In the farthest corner of a the parking lot, which was equally as conspicuous as it was unnoticeable to a casual passer-by, is where I sat in my car, waiting. It had been a few months and she, Cora, had moved on. To be honest i'm not sure what made me agree to meet her at this brewpub on this particular evening but here I sat. I purposely showed up early and knew by doing so I would subject myself to seemingly endless minute after seemingly endless minute. I chain smoked cigarettes with my driver's side window cracked a few inches. Inhaling deeply and casually blowing the smoke to my left. There were countless confusing and unanswerable questions about my intentions in accepting her invitation to meet this evening. I didn't particularly like her any longer. I suppose i'm just a nostalgic person chasing the past but all these second thoughts are getting to me. Maybe I'll drive off. Maybe I'll attend and purposefully be a dick to even up the imbalance of power between the two of us since she cheated on me. I'm not sure what the right thing to do is but I do know that the beautiful early june, sunny weather of this afternoon has made way to grey skies and light precipitation.
"Is that her car? Ugh, crap, it is." I thought to myself as she pulled in to the parking lot.
With all the torture of the past few minutes now being forced into one final, last chance decision I surprisingly didn't falter or hesitate. I drove from the far side of the parking lot over towards the entrance to the brewpub, put my car in park and opened the door. I dragged long, hard and deliberately on my cigarette as I exited my shitbox automobile and flicked the butt about 20 feet to my left towards a sewer drain. I exhaled and confidently walked over to her car.
She slowly pushed the door to her new car open and in that moment my bravado, my cocksure attitude, my artificially inflated chest, deflated. Those second thoughts were now bubbling back to the surface and churning into third and fourth thoughts with infinite branches spiking off in every which direction. It was like lightning in my brain and I wanted to puke or pass out. She gave a simple greeting which I didn't make note of and I mumbled something in return. We walked inside the brewpub.
I cannot remember much but I do know that we kept things pleasant. The possibility I left open for myself to be a dick and settle the score didn't seem much like the optimal plan any longer. We drank craft brew after craft brew, sampling the fruits of the local brewmaster's labor and things go in and out of clarity. I wasn't so much drunk or nervous but some concoction of the two. Suddenly, the friendly barkeep had to break the news to the two of us that this would be last call. He did offer to let us order another round and continue to sit as the staff cleaned up around us which we promptly took him up on. He brought over two more drinks and we placed our coasters on top and excused ourselves for cigarettes out back.
She had quit smoking. It seemed to me as if she had quit many things, myself included in that list, obviously. I couldn't for the life of me understand why but I guess I didn't mind. I was having a decent enough time tonight and the past has passed. I had told her that night that I forgave her. The truth is that I didn't but in the moment I felt like I did. Whether I did or didn't, didn't have any bearing in the real world anyway because she had moved on despite my blessing (or lack thereof) and I too had to move on. We lingered out back by the dumpster for a long while. I think neither of us had any idea how to end this evening because we weren't friends and the last few hours of chit-chat on the barstools wasn't real. The air hung thick in the way that only humid, sea air could in June on the east coast. She looked me in the eyes and then looked away. I looked left, dragged hard on my now smothering ember one last time and flicked it away.
I began to turn my head back to the right and suggest that we go back inside and prolong this awkward goodbye with the last of our beer but I felt a pressure at my waist. Cora was fidgeting with my belt and I froze. I didn't know, or care what her intentions were at this point, I just didn't want to fuck this up. She slowly got past my belt, button and zipper then pulled my pants and boxer briefs down just below my ass. I was at full attention in seconds and the brain lightning I had been experiencing earlier returned. She made a few slow passes of my shaft with delicate motions. She spit on her palm and rubbed it flatly against the head of my dick in the same way one would roll dough into a ball on a counter top.
After a few seconds she pulled her hand away and my dick hung in the breeze for a second. Her evaporating spit made for a cool sensation right at my most sensitive spot. I nervously looked around and took in my surroundings. There was a dumpster to my right, gravel and mulch to my left, some poorly landscaped evergreen bushes and trees blocking all view from left to center and vast, empty parking spots beyond the dumpster. I reached into my hoodie pocket and grabbed my cigarettes. I lit one as her hands returned to stroking me. I didn't offer her a smoke. I didn't want to. It felt good not to be polite to her. Plus, from my angle, her mouth was busy enough. My chest was once again inflating and not just with breath or smoke. My bravado was returning.
She played with my balls, rubbing them with both hands, squeezing them pulling them. I was enamored and engrossed with this string of moments. She may have been as well but that was of no importance to me at that point in time. She took my balls into her mouth and I could feel her tongue exploring the back side of my sack. No bit left unlicked. I imagine after a humid day like today the taste probably reminder her of a day at the beach. Salty. Sweaty. I laughed internally at the thought and blew my smoke down at her face intentionally out of disrespect.