating, he somewhat dourly came
to the conclusion that tv dinners would be the death of him yet.  Cardboard
mashed potatoes, a sirloin steak that seemed more mush than steak, soggy
vegetables, and a charred brownie formed his gourmet meal this night, and
he forced it all down as quickly as possible.

   When he was done, he shoved the dinner tray to the side, throwing his
head back on the sofa's soft cushions, and let the alcohol induced
weariness take him.  As he was drowsing, he thought he heard the door open,
and then she was there.  The smell of her vanilla rinse in his nostrils, he
felt her lips caress his, her hands lightly running through the stubble
along his jaw.  His hands rose up, caressing the skin of her back, finding
much to his delight, nothing obstructing him from touching her naked skin
directly.  He could feel her heat, when she settled down atop him, and her
kisses grew more passionate, her tongue emerging to trace the outline of
his own, the sound of her breathing quickening as his hands roamed closer
towards her bottom.  Her curves had been mapped by his hands so many times,
and yet every time he touched her, he found some new delight in her, some
new wonder that before now he had never noticed.

   She pulled her head back, and he opened his eyes and looked on her. 
Blond hair framed a face that could only be described as sultry, with a
mouth that seemed made for pleasure, blue eyes that smoldered as they took
him in, bronzed skin marred only by the pale lines that marked where she
had worn her skimpy bikini.  He drank in the sight of her, memorized every
detail he could, until he felt her hands wrap in his hair, pulling his head
towards one of her full, succulent breasts.

   He began raining kisses down her, starting at her collar bone, working
his way down and to the left, towards the ruby red nipple that capped her
breast.  He heard her breathing quicken as he began tracing the outer edges
of her nipple with his tongue, he could see the skin of her areola
wrinkling up and her nipple stiffening at the sensation and he smiled.  She
had always had sensitive breasts, and if he were patient enough, he could
make her climax just by suckling on her delicious teats.  But he had other
things on his mind, most notably the hard rod that was begging for release.


   He soon abandoned her nipple, hearing her moan in disappointment.  His
tongue soon started forging a path across her breast, once more heading
towards her collarbone.  This time he started kissing the sensitive parts
of her neck gently, sucking on the tender skin with abandon.  He could feel
her grinding her crotch against his.  Her wetness began soaking the denim
of his pants, and he moaned in excitement.  Soon, she had had enough of his
teasing, standing only to start pulling his shirt off of him.  With that
task done, she began running her hands over his well muscled body,
delighting in the small patch of hair that started at his belly button and
led the way down into his pants.  Soon her hands found the button on his
pants, and they were off too, along with his boxers.  She licked her lips
as she beheld his cock standing proud and erect from the thick tangle of
hair at its base.

   He groaned as she began kissing her way down his stomach, his hands
coming to nest in her fine golden hair.  Soon she was laving her tongue
along his inner thighs, his muscles contracting in sympathy, his rod
twinging in anticipation.  All too soon she obliged him, taking his cock in
one small hand, as she began to slowly lick the underside of it, from the
base to the aching tip.  His hands tightened in her hair as he groaned his
approval.  She continued to lick and suck at the delicate skin of his
shaft, slowly focusing on the tender scar tissue around his foreskin. 
After what seemed an eternity to him, she opened her mouth, and took him
into her.  The sensation of being engulfed by her wet, hot mouth almost
drove him over the edge.  It had been so long since he had felt this good,
and his hands tightened of their own volition in her hair, forcing her
harder down on his steely cock.

   She used all her arts on him, stroking him with her tongue, as she moved
her head up and down.  Sometimes she would pull almost completely off of
him, just long enough to flick his head with her velvety tongue, before
once more engulfing as much of him as she could.  Her cheeks caved in as
she sucked harder and harder.  His legs began trembling as the sensations
washed over him, and before too long he was pulling her off of him
desperately, trembling from the nearness of his climax.

   "N-not yet, Laura.  I want to finish inside of you," he gasped out.  She
only purred in response, twisting to her feet like a cat.  As she stood in
front of him, he found himself at eye level with her pussy, and he liked
what he saw.  Leaning forward, he grasped her hips, holding her still as he
began kissing her inner thighs, drawing nearer to her box.  She spread her
legs a little in invitation, and soon he found himself running his tongue
through her sparse pubic hair, her heat washing over his face as he drew
closer to her.

   The muscles in her thighs began trembling as he drew closer and closer
to her center, and when he touched her outer lips with his tongue, she
nearly collapsed with a moan.  He drew away from her long enough to stand
up and lay her gently down on the sofa.  She eagerly spread her legs for
him again as he knelt on the far side of the couch, kneeling down to run
his tongue up her slit, from the bottom to the top, stopping at the last to
flick her hidden clit with the tip of his tongue.  She gasped and wrapped
her hands in his hair, holding him to her as he began to explore her pussy
more thoroughly.

   She tasted somewhat tangy, and he moaned in appreciation as he began
sucking at all of her juices, stroking the inner lips with his tongue,
always flicking the clit at the very end of every up stroke.  Soon she was
trembling around him, and he could tell she was getting close by the moans
and gasps she was making.  She was always so sexy when she was first
cresting over into orgasm.  Lifting up just slightly, he pursed his lips
around her clit and began humming softly as he sucked the little bud into
his mouth.  Her thighs clamped down around his head, as she began moaning
and bucking under his sudden onslaught.  A burst of fresh cream burst forth
from her hole, soaking his face as he began to eagerly lick her clean.  Her
thighs relaxed then, and her hands gently pushed him away.  He looked up at
her, to see her breasts still heaving with the force of her orgasm.  She
returned his smile with a wan one of her own as he began licking and
kissing his way up her tall, luscious body.

   As he reached her mouth, she began licking his face clean, her legs
wrapping around his hips suddenly.  "I want you," she murmured softly, her
eyes begging him silently as his cock drew closer to her wet, hot entrance.


   Always one to oblige her whims, he sighed softly in pleasure as he
arched his hips slightly, slipping into her wet channel with ease.  The
sensations caused them both to groan and he found himself just sitting as
deeply in her as he could for a few minutes, unable and unwilling to
withdraw from her sheath.  Eventually though, need drove both of them as he
began plunging in and out of her.

   He began making love to her slowly, feeling her sheath tightening around
him.  Laying atop her, he started kissing her neck again, hearing her
approving moans as his tongue sought out all the parts of her neck that
made her feel good.  He could feel her body begin to move under his, as she
started to climb to her peak again, and he began grinding his hips against
her at the end of each stroke.  Soon a rush of moisture and a cry of
pleasure announced her arrival, her fingernails tightening in his back,
raking his skin as she became lost in the pleasure.  As she began to coast
down from her orgasm, he whispered softly in her ear, "I love you." When he
raised back up, he saw in her eyes, the truth.  No love was reflected in
those blue eyes, only pity and anger.  He shook his head, desperately. 
"No, I love you.  That's all that matters.  I love you."

   He woke, with the words still ringing in his ears, the sight of her
sorrowful gaze haunting him.  "Damn," he muttered softly, fervently, as he
rose and headed to the bathroom to wash up for bed.