Suddenly Stanley was torn from his sleep, mercilessly his body had knowingly awoken. Stanley rolled over, “6:58” he always wondered how his body could awaken just before his alarm, he wanted those two minutes back, for them to never end.
Sleep, could it be called sleep? He knows he spent 8 hours in bed his eyes closed, and a certain level of consciousness that was not what people would call “awake.” Yet his eyes and body ached as if he had just crawled into bed 2 hours earlier after spending the night wasting his monthly paycheck at a bar. Stanley needed just 4 more hours for his body to feel rested, yet knowing he had to move his legs to the floor and body to the shower for he certainly would never get that well needed time.
Stanley rubbed his eyes, crust still in them from the nights sleep. He could fee the sleep in his eyes try to assure his eyes and body back to bed. Still red, he continued to rub.
“eeeeeeeeeeehhhhh,” there was nothing more wrenching nor horrible to his senses then this sound. Even though his body had already resigned itself to the unfortunate knowledge that its rest was over, its half conscious state was so unmercifully awoken by the mechanical alarm, whose horrific sound was incomparable to the natural world. Even a fly buzzing just outside the ear unable to be detracted from constant swats was not as unnerving as his 1987 Sony Clock Radio.
“Are you getting up now?” she asked.
He looked over at the voice reviving a memory of what had occurred the night before.
“Yeah Baby, I have to go take a shower, do you want to come with me?”
“No, I am going back to bed if that is ok if I stay, I don’t have class for a while…”
“Yeah no problem…”
“No, I am sorry, I will get up make breakfast for you or something.”
“No don’t be ridiculous, stay in bed..”
“But I…”
“No no, my body would never forgive me if I allowed you to get up when at least someone could be still sleeping…”
Stanley heard the shower still running, he assumed his roommate was still in there….He reached into the back of his boxers and gave his butt the familiar morning scratch, as if to say wake up ass, its time to look beautiful.
How did he go from waking up after noon when his body was ready, days full, nights unending until 3 or 4 o’clock to this horrible monotony of alarm clocks and breakfast with the Today Show. Stanley longed for the time when he had to plan to get up for special events on the Today Show and would surely go back to bed when they were finished. Who created this system of unending days in front of a computer sucked away by unimportant monotonous job and a boss who needed to take away his small enjoyments such as music during lunch to make herself feel like her job was important.
Every morning seemed precious; he woke up, made it to another day. The way the wind played with the hair on his arm, the way the morning dew soaked the front of his brown Birkenstock sandals, the way the warmth would some times be eroded by the cool breeze of morning, or envelope his senses so muggy it would make it hard to breath. The way the summer morning smelled so alike, yet slightly different bringing its own individual pleasure. A scent he was convinced that despite the best efforts (and his continued financial support of Pier One’s labors) could never be properly canned into a bottle or scented candle.
It was this very feeling of summer mornings that were the very reason he dreaded them so much. While the beauty of the day continued, he was like a jailed prisoner. Occasionally getting let out for twenty minute runs or errands whatever you called them. He knew at the end of his walk awaited steps to a subway, and then a bus and then a building that imprisoned him all day. A reality that struck him every time fellow commuters quickly passed to much in a rush to make it to their desks to notice the morning beauty.
He cherished the summer days, and that was why it was so hard to get up, to go and waist days, hours, seconds, in front of a computer in the pursuit of so much meaninglessness. Sure if he wanted to he could convince himself of the significance and how his actions and job affected so many people.
But truth be told, his decision to step out into the world to walk that next block, would affect the outcome of numerous people’s existences, he didn’t need the pretense of a job to understand the importance of his existence at that moment.
It was this awareness that made him so sad, and made him so surprised that the world could go on, while so many moments spent toward meaningless endeavors were wasted. History is something that happened to other people, he and the people that whisked by him every morning would soon be forgotten unimportant in the history of humanity.
By the end of the walk Stanley would remind himself that he was a young man, going through many of the growing pains so often described in books about post-college angst and trying to find his way in the world. To be sure Stanley did not have a claim of originality when it came to these feelings, never-the-less it did not make this realization less numbing… nor did the knowledge that the question has been asked so many times before, comfort him.
He was drawn to the sky, captivated by the intertwined blues and whites painting the morning. Wind picked up, lifting his spirits in the current. It was natures hug, the warm breeze letting him know it would be ok.
