I tasted sin, and her name was Alice. She was a cute, petite little thing. She worked diligently in a diner, was a single mom with two young kids, and just trying to make ends meet. When I had her alone for the first time, and tasted the depth of her sin – much sweeter than forbidden fruit – off of her lips, I knew she was something special.
I should reiterate here. I tasted the *potential* of sin from Alice. If she had a black heart, that sin would have eventually consumed her. Instead, she had that *potential* sin welled up, hidden and tight inside, like a hard nut that she only indulged on when she was very, very alone. The night we slept together, I unlocked every secret door until she finally let it all out with me. I took it from her as payment of services rendered, sort of speak. She gave it up freely and yet unknowingly. When I left her, I left in *potentials* place a sense of freedom to desire openly again, a memory of a magical night, and a feeling that not only was she worth a priceless amount, the ability to finally believed it. All that said, I still felt like I got the better end of the bargain.
She didn’t have time to miss me, for the day after we met, actually about 93 minutes after I left her place, she got a knock on the door. Once she opened it, she learned that she had just won one of those seemingly impossible-to-win-sweepstakes. I would like to believe she felt it was the second-best thing to happen to her in the 24-hour period. Yet, I am humble enough to be the second-best thing, even if I had played a part of nudging luck a little bit in Alice’s favor. Who am I kidding? I redirected the good luck in Alice’s direction as if I switched a runaway freight train onto impossibly different tracks. But I digress.
The *potential* sin Alice let go of and gave to me was of a pristine quality. She cultivated it quite well. Makes me wonder what she will cultivate in its place, now that she is void of it. Perhaps one day, I’ll have to revisit Alice just to see. I rarely pay a second visit to a client after the final deal is sealed. Second visits tend to get complicated with the unspoken contract negotiations. Questions better left unasked tend to surface. Like a magician never doing the same trick twice for the same audience, for sometimes the trick becomes known.
Back to the topic at hand…So much quality, *potential* sin is a terrible thing to waste. It is also a terribly hard thing to hold onto it for too long. Depending on the conditions, it can dissipate into the air like a fine mist or it can infect you worse than the plague if you handle it incorrectly.
Fortunately for me, I only had to turn down two offers from some nice and pretty ladies, and drink a few glasses of Crown neatly, before I ‘officially’ met the acquaintance of Julia.
She was a perfect host for this *potential* sin. She was beautiful, yet forgot how much she really was, so she was the type to wear a mask of vanity when she didn’t need such a construction at all. She was looking for redemption, yet didn’t quite know it yet and didn’t quite know why even. She forgot how to love. She forgot how to have real passion. So she looked for the quick fuck, for the quick hit of lust, because that was all she felt she was worth anymore. That hit of lust was currently the only thing that could tickle a sliver of passion in her life.
We did more than fuck in her apartment. We ran the gamut until every one of her neighbors were pounding on their walls, ceiling, or floor to try to hush us up. The *potential* sin that I received from Alice flowed within Julia easily enough when she finally forced me to climax the sin within her. She lusted hot and bright. To a point that she needed more. She was starved for it. The next poor bastard that would stumble across her would get to know such a brazen little slut, that his fantasies of having such a woman will be dull in comparison.
After I left Julia – during the briefest of moments when she physically slept, while the cauldron of her lust was bubbling to the point of overflowing – she would venture back to the same bar she picked me up in a few hours prior, needing a release of her lust more than she ever had in her entire life. There she would meet George. George would find her completely irresistible. Julia barely had to bat an eyelash to seduce him. He would have been easy pickings for her even if I didn’t amp up her lust in the first place. George would be the second lover she took to her apartment that night. George, however, was an asshole. He would indulge on the lust Julia radiated as a glutton instead of a lover. She fucked his brains out before he had a chance to fuck her brains out in cheap return. He also happened to absorb the *potential* sin from her as a sponge sucks up black ink and stains permanently from it. It mated to his flawed character, like the missing stanza to the most tragic of poems. He would not thank her for the gift she was. Honestly, I know quite a few good chaps that deserve to meet a woman as wonderful as Julia, but, like I said, Julia was a perfect host for that particular *potential* sin. Because she was the perfect person to pass it on to the bastard that is George.
A few things happened to Julia and George, after he left Julia’s apartment, albeit not all right away…
Julia – now freed of the *potential* sin that I lent her…that she carried for me temporarily – would finally ache to be loved again. She would meet Bob two days later (in part from a small nudge from yours truly). They would become instantly smitten with each other. It surprised me that it took them six months to get married. They could have easily pulled it off successfully in six weeks. I pride myself in my setups, when I feel obliged to do so. And I definitely felt obliged in this case, since I set her on a path to cross paths with George. Bah, even saying his name makes me want to spit venom.
