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Stop It (MF, reluc)
by Ovids Meta (ovidsmeta@hotmail.com)
Date: 3/99 

***

"Stop it!  Don't!" she'd cried.

I'd tried to press further into her with my middle finger, feeling harsh 
movement and throbbing an inch away. 

I rubbed my temples, looking down at the convertible debenture.  How am 
I going to make these trustee provisions fit?  This is wrong.  Why don't 
these assholes simply use a preferred stock designation? Jesus. It's 
always wrong.  Get another one.  I crumpled the document and tossed it 
in the garbage.  I stood up and looked out the window.  I could see the 
blue of the Atlantic through the two tall buildings.  To be out there, 
on a boat.  Late spring, behind the large window, was in the air.  
Beautfiful.
  
"Let me go!  I mean it!  No!"

But still, I'd strained, strong and powerful, inside her and began 
sucking on her large hanging left nipple, pink and bloated, my hand 
still behind her, stretched, prodding between her soft, giving crevice.

I put my finger up to my mouth, tasting its clean, soapy smell.  Annie.

Annie'd pushed off, her thighs wide, her soft, hazel-split juncture 
slick and open, gorged, and my erection was rudely evicted, springing 
free, moist, chilling in the unprotected air.  I could feel the blood 
pulsing in my neck, my ears, hot, my body lurching, uncovered.  She lay 
for a moment next to me, catching her breath, a dark hair or two from my 
chest plastered on her rising and falling, parted chest.  She got off 
and I watched her as she put a robe on.  She'd not looked at me and 
headed towards the bathroom. 

I'd brought my hands to my face, could see my unsatisfied excitement, 
could smell the evidence of my obscene effort to gain a finger-hold in 
her unnatural opening.

I'd heard the bathroom door slam closed.  Fuck.  I took a deep breath. 
Fuck.  Christ.  Annie.  Before I'd stepped out, she made sure I'd washed 
my hands, making sure I wouldn't leave with any trace of my indecent 
yearning.

The telephone rang.  Blue.  I want the blue.  My suits.  No.  Don't 
answer the fuckin' . . .  Oh shit.  The number on the caller ID . . .  I 
grabbed the phone. 

"Charles Bowne."

"Charles," the voice responded.  It was Sue.  "Have I got good news for 
you.  I bet you've had a miserable day so far."

I laughed.  "How did you know?"

"Your voice.  `Charles Bowne.'  Like you've got something up your ass.  
What's wrong with, `Good morning, Sue, my love, my savior'?  What's 
wrong with that?"

I was silent.  The queen was calling.  She sounded, happy, excited, 
normal.  I put my feet up on the papers strewn atop the desk.

"I can tell."

"Wonderful.  Make my day."

"I'm not sure I should after this reception."

I started counting the days on the calender, backtracking.  Okay, the 
record date for the meeting of shareholders should be . . .

"Oh, you really are in a bad mood.  Momma's gonna make it all better.  
I've got in my hands the final dismissal order."

I smiled.  Oh fuck.  Finally.  No more depositions, no more legal bills.  
Finally.

"Are you smiling?"

I laughed.  "Yes.  The Ethics investig--"

"Yes.  Yes.  Yes.  All of it.  Do you think I'm an idiot.  I'd be 
working at your dump if I was."

I laughed.  Sue in the morning.  Better than an espresso.  Okay, clear 
your head.  This'll be fun.

"You're a clean man.  Born again.  Go forth and conquer."

"I shall."

"Good.  Am I not a miracle worker?"

I smiled, again.  She was, had been, will be, everything.  

"Charles, don't make me rip up your `Get out of Jail Free Card."

"You are."

"Damn straight, buddy boy.  Okay, now . . . well, what are you doing 
tonight?"

Thursday night.  Nothing.  Henry had his soccer game, but Annie would be 
there and the kid wasn't terribly impressive, not like.  Fuck. . . .

"I don't know."

"Bullshit.  Come on.  Seriously.  Do you have anything important you're 
doing tonight?"

"What do you want?"

"That's not at issue, at the moment.  Tell me whether you've got 
anything that needs your attention tonight?"

"Henry has a soccer--"

She laughed.

"Amused?"  Of course she was.  The idea of taking me away from a 
parental duty would make whatever she was planning all the more 
satisfying for her.

"Oh brother.  When was the last time you went to any of your kid's 
stuff.  What a joke."

"Well, baby, since you've given me a new lease, I'm going to turn a new 
leaf."

"Shut-up with that nonsense.  Look.  I need you to . . . umm, how shall 
we say?"

What could she want?  Sue.  Empress Sue.  An escort to a function 
because Fred was out of town?  Maybe, a simple dinner, alone.

"Are you listening?"

"No."

"Good.  I want you to help me seduce someone."

I leaned closer to the phone, pulling my feet off the desk.  Who was the 
woman?  Obviously, not someone she'd picked up at the bar. They would've 
thrown themselves at her.  Mistress Sue.  Probably someone at work.  
Some little kid.  Corruptress Sue.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"Come on.  Will you help me?"

"Why would you need my help?"

"Because, I don't know how she'll respond if I come onto her."

"She'll tell you to go fuck yourself or she'll open her thighs for you.  
Either way you win.  Where's the dilemma?"

"Charles, you asshole, after everything I've done for you, busting my 
ass these past five months and you--"

"Baby, shhh.  Shhhh.  Sweetheart.  I don't have this month's bill, but  
getting half a million for five months--"

"Like I give a shit.  Charles.  I did it for you.  Don't you love me 
anymore?"

I laughed because I knew it was true.  Sue had no need for money.

She laughed.

"Okay, okay.  Come on.  Help me out here.  I want to lick this girl 
clean.  Come on."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Pretend you're Fred."

"Why?"

"I told her I wanted to take her out for dinner or something and . . ."

"Does she know you want to debauch her?"

"Of course not."

"So what's the problem? Get her a little drunk and--"

"Will you shut up, with your crass garbage.  `Get her a little drunk.'  
What an idiot you are sometimes." 

Another line on the phone lit.

"Heh, Sue, I've got another call.  I'll call you later, okay?"

"Bullshit.  Are you going to help or no?"

The red dot flickered some more.

"Seriously, this is an important call."

"Help me!"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever.  Don't worry about it.  Yeah.  Bye."

"Charles!--"

I hung up the phone and pressed for the other line.

"Charles Bowne."

"Oh thank goodness, I caught you Mr. Bowne.  Uhh.  Yes.  Your new suits 
are ready. Shall I bring them to the office?"

"Please," I said, and hung up the phone.

I put my finger up to my nose.  Nothing.  Soapy clean.  Annie.

