Chapter 4
Paradise Lost
by knight_b_4@hotmail.com
Story codes: Mff, hum, les, rom, preg
Author’s Note:  This story involves sexual activity between a variety of people, some of whom are underage. If it is illegal in your jurisdiction to read about such things, please delete this story immediately. (And know that you have my sympathies for living in such a repressive atmosphere.) This story is entirely a work of fiction; none of the events described herein actually took place (at least not to the author’s knowledge). The author does not condone sexual activity with minors, although he does recommend most of the following if done with a consenting adult.
This story may be posted with no changes or deletions on a free site, or the free area of a commercial site. The work is copyright 2012 by the author, and all rights are reserved.
The next couple of days passed pretty much the same way. No phone calls, no email from Christie. I got a lot of work done, trying to ignore that. The ditzy bitch sent more changes; I’d been expecting it, so I’d let her project sit while I waited for them to show up. A couple of other clients OK’d theirs, so I sent them the color separations and their bills. Payment for a big project I’d finished three months ago finally showed up (I hate large corporations and bureaucracies), so my bank account got nicely replenished. I watched a little TV when I could find something good, and went to the store to pick up some new DVDs for the times I couldn’t. (Why didn’t “Death to Smoochy” do better at the box office? That movie’s hysterical.)
Mostly, I moped. Sometimes, I masturbated with Christie’s panties in my other hand or laying on my chest. I was sorry I’d washed them now; I couldn’t smell her on them anymore, and I really wished I could smell her scent again. Not just her pussy, but her hair, her skin, her lips. I took to carrying her panties with me everywhere, in my pocket if I was going out. (That proved to be embarrassing when I reached for money at the DVD place and pulled out cash and panties at the same time. Fortunately, the clerk was a young guy and he just grinned. Guess he didn’t realize they were little-girl size.)
Finally, the afternoon of the third day after I’d met Christie, I found myself driving past the mall. I had no business in that part of town, no reason to be there, not even going to Murray’s. But I turned in anyway, then rationalized it by reminding myself I’d promised to teach Charlene what I knew about eating pussy. If I happened to run into Christie, that’d just be a bonus and entirely accidental, right? (My, you really are good at rationalizing, aren’t you? Like you’ll even notice Charlene if Christie is there.) (Are you still here? I haven’t heard from you in a while, I’d hoped you’d died.) (Not until you do, pal.)
The food court was crowded with kids again, it being a little past the time school got out. My heart was beating fast and I unconsciously fingered the thong in my pocket as I drew near Uncle Vittorio’s. Charlene was at the counter, but there was no sign of Christie, either in the restaurant or out in the food court. Maybe she was back in the office? I shied back from that thought, not liking the reason why she might be.
Charlene smiled and waved when she saw me.
“Hi, Harry. How’s it going?”
“Pretty good, Charlene. How’s things with you?” I hoped I didn’t sound as falsely cheerful to her as I did to myself.
“Good. If you’re looking for Christie, I haven’t seen her today,” she said, and looked at me fairly intently for my reaction.
“Well, if you do see her, tell her I said ‘Hi’.” Was the disappointment evident? It was to me, but I couldn’t tell if she caught it. “I was free this afternoon, so I thought I’d come by and keep my promise to you, actually.”
She looked puzzled for a minute. “Your promise to… Oh!” Her eyes lit up. “Yeah, thanks. Come on back and we can talk.” She lifted the counter lid for me and as I squeezed through, turned to one of the other workers and told her to take over. She led the way through the back and into the office, and pointed to the chair as she perched on a corner of the desk.
We spent a half hour or so talking technique, as I described some of the things I’d done to Christie, some of the things I hadn’t done (but would next time, perhaps), and some things I’d heard about from other guys but never tried myself. Charlene listened intently, asked some intelligent questions, and offered a few tips and ideas of her own. We kept our clothes on and just talked, although I think I saw her nipples harden a couple of times. My cock stirred a few times, never coming up even as far as half mast but keeping an interest in the conversation.
We’d pretty much finished our lessons and were starting to talk about ourselves when I heard voices and footsteps- lots of footsteps- coming down the corridor. My heart started beating a little faster in anticipation, and then started thudding when I recognized Christie’s voice, though I couldn’t catch what she said.
The door opened and I heard Lily saying, “So break out those condoms, and let’s go, guys.” My heart crashed to my feet as Lily, Christie and four guys walked in. The guys looked to be high school age, maybe juniors or seniors, and all jock types. Lily was dressed in her usual black, this time a lacy top (no bra, as usual, aureola flushed red and nipples rock hard) and a flouncy lacy black skirt.
Christie was a vision from heaven. She wore a pink long-sleeved top with no shoulders (you know, the kind where it stops just above the tits and the sleeves are sewn on under the armpits) and a denim miniskirt that stopped just a few inches below her marvelously rounded ass. Her curvy sexy legs were wrapped in black fishnet stockings, and she had on red shoes with just enough heel to accentuate them. And, as usual, no bra, with her stiff nipples poking at the front of her top.
Everyone except Lily stopped dead when they saw us sitting there. Lily just said, “Hi, Harry. Hi, Charlene. How’s it going?” and walked over to hug us both.
Christie looked decidedly uncomfortable; I know I looked the same way or worse.
“Hi, Lily. Hi, Christie. Hi, boys.” Was that a tremor in my voice? a slight emphasis on ‘boys?’ “How are you?”
Christie wiped her face, and pasted on a big smile. I hoped it was as fake as the one I answered her with. “Hi, Harry. What brings you here?” Was that an accusation? Was she pissed I’d invaded “her” place?
“Just came to keep my promise to Charlene.” I tried to sound casual, as if my heart wasn’t shattering into a million splinters. “I was just getting ready to leave, in fact. I have an appointment to see a client and have to drive over to the other side of town. So, I’ll see you guys later, I guess. Have fun.” Did that last sound as bitter as I felt? I hoped not.
I stood up, hugged Charlene and started for the door. I looked deep into Christie’s eyes as I passed her, but didn’t try to hug her; I don’t think I could’ve let go if I had. She looked like she wanted to say something, but didn’t and I didn’t really stay long enough to give her a chance. As the door closed behind me, I heard one of the guys ask, “Who was that?” and Christie reply, “Just some guy I know.”
There may have been times in my life when I’ve felt worse, more completely shattered, more completely depressed, more cold and numb, but I can’t remember any. The next thing I knew, I was home; I didn’t remember driving there. I walked into the bedroom, threw Christie’s thong in the trash, and lay down. I stared at the ceiling for a long, long time. Then I got up, fished her thong out of the watebasket, placed it carefully on the other side of the bed, and lay down again.
I don’t remember much about the rest of the night. I think I might’ve eaten, but I’m not sure. Other than that, I discovered that my bedroom ceiling really wasn’t very interesting.