Anyway, the other thing that happened, and perhaps the major point of the story, was that George literally got hit by a truck. Which in turn put him in traction for a few weeks as an added bonus. While he was in the hospital, he got arrested for embezzlement. That bad news happened about an hour after he got served divorce papers…
I tried to get Lindsey, his overly devoted wife, to leave him for quite a while, since he was physically and emotionally abusive with her, and verbally abusive toward their kids. I always had a soft spot for Lindsey. She was a good soul and deserved much better. She would not budge. But, you hire a P.I. to send her some photos of all of the affairs he was having on the side and well…heck, I am just glad she is moving on. She deserves someone of the quality of Bob, for example. I did mention George was an asshole, right? Sometimes Karma is too busy to deal with people like him so I appoint myself to step in on those occasions and clean up the messes that Karma overlooked. George was a fucking mess that needed to be dealt with ages ago. His ilk leaves so much chaos and pain in their wake. I am glad I met Alice, she possessed a perfect tonic of *potential* sin to help spin George in the direction he deserved. He has been on borrowed time with whatever good fortune he paid for with false coin…
“…Are you god?”, the beautifully naked young woman that was currently splayed wonderfully spent across my own naked body asked, interrupting my story. A story I was telling during the intermission of our pleasures, in part because I was in the mood to share such a tale to help pass the time.
I laughed, “No, He is a WAY better sort than I am.”
“Then, are you a devil…”, the woman asks, with an awed look on her face. A look that hints that she can almost see a true facet of what I really am. A look that mixed a sudden fear with a curious fascination.
I look a bit more serious and I even feigned a pained look, “I would like to believe I am quite a bit better than those troublemakers, but you ARE getting warmer…”
“Then…a…”
I cut her off, slightly bemused and very much aroused. “Well, the Greeks long ago called me Eros. A dreadful name really, always despised it, really. I dare say a nickname that stuck, I am sorry to say. They had my lineage a bit wrong though, Zeus was drunk more than half the time when he was explaining all of us ‘godlings’ to the woman he liked to dally with. So it goes. Let’s just say that while I do excel in the spreading of love and lust and passions, I do have a bit of a trickster in me as well. And I am terribly resentful of injustices. Especially of those injustices toward those in my charge…”
She looked confused, awed, and the warm, wet heat she was oozing against me where she was straddling my form was almost too addicting to be left to its own devices. I reach down and start caressing her there, wanting to get back to enjoying her particular delights.
“Like I said, the Greeks called me Eros. The Romans called me Cupid, ugh, almost a worse name. In your faith, I would fall into the category of angel I suppose, but there is no mention of me anywhere and it is a heck of a lot more complicated than all of that. For example, all of your friends know you as Denise…”
She suddenly snaps out of her sexual trance, a state of shocked surprise suddenly on her face, for we didn’t exchange names before coupling. I dip my fingers deep inside her, to distract her, sweetly torture her, and just because she felt fucking wonderful so why the heck wouldn’t I? And I continued, “…but that is not the name you were given as a child. Is it, Ashley?”
Denise-Ashley looked deep in my eyes, for I doubt anyone has called her that in years. I could feel a part of her wanting to pull away, but my touch was too sweet, and perhaps and hopefully, she was finally too tired to keep running from who she was.
“You mother and father met by chance in an airport. You are welcome by the way, for you wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for me literally pushing your dad into her. I was fond of your mom, I even loved her in a way. But, no worries, I never touched her like I am touching you. It was a more complicated, platonic thing. We were supposed to meet again, in that airport, her and I. But, when I was having a drink at the bar and met your dad, I knew he was the one for her.
“Long story short. I know who you are. I know you better than you know yourself. I know why you ran from home. I know why you must go back. You took a hard path in life. Some of it was forced, some of it self-inflicted. But, it is time to go back and figure out how to blend Denise into Ashley. Time to feel your parent’s loving embrace again. That would make most of their pain go away. They love you that much, you know.They would have never blamed you for what happened. It is time to go back, Ashley.”
Denise-Ashley turned into a river of tears. Years of pain and shame and suffering alone poured out of her like an infected wound. Sometimes the best way to cut to the heart of the matter is when a person is the most open and vulnerable. For me, I do my best work during and around sex.
Over time, Ashley calmed and came to be at a state of peace, I made quiet love to her, putting the few pieces back to rights, at least the few that can be put to rights during such a coupling. After that, she found a bit of the fire she cultivated as Denise and attempted with gusto to try and literally fuck my brains out. Lust can be just as good a tonic for woe as love, under the proper conditions, and I am always a proper condition.