“Excuse me,” his shoulder was jerked forward by a Kate Spade purse that had just rammed into his side pushing him out of the way. Regaining composure after being lurched forward he noticed the long pointy black shoes whose likeness to a witches could not be avoided.
“All you need is the broom.” She looked back for a second furrowing her brow to which he laughed. His revenge was in the knowledge that they would be on the same subway train that wasn’t going to come for another four and half minutes.
With so many people Stanly figured that their awareness of each other would rise. But instead the rugged individualism that characterizes too many urban commuters took over.
Just the other day he had seen two commuters try to use the same ticketing machine from opposite ends, completely unaware of the other trying to do the same thing. And inevitably when the machine did not respond they did not look up to see their human counterpart across from them, rather they checked to see if their technologically advanced cardboard was working correctly when the visual diagnosis was quickly completed, they moved to the next machine.
In a few minutes, his individuality would be raped, stuffed into a box and carried off to his cell. He understood why people were so frustrated, so stressed, mad at the whole thing.
The day before last, Stanley had been trying to make a train home, as had countless people who were in front and behind him on the escalator, As the trains came every ten minutes, sure it was unimportant that he made that one, but after a long day at work, everyone wanted to just get home. But there stood four obnoxious girls, rich with clothing, so much so that 90 degree weather warranted a layer of cardigan sweater to cover their apparently freezing shoulders and back (this of course did not stop them from wearing almost nothing above their knees, nor showing as much of their chests and stomachs as decently possible…) There they stood unmoving, unapologetically blocking both rows on the escalator as the subway train came and went.
This was not a judgment (ok so it was a judgment) these girls could have been nice women, but at that moment their clear inability to care about the needs of countless people behind them seemed the type of wrong that warranted a good vocal abuse… of course he like all the other commuters bit their tongue. Stanley’s blood pressure took hours to finally cool back down.
The whole process robbed him of his cool accepting demeanor and turned him into a commuting Nazi, who’s only concern sadly was getting to and fro as quickly as possible, he wondered what would happen after 10 years of this? Probably end up with the same lifeless look he was now accustomed to viewing while riding the public transportation.
His day was wrought with the meaningless of thought that plagued to many of his friends, and it seemed especially so with his coworkers.
“You’re late.” Candy loved to point this out loud enough so his immediate boss could here.
“I know the metro was running late and…”
“My mother and I think that the reason you are late is because you think that when you get to the bus you are already here.”
“I know when I am on the bus, I am not here, the bus comes when it comes, I have to wait for it.”
“Why don’t you leave earlier?” You could tell the 8 minutes that separated his entrance from 9, was really bothering her. Something about this just made him snap, here stood Candy so proud of her self-aggrandizing as if there were a morality in being in at 9. All of those people convinced of the importance of their employment that they would run him over as he made his way every morning. He had to breathe to keep from strangling her (as if he could get his hands around her neck) she flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder.
“If I had a job, I would have a problem being late EVERY morning.”
“You do have job,” Stanley retorted… “And its just 8 minutes, if I left 15 minutes earlier I would still get here at the same time, I would have to leave 30 minutes earlier just so I could get here on time… ITS JUST 8 MINUTES, I am sorry that your life is so negatively affected by this.”
“I just think you should be on time.”
“You know if you were in a different country this would not even be an issue, maybe you should travel see the world, that would give you some perspective so you would realize that it is 8 MINUTES. Every day it is the same thing, it is just 8 minutes… see the world, find out what is important and why you are ridiculous… you know you would figure you would have more sense seeing as you are from the south..”
“I am from TEXAS, and we can be on time for work in the south.” Stanley loved the way people from Texas would say that as if you should be impressed.
“It’s not as if you are NEVER late for work.”
“You have NEVER beaten me to work.” Candy raised her voice again so his boss could hear her.
“Why do you have to exaggerate something you know not to be true just so you can sound better at my expense,” Stanley knew he had her nailed. But even the satisfaction of beating her at her own game could not subside all the anger he had at that moment.
How does he do this everyday, buck up they say, this is life… Wow, life huh? The thought instantly cloaked Stanley in a feeling of emptiness. What is the alternative, is there some magical world that awaits Stanley that is so much better? Stanley loved to romanticize what he didn’t know or experience… Yet he knew.
