Andre's apartment was especially quiet around this part of the week, he reflected. It was a Friday, and people were out.
People except him, that is. What did he have to do once he was done with work? Maybe he could go out and get drunk, but it would remind him of Chloe. His best bet for good times was staying in, alone and not bothering anyone. Someone had to keep the apartment complex warm for everyone else. And, besides. A Friday in couldn't remind him of anything.
The light of his TV bathed him and the leather couch, flashing color after color with the oft-tacky stylings of primetime.
"I wish there were at least some sports on," he grumbled to himself, noticing a tray that had earlier held a TV dinner. It was laying on the couch with him, only slightly more sedentary than he himself.
Feeling somewhat embarrassed at having forgotten it, let alone having left it there in the first place, Andre moved the plastic tray to the table. He should've stayed at work, he realized. He may be a produce manager, but he could help with plenty more things, and managers could choose to add more hours if they wished.
It'd be better than this, he groaned. He felt useless, and like a total slob.
It was getting unconscionably late anyway. Maybe it was time to go to sleep despite his lack of tiredness. He removed the throw pillow so as to lay flat with only his feet up. Andre had begun to doze, dreaming peacefully of artichokes, when two knocks sounded at his door. He looked up with a sleepy wince, unsure whether he'd imagined it.
He turned the volume of the TV down.
There it was again: a quiet knocking, tentative even.
Cracking his knuckles, Andre got up and headed for the door with adrenaline burning his stomach. A knock at the door after midnight was generally one of two things: a criminal, or someone delivering terrible news. And police knocked a lot louder than this.
Andre pressed his eye to the peephole, and was shocked. He swung the door open. "Hi Andre," Caity proclaimed. Andre's cheeks grew hot at the memories of their last encounter. He couldn't tell if it was embarrassment he was feeling or something else.
"Hi," he said, studying her up and down.
Her curves were hugged and thrown into sharp relief by a black denim dress. It was adorned with several studs, and zippers that might've been pockets, but were probably just there to give it a punky look. Her lips were smeared with purple lipstick, and her common black mascara was replaced with a glittery iteration of the same shade of purple. Her dyed red locks were trapped in a ponytail. Andre remembered how her hair had felt when it was trapped in his fist, and he felt himself getting turned on. He decided to focus on something else, like the stone pendant around her neck, but that only drew attention to her smooth, pale neck.
He looked down at his feet. She wore glossy black zip-up boots that went up to her shins.
A drop of what he chose to believe was rain rested midway down her inner thigh, the moisture just visible in the light from his TV.
"Going someplace special?" He asked, pretending to clear his throat afterward. The words had come out more seductive than intended.
"I was. I had a date but he never showed up. Take me instead."
She stepped forward and put her hands on his chest.
She must have felt his heart pounding.
Several sets of words came to mind, one of which was "If you insist," but he tried to choose reactions carefully.
"Are you sure?" He asked. Their relationship wasn't romantic, and frankly he couldn't imagine such a thing. But she was nothing less than appealing, and here she was.
"I brought condoms," she added. "Just in case you don't think I'm sanitary."
Andre stifled an awkward chortle. "I'll take your word for it," he replied, and dawdled an extra moment. One fling was one thing, but this would be a second tryst. And this time she came here specifically for it.
That fact alone decided for him, though it decided the opposite of what he'd expected.
He grabbed her hands and pulled them off of him.
Andre then wrapped his arms around her and kissed her passionately, forcing her mouth open. He nipped her lower lip several times while feeling up her ass with both hands.
"Are you always sub?" He asked.
"I can be whatever you want me to be," she replied breathlessly. "Now get this fucking dress off me. It's too hot for clothes."
"No." He guided her to the couch and pointed; half-smiling, she did as instructed and lay over it, face-down.
Andre folded her dress over, and Caity felt her panties slide down around her knees; the boots kept them from sliding much further without intentional removal.
"I hope whoever stood you up," Andre remarked breathlessly, "feels like one of those publishers that rejected a future bestseller. He might as well be one of them."
Caity smiled at the compliment, showing her bright teeth. She grinned wider as she felt Andre's warm tongue swipe across her butt cheek. He then allowed it to slide slowly from the first exposed inch of her leg to the opposite cheek. He kissed the spot that he stopped on, then nibbled it lightly.
Inside, she hoped he would leave her with a menagerie of butt hickeys, and other hickeys, too. Maybe even bruises. To her, they were like trophies when received like this.
He nipped her ample butt flesh several more times, then spread her cheeks with his fingers. She braced for not-so-gentle penetration; that seemed to be a favorite of his. Naturally, she was shocked when instead she felt his stubble poking the insides of her buttcheeks. He kissed her back door, drawing forth a shrill grasp of ecstasy. Her bottom was bathed in warmth at the tender touch of his tongue.
After a few seconds of anticipation, Caity bit into a throw pillow to quiet herself as he gently pressed his tongue inside her. Her chest heaved with several silenced groans of appreciation and gratitude; she was pretty sure her boobs were working out the top of her dress. Not that it mattered now.
The penetration felt amazing; better than Caity thought she had any right to feel in such a casual encounter.
Andre gave Caity's butt a parting kiss and then stood up, wiping the saliva from his chin.
"You eat ass now?" Caity asked breathlessly, as soon as she removed the pillow from her mouth.
He shrugged. "yours makes me hungry."
"Well it is fair trade and certified organic," she replied, quite wittily in her own opinion. Andre guffawed. "You're getting punished for that!" He pronounced playfully, and manually flipped her over. The friction of the couch against her dress really did pull her boobs free this time; her strapless bra covered one but its best attempt at guarding her modesty wasn't good enough. One nipple was exposed, and only just. Caity lay, booted legs in the air, with one nipple hanging out.
Andre was rapt at the erotic beauty of the vision in front of him.
"I hope you understand that I have to take a photo of this."
"Please do," Caity agreed. "I've never felt sexier."
He captured her from several angles with his phone, and Caity pretended not to be elated by it. Her sexiest moment in recent history would be preserved forever, and shown to who-knows-who if they ran across it. She found that fact more arousing than she should have.
As soon as he put the phone back down on the counter, he climbed onto the couch and straddled her.
"Now. What to do first?"
Caity saw his package bulging in his jeans, and could feel it resting on her chest where he sat lightly over her. If possible, it made her ache more. Although it was outside her generally submissive nature, Caity reached out and slid her hand down his pants, savoring his hard muscles along the way.