In the final aftermath, she quietly asked, “So, am I just another assignment for you, then?”
I chuckled at that, a laugh that was warm and friendly, “Oh no, this was on personal time. Even so, sometimes even creatures like myself need to indulge in things that can only be done with lovers. I am just sorry it took so long to finally do it, but life has a way of getting in the way of what you want sometimes…”
—
Ashley-Denise woke alone as if from a dream. It almost felt like a dream. Almost. But, the soul rending experience still lingered. The bed was an utter disaster, in the best of ways. The size of the wet spot in the center of the mattress, was almost shameful, yet she wasn’t ashamed about it in the least. It made her smile and her body warm. She remembered everything vividly, but only if she didn’t look at any part of it directly on. Even E, for lack of anything better to call him and since he hated the name Eros, seemed both vivid and yet a jumble when she thought too hard about him. She could remember how his eyes shone as he thrust himself deep inside of her, yet she couldn’t recall the shade of them.
She missed him, yet she didn’t. She would have clung to him if he had been here when she awakened. She would have wanted more. She would have wanted to break under him again and again if she had a chance. Yet, without him here, that feeling was slowly fading. Leaving the memory of it all more like a healing, of breaking bones to set them aright.
Ashley-Denise climbed out of bed and felt alive for the first time in a long time. There wasn’t a deep ache physically or emotionally to be had. She found a letter with a plane ticket on the table next to the bed. It simply read:
*Ashley (for that is who you still truly are) -*
*If you indeed want your life back just fly home and leave this broken past behind. There will be plenty of time later to get all of the details back in order. There will be a limo at your destination to take you the rest of the way.*
*- E*
*P.S. – After you and your parents are done crying out your reunion, feel free to tell your mom that Ethan says hello. (However, you may want to refrain from telling her how we spent the evening. While I have little shame in such regards, I like possessing your mother’s current opinion of me.)*
As if the letter was a calling, Ashley’s heart pounded for the reality that it seemed to tease. She quickly showered and was out the door with little more than a purse and a bag with her most precious of possessions. She didn’t even recall that five minutes before meeting E at the bar, in which she finally succumbed to the decision to end her life that evening. She didn’t recall that because that was one of the last thoughts Denise had, before spilling her drink on E at the bar. Every moment after that, especially in hindsight, was of E slowly pulling Ashley back to the surface. She woke up remembering her life as Denise as almost a bad dream. Fuzzy and fading.
During the Taxi ride to the airport, Ashley just had a feeling of being in a warm, safe blanket. As scared as part of her was at the thought of facing her parents after so much time and causing them so much pain, she never felt more right in the direction she was going.
In the airport, it was during her brisk pace to her plane gate that a man suddenly ran into her with such a force they both fell to the ground.
“Oh my! I am so sorr…”
When Ashley looked into the man’s eyes, it cut off his speech. He looked as if he was just struck in the heart. For that matter, Ashley’s heart was suddenly racing along with her thighs quickly damp. She jerked her head around not because she wanted to ever break eye contact with this man that just literally knocked her to the ground, but to see if someone ‘helped’ him into her.
She didn’t recognize the man in the fedora walking the other way. Yet, that man paused when he felt her eyes on him, he looked at Ashley briefly, tipped his hat as his only apology, smiled an inhuman lovely smile, and winked at her. Winked with shiny eyes. Eyes that had a color, but one you couldn’t remember.
“Here, let me help you up,” said the man that ran into her, “Like I said, I am so sorry. I was rushing to my gate and some jerk knocked me into you…”
“It is quite ok,” replied Ashley in a bemused, almost other-worldly voice, “a similar thing happened to my mother about 25 years ago. She said it was the second best moment of her life.”
The stranger looked at her, confused yet curious, “Really? And what was the first?”
“Having me and holding me for the first time…and every time since; which would have never happened if she didn’t bump into my dad in an airport.”
A tear started to trickle down her face. She was going home. She was going to be held again by those that really loved her. It was suddenly the single best feeling in the world.
That was, until the stranger, wiped that tear so tenderly away.
They hurried to their respective gates, quickly trying to exchange info on a whim. They laughed when they found they were at the same gate. They smiled at each other when they found that they would be seated next to each other on the flight home.
“Must be kismet”, said the stranger, that introduced himself as Oliver during the jaunt to the gate.
Ashley smiled a bemused smile, thinking of a man in a fedora with shining eyes, and replied, “Not kismet, but you are getting warmer…”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/dgjtvm/a_strangers_tale_fm