Stanley was certain that other existences were similarly as meaningless…
He was young what does he know… Stanley hoped nothing because to be right, was a much more depressing reality.
StanleyCS35: “so this 75 year old millionaire led a double life with 2 families, children with both and everything… for like YEARS…they only lived 20 miles apart in Albuquerque, NM and even served on the same head board for their children’s rich private school…”
It was never to early to avoid work. Feeling especially annoyed at having to be crammed inside on such a day, Stanley began his work avoidance routine earlier than usual. Having caught up on all the news not worth knowing he was now sharing this wonderful story with a friend who was equally eager to avoid work by talking on Instant Messenger.
FlyShorty410: “I know…I read that”
StanleyCS35: “That’s fucked up man”
FlyShorty410: “Isn’t that crazy!!!!”
StanleyCS35: “although impressive…very impressive.” He repeated in his best Darth Vader voice as he waited for FlyShorty410 to reply.
FlyShorty410: “I thought that was crazy that he could lead that kind of double life, and the only reason they found out is because he married the other woman only 2 weeks after the other wife’s death.”
FlyShorty410: “I know…that’s what you want, right?” Stanley could here his ex in his head. The cynical voice were she slowed her words as they came out making it a point to add a certain disdain at the end of the sentence.
StanleyCS35: “Oh yes, I secretly converted to Mormonism in hopes years ago, and just waiting to move to Salt Lake when they finally make it legal again…”
StanleyCS35: “No, I just want lots of women around the country carrying my children. I don’t want the responsibility of a family, let alone TWO.”
FlyShorty410: “LOL” (laughs to self) “True true”
StanleyCS35: “That’s a lot of stress on a man”
FlyShorty410: “No kidding, but it helps to have TONS of money”
StanleyCS35: “Yeah, still really amazing. SAMANTHA… lets make babies”
FlyShorty410: “Nice, I think we have been down this road. Sucks for the children though, can you imagine being lied to like that?”
StanleyCS35: “I think at first I would be shocked, upset… then like YOU GO DAD”
FlyShorty410: “Very nice, he would have taught you well…. I would’ve been pissed.”
StanleyCS35: “Oh no, I would be like, I have so much to learn from you father if only I had known”
FlyShorty410: “Sick”
The timing of the article had felt of cosmic purpose. He had never been a cheater, a “serial monogamist” or “serial dater” his boss had described him. But there was that urge, that primal desire to have that type of choice, to be here or there, never getting stale. It was like permanently having two mistresses, and not just as lovers, but as families. The joy of difference all the time, it was an intriguing thought. But the stress of always worrying about being found out was tiresome. The families had the same lives so close in proximity to each other, serving on the committee for at the same school.
Did he never attend parent-teacher conferences? Go to social events with them? To the movies, for G-d’s sake, I mean somewhere where his double identity might be discovered? The best part was that he was in Albuquerque’s social elite, so his wife that died was in the news and in the fashionable circles?
Stanley’s mind tried to wrap itself around the depth of deception such a double life might take; “simple amazing” he thought. It’s hard enough to be happy and satisfy one woman at a time but two families? Maybe that was the beauty, all the time away from business, he never had to really deal with the life and work of a family… Sure a little, but he always had a foot out the door, a fall back, never having to truly let himself fall into the relationships. “Sick?”
Again the cosmos reared their ugly head. The mistress, the second girlfriend Joy called.
“We on for tonight?”
“Yeah what do you want to do?”
“Just come over and hang out.” Her one track mind was part of her appeal. Joy had a certain intoxicating salaciousness about her. There was nothing striking, nothing disproportionately out of place that made her alluring. No, she had a simple sensuality that art has always struggled to properly capture and throughout history had drawn simple men like him into trouble. Everything about her was sexual, and embracing her gift, she was only really about sex.
Instantly Stanley heard Fiona Apple in the forefront of his brain, “Heaven help me for the way I am.” Even though Joy was droning on, his attention was diverted from the phone conversation. There she was a few feet from his head, watching over him and his computer with that smile. Eyes wide with excitement, her short brown hair ruffled in all of its glory, he had captured Cecelia’s laughing in one of those small beautiful moments not often accurately depicted in an 8×10.
