Clair tapped her toe as she waited for the elevator. Quietly she hummed to herself and checked her watch.

Glancing out the door, she saw Jack still in the building loading area watching her through the windows from the idling Navy Toyota Matrix. Snow had started to collect on the roof of the vehicle and cars crawled along the street out front through fresh powder.

BING

“About fucking time.” She clutched her black bag against her black overcoat. Her red hair was down, but pulled forward over her right shoulder.

The door slid open and her boot heels tapped on the tiles as she entered the cab.

Tonight was a regular. Tom was a banker which, these days Clair figured was roughly the equivalent of a retail clerk. He called and asked for Clair monthly when his wife was off traveling for work.

The elevator stopped at the fifth floor and allowed her off. The thumping of another tenant’s stereo push hip hop down the hall. Clair made her way through the pumping beat to the red oak door numbered 507.

She knocked and waited…and waited…and waited. The hip hop beat picked up. She knocked louder this time.

“Sorry, coming,” the door offered a muffled voice. Another moment and the door dead bolt clicked. The door opened and Tom smiled at her from under a wet mop of blonde hair. “Clair, I’m sorry I was still in the shower.” He wore a white bathrobe with a hunter green towel tossed over his shoulder.

“Not a problem, Tom.” She stepped in and offered a quick kiss on the cheek. She walked passed him and undid th belt on her coat.

Tom locked the door and followed her into the living room. “How have you been?” The hall hip hop could no longer be heard.

She slipped the coat off and laid it over the arm of the leather recliner. “Good. Just was hoping we had seen the last of winter, but…” Clair glanced at herself in the full length mirror beside the melamine wall bar and television unit. Her white scoop neck sweater over a knee length black skirt. Her leather boots covered the rest.

Tom handed her an envelope as he walked back to the washroom. “Let me dry off. Fix yourself a drink, if you like.”

“What do you got?” Clair slipped the unopened envelope into her bag and then looked around the room as she waited.

“There is white wine or a Blue in the fridge. If you want, I was going to have a rum and Coke and could make you one.”

“That sounds good.” She picked up a picture of three people. Tom, his blonde trophy wife, and a boy of about five. The boy did not smile, and both adults had fake politician smiles. Tom had never mentioned the boy to Clair. “Where is she today?” Replacing the picture, she continued her tour looking at a wall painting by James Lumbers of ghosts.

“Betsy is writing an article in Boston this week.” Tom walked past her and into the open kitchen. He quickly returned with two dark drinks.

“Thanks.” She took hers and had a small sip.

Tom picked up the remote from a side table beside the couch and turned on the stereo. He sat on the couch, still in his bathrobe, but now with dry hair.

Putting her drink on the side table, Clair sat on the floor leaning on the corner of the couch seat with her leather clad legs curled beneath her. She tried not to roll her eyes as Lionel Ritchie starting singing on the stereo about dancing on the ceiling.

His hand brushed back her red bangs.

Clair pushed his bathrobe slightly open and her fingertips found his thighs. She stroked each, in turn, with the lightest of pressure.

Propping herself up on her knees, she shifted between his legs. Her hand found he was already hard as she kissed him deeply. She felt his tongue wrestling hers as her hand wrapped around his penis.

She ended the kiss and her lips immediately dropped to his cock. She sucked his tiny cock as deep as she could. Gagging was never an issue with Tom.

One of his hands stroked her hair while the other rested between her shoulders.

For two songs her head bonned to Lionel’s beat. Finally pulling him from her mouth, she locked eyes with him as he tongue juggled his balls. Slowly licking his short length from base to tip before taking him back in.

He moaned and closed his eyes.

She felt him tense for a moment before the familiar semen taste filled her mouth. She kept her mouth sliding on him until his cock stopped convulsing.

She slipped away and stood. Quickly into the washroom and spit into the sink.

Returning, she stopped and reached into her bag. Finding a condom pouch, she walked back over to him.

Tom sat, eyes still closed and a smile on his face.

She pulled the sweater over her head. Reaching behind her, she unzipped her black skirt. Laying her clothes on the side table, she stood in front of him with only a black bra, panties and boots on. She slipped the panties off, almost falling when they caught on her left boot heel.

She straddled his knees. Lightly grasping his flaccid penis, she brought it back to erection with two soft strokes. Then she slipped the condom over the tip and unrolled it.

His eyes still closed and the smile still frozen in place, his hands found her hips and pulled her forward.

She aimed his cock and barely felt anything as she placed him inside. She sighed for his benefit.

His eyes finally opened and his hands slipped up her spine. Pulling her close, he kissed her neck and rocked with her.

He needed no other position.

Her knees had almost had enough when he finally tensed. She intensified her own gasps to match his orgasm.

She felt his body collapse back on the couch. “I’ll be right back, babe.” She kissed him quickly before dismounting. Picking her clothes off the table and grabbing her bag, she stepped to the washroom.

Closing the door, she hummed quietly as she quickly stripped her bra and boots off. As always, her towel sat on the closed toilet seat. Stepping into the shower, the magnetic door snapped shut behind her. She pulled the shower head down and gave her chest and mid section a quick rinse. Back out for a fast dry, she put all her clothes back on.

As she came out to the living room, Tom gave a loud snore and his head flopped back on the couch.  Grinning, she let herself out quietly and had a quick ride down the elevator to where Jack and the snow covered Matrix were already awaiting her.  She slipped out the glass door and the crunching snow announced her approach to the vehicle.  Slipping inside, she buckled and lay her head back against the rest and closed her eyes.

“That good, eh?” Jack put the car into gear.

“Oh, Tom’s alright.  I’m just tired.”

Jack nodded.

“But I can get that PS3 tomorrow,” she said through a grin forming.

Jack’s chin dropped slightly.  “Darlin’, we’ve been through this.  Buy the Wii and you can give up that gym membership.”

She laughed as the grin was now a smile.  “Faggot.”

“Whore,” Jack laughed back.

He took her hand for the rest of the ride home.

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