His stomach reminded him of his self-conscious displeasure for the current situation. Punching him from the inside. “Sick”
Luckily he was relieved of that tension and struck with an equally familiar and awful feeling. He knew that march, those sounds of feet walking together in that manner. It was amazing, when Stanley was going to get yelled at he knew, he could sense it like a bad bowel movement. In she walked with the certain, I am going to belittle you for nothing march. As if her smug entrance was not enough, the look on her face was sure to tell him how much of an idiot and disappointment he was for forgetting a vowel, or making one little correctable mistake.
“What is this, why would you do that?”
“Do what?”
“This, This”
“Oh, that is how you told me to do it”
“No I didn’t I would never do that”
“Yeah you did just last week see, it’s how we did it, it’s even in the survey.”
“Oh my g-d, I can’t believe you did that, now that’s in there”
“But you said,”
“Well do it right this time. Like this, without the question mark.”
Last week it was with the question marks, this week without question marks. Stanley wanted to know what type of person got off belittling employees because they did/didn’t have a correct question mark?
“Question mark this, ass.” At least that is what his brain said, he remained quiet stead-fastly focused on the screen trying to repair the irreparable harm of 4 question marks when they could be periods (even though they were indeed questions, I guess that just a pesky detail not to get in the way of the daily self-esteem boost his boss gets from the anal-retentive belittling)
“And this what is this? This is not correct”
“Yeah it hasn’t been correct since we got it, it didn’t work last week and still doesn’t I don’t know what to do about it, the data we were sent is wrong.”
“Fix it,”
“Actually I was going to recall all those people and ask them personally what they meant just to make sure we got the right answer, then I am going to pay for the surgery to removed the stick that is firmly up your ass and put it over your mouth that way I can ignore you easily instead of having to tune you out while you get yourself off at my expense,” but again his better sense stifled this response and instead muttered a “I will see what I can do.”
Was there a moment Stanley enjoyed more then this tit for tat, this anal-retentive anger that could only be reserved for precious things as question marks.
“You have made so many mistakes; do you even look at your work?”
“I’m sorres sir, I try betta nest time, please sirs don’t beat ma,” so many things he always wanted to say, but still he kept it in.
Instead, “I will fix it.”
This is what happens to a good person when they get power. No one to work for always being brow bitten by a similarly soon to be cardiac-arrest level of anal retentiveness, she was like a child whose parents beat them. Once she finally got promoted to the level of having her own employee, she employed the same technique of belittling and self-aggrandizing criticism of mundane work that leaves the employee feeling needlessly demeaned and the boss artificially inflated.
Stanley came to her office to drop off the new pile of papers for her to criticize
“What would you do if I would not catch all these mistakes; I don’t think you look over these that closely”
“I actually think the world would keep spinning,” He could see the air in little balloon go out. He plopped the report on her desk and left, feeling of pleasure rising in his chest.
The only thing left to do was fulfill his hourly portion of holding on to a sliver of sanity by walking outside. But the heat meant that any clear thought would quickly be wiped away.
No matter how much he tried to distract himself mentally, the white pants with black thong were too much of a distraction. It wasn’t that Stanley had a fetish for these things, but his maleness would take a hold of him in an instant drawing his attention and head toward the panty-lines or underwear, giving him a usually stirring of emotion in the nether regions. How could he not be attracted or at least look? Isn’t that why they created that clothing to attract men like him? Well not like HIM per-say.
He was sure that the women who wore these tantalizing pieces were not picturing his chubby likeness when deciding to wear such eye focusing clothing. Never the less it didn’t stop his mind from wondering what it would be like to be with them. If he had a fetish for anything it was with exhilaration of the senses that being with a woman could bring. The smell the room fills with during a sultry sexual escapade, the sound a woman truly enjoying the experience, the feel of a woman’s skin as she slithered beneath him, their taste as a woman became more and more excited on his tongue. The whole experience was so intoxicating a good man he presumed himself to be was constantly making bad decisions because of it.
Seeing these women walk by enjoying the summer with their wardrobes was too much to concentrate on, he may need to stop into the bathroom for a few minutes before he was ready to go back to his desk and do nothing.
For now, his focus returned to food, pizza or Chinese from the mall food court. Walking through the scenic riverside pathway he put on his IPOD to drown out his thoughts. It proved to be a mistake as the sound of Fiona Apples, “Sleep To Dream” echoed from his to the pit of his soul.
The emptiness of his existence struck without the feeling to care what he was putting in his mouth he sat with a pizza in front of him. No part of Stanley’s day was easy, he could think of several instances during the day that he could list as the worst, but the free time to think of his direction seemed to resonate most with the despair he felt toward the world. Stanley tried to dismiss the feeling as sappiness, many people just working in this mall had it much worse why should he mourn so much for his position.
The dying of a dream while working in his chosen field, the feeling of being alone while spending his nights with two women, It was amazing how a simple song could plunge him into an abyss of despair, that for those few minutes depths seem endless. He wasn’t sure if it would make it worse or better but he decided to brave the chance watching the scantly clad Georgetown students might make him feel better.
He had become one of those men, one of those men who takes a pit stop in the bathroom for use other than their intended bodily function relievers. There he sat hoping no one came in and no one noticed the dirty magazine in his pocket when he left, it was one of those guilt ridden activities that had become essential to surviving the day. A little pick me up after the images of the women in summer garb singed the brain with the real decision making in his crotch.
Not wanting to finish the 30 minutes of work he had to pace out through out the day he decided to call Cecelia, apparently she had not gotten the memo that he was horny.
“I mean we will have the cutest kids, I just love Black babies.”
“Yes, well interracial kids are always the best looking if I may say so myself.”
“I know I will have to convert, but I think I will be ready by then.” Always an awkward conversation, not because he did not think his religion important, but rather how he could impose it on the woman when he was unsure he even wanted to marry her.
“You know I support whatever you decide to do.”
“It’s just what do you think we will do, how will we travel together, where will we be? How will we get back to Malawi?”
“I’ve never been to Malawi.” Suddenly he wasn’t as excited as he was during his lunch walk.
“I know but it’s like a home to me and so you, I miss it so much, I don’t think you understand how much I miss it.”
Things were always worse for her. Not really, but for Cecelia, Stanley who was so stout on the outside, she could not fathom the depth of emotion she had toward life could be understood by Stanley. Although different Stanley found a way to torment himself much more than Celelia could ever imagine and the resolute smile he put out to the world was simple a mechanism of coping otherwise he might spend all day crying were he to have to face it in the openly.
“I have some idea, I know its tough but we will find a way to incorporate it into our lives.”
“How?” If Stanley had that answer he probably could find a way to have just one girlfriend to please him.
“I don’t know, it will work itself out, just graduate first and we will figure it out from there.” Fear that he would be stuck in this job deadened his backbone; he had to sit on the stoop outside work.
“Do you love me?” It turned out to be a good decision.
“Huh… What do you mean? Of course I love you.” Sometimes he was unsure and Cecelia could feel it.
“I think your lunch hour was over 20 minutes ago.” For once Candy’s obnoxious demeanor had done Stanley some good.
“Ceces I have to go, I love you I will talk to you later tonight. You coming by?”
“No late class.” He knew that, that is why he had plans with Joy later that night. “I love you to baby, I will talk to you later.”
JoytoTheWorld49: I can’t wait to lick you later tonite
StanleyCS35: I can’t wait to see you either.
“Stanley what are you up to?” His boss knew it was not work, but he kept up the pretense just for her.
“Just finishing the survey for tomorrow.” It would take him 5 minutes and it had to last him 3 more hours until quitting time.
“Since you keep messing up I want to see it before I go.”
“Ok, 5 minutes.”
“It should have been done already, why are you so slow? I have hoped you would have taken to this already and be asking for more work so we could take on more clients.” Stanley couldn’t possibly think of a reason to request more boring work, and more headache from his boss, it seemed even odder that she was unable to grasp this obvious reality. Who asks for more water torture while strapped to the machine?
JoytoTheWorld49: Where is my big black penis?
It’s like she knew the perfect time to write this. The disgusted look on my bosses face as she took the few steps back to her desk to loudly stomp off and scowl said it all.
“Just stop goofing off and get it down.”
StanleyCS35: Possibly in the unemployment line my boss saw that.
“You know I make more than you now do you know why that is?” Candy couldn’t wait to squeeze some more self congratulations out of this latest dust up.
“Because your lips are bigger and more round making them better at kissing ass?”
“Why do you have to be such an asshole, G-d you think you are so much better than everyone.”
“No I just KNOW I am better than you.”
“Well it’s cause I worker harder than you I am always working.”
“Yeah that certainly makes me the fool.”
StanleyCS35: What time do I get to see you naked tonight?
Having handed off the last of his work just before 2 o’clock it was time to pretend to still have more to do. No one really believed Stanley was still doing work, but the pretense was better than confrontation.
Candy moved in again hoping to successfully take Stanley down a peg. Surely his lack of morality in the face of all his moralizing would shame him in front of the office. Stanley admired her spirit to keep on fighting even if it was in vain. What she just couldn’t comprehend is that he just didn’t give a shit about what Candy or his boss thought of him.
“How many girlfriends do you have NOW?” Candy started in again, she knew he wasn’t working.
“Besides your mother and sister?”
“G-d you such an asshole.”
“And yet the women love me.”
JoytoTheWorld49: In time for our BET Slow Jamz
StanleyCS35: That late, can’t you come sooner so we can have rest and do it again by then?
JoytoTheWorld49: Well I will be there as soon as I can, I can’t wait to get you inside me.
StanleyCS35: So you just using me for the sex? Not that I am against that.
JoytoTheWorld49: Cause you are the perfect man
St: Perfect Man?
JoytoTheWorld49: Yeah you are an original Metrosexual, without all the male beauty products.
St: Damn I thought I was an O.G. (slang for Original Gangster) what do you mean?
JoytoTheWorld49: Well you are what is popular to look for right now, a straight man who is like a gay guy… knows women, good with colors, can cook.
St. Really I thought that was just being a liberated feminist
JoytoTheWorld49: Today we call it metrosexualism
St. I like to think I don’t come from it from that perspective, I do it because it makes me happy and as a feminist. I am also sensitive, into women’s desires, respectful and for those reasons I don’t want to limit myself to cliché male/female stereotypes. I just thought it was being a liberated nice guy who wants to be able to like football and ironing.
JoytoTheWorld49: Sure if you wanted to throw logic into the whole thing, I just like to think of you as my big black metrosexual.
St. Thanks
JoytoTheWorld49: I mean really you are like being with a Lesbian, cause you are a woman who likes woman. You even like to eat women out.
St: Especially you. But a lesbian you think? I don’t think I would make a good woman I like my penis to much.
JoytoTheWorld49: Well sure who doesn’t but it is ironic that you like your penis and seem to hate people who also have them
St: What do you mean?
JoytoTheWorld49: Well you don’t really have any male friends
St. My roommate
JoytoTheWorld49: And Besides him? Well and Evan and you guys have been friends since High School and he is the only one I know of. Why do you not like boys?
St: I don’t know to be honest I think men are boring.
JoytoTheWorld49: Really? Why?
St: Men are easy and straight forward. Women are always fun what with the estrogen and all.
JoytoTheWorld49: lol how very un-feminist of you.
St: I know. I will apologize to Susan B. Anthony later ( look up) I mean women are more complicated, with depth of thought and feelings and willing to share that depth with me. Men we can only really talk about politics and sports or music or games or something like that. I am as progressive thinking man I still feel uncomfortable talking with a guy about anything other then the superficial.
JoytoTheWorld49: Yeah man on man don’t really talk about these things.
St: Sure we do with women, not with other men can you imagine? No sex, no relationship stuff, no emotions whatsoever.
JoytoTheWorld49: Really, I thought that is all men talk about.
St: No it is all we think about, men don’t talk about sex with each other
JoytoTheWorld49: You saying men don’t talk about sex? I know that’s not true.
St: I mean we talk about obnoxious things like how good that ass looked or how big our friend’s girlfriend’s hooters are. But we don’t actually talk about their sex lives. I remember the longest conversation I ever had about sex with a guy. Evan was like I had sex and I said really. He goes it was nice. That’s it that’s the longest.
JoytoTheWorld49: LOL yeah women can get graphic we talk about it all.
St: Don’t I know it.
JoytoTheWorld49: Personally I always liked hanging out with boys. So much simpler none of that bullshit that other women get into. No games, none of that stuff, I think I would have made a good boy.
St: I am glad your not that’s for sure. You look good as a girl
JoytoTheWorld49: yeah what do you like
St: I will tell you tonight while I am looking at them up-close.
JoytoTheWorld49: Good I have to go, but I will see you later and stay hard for I can’t wait to have my way with you.
St. Please as if you could push me around at midget size
JoytoTheWorld49: Hey pack a lot of punch in this small frame as you well know
St. That you do, see ya soon
JoytoTheWorld49: Later
After all this typing over instant messenger it was hard to continue the kabuki performance about working, but Stanley put his headphones down and continued to pretend as he streamed NPR through his computer.
It seemed that a day could not go by with Stanley not dreaming of other employment. Stanley listened to an NPR report about the increase desire of people to switch jobs, to do what they want, yet when they do it, find that it is not all that they had thought or hoped it might be, was this Stanley’s problem? Was there really a job out there for him? This seemed to be a theme with Stanley, a burning desire for something different, but was it really better? Or just post college-grad angst? Could he be happy anywhere?
Stanley felt like he had life ADD, directionless and broken at such a young age it seemed impossible to think about the future. Just out of college Stanley was the oldest 22 year old of anyone he knew. The weight of life came crashing around him as he stared at the walls of hope that were failing to inspire happiness.
He had a good job, a great girlfriend, a hot fuck buddy, nice job and apartment. Was there more he was missing or was he always going to be plagued with the certainty that someone else’s life, another job was always better.
Somehow his boss was able to pull him out of his impending dive from the top of the roof.
“I am leaving early, Jared has an appointment with the doctor. This is passable though be ready for tomorrow.” With each arm she put into her jacket Stanley’s spirit rose a little bit more.
“It’s about time your big black dick got here, get undressed and get in me.”
“Do sweet talk all the men that come here?”
But that was the irony of all of Joy’s talk and swagger, as he was pulling off his shirt Joy reached for the lights. Joy talked a lot about sex, but she seemed to be scared of it. Cecelia was reserved and inexperienced and yet when it came to her sexuality she was willing to try anything and sexually curious in an almost off putting way for Stanley. He expected the saint outside to be the same inside. And here Joy, a woman who got him with her suggestive sexual promiscuity was so uncomfortable with sex it could almost be boring.
There was one advantage Joy would always have over Cecelia that kept him coming back. As he entered her felt her muscles tighten on his penis he nearly came. The tight fit squeezed more ecstasy from his body than he could imagine with someone so uncomfortable with the act.
He moaned with pleasure and started kissing Joy’s favorite place on her neck hoping to get a response from her. She smiled, wiggled and gave a little grunt of pleasure to let him know he was on the right track.
“Don’t come, I am so close.”
“Ok”
“Oh g-d, don’t move,” It was the weirdest orgasm he had ever encountered. Stanley had to stop so that she could let go. But in a way it was the most enjoyable and endearing. There was no faking this, it was sweet, honest, intimate and strangely the most sexy. It brought a true smile to his face and he brought his arms beneath her and held her tight.
“Don’t stop your not done.” He cherished the moment before turning her over.
“Baby I’m close.”
“Oh g-d cum.”
“Can I cum on your back?” She stopped meeting his thrusts abruptly.
“You know I don’t like you cumming on me.”
“I can’t finish inside either you aren’t on anything.”
“Finish over there.” She pointed to the usual box of tissues. It was the worst part of being with her.
“We must be the only people who actually WATCH BET’s (uplate, smooth nights)”
“I know but that cause we don’t waste time with all that talking beforehand nonsense.”
“It is nice to talk once I am relaxed.”
“Do you want to have sex again?”
“Sure.” He rolled on top of her started working his way down her tiny body with his lips. She moaned and grabbed his head as he enjoyed her small breasts. He went to his favorite part past the stomach to right before her pubic hair started. But she grabbed his ears.
“Don’t”
“but I love the way you taste, I want to.”
“But then I can’t kiss you until after sex when you wash and brush your teeth.” He begrudgingly came back up as she grabbed his penis to go back inside.
“I never thought I would enjoy watching the Golden Girls after sex.”
“But they are wonderful I am glad you stayed.” Even as the perfection of the feeling he had as this tiny figure was engulfed in his arms he knew it had to stop. Two women were two too many. He looked over and smiled. She was perfect and he knew he would let her go soon, maybe make her want to break up. His actions made his stomach turn, he couldn’t keep this up, but what if he was making the wrong choice. “Sick” he thought.
