The Package Store

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It was four o’clock. Clock on the wall said, “That’s all!” and Suzy was out the door. The day’s tasks weighed on her brow heavily and she decided, quite out of character she would later snicker, to purchase a very necessary bottle of merlot on the way home. It was a four glass day. Jerry the $8.00 an hour CEO was more than his usual obnoxious ass. Four accounts not reconciled. The bitch Sharla next to her didn’t do a goddamned thing all day but bitch to her mom about her husband. The day was now behind her and the approach of a few glasses of smooth shiraz was all for which she could muster exuberance.

The air was cool and festive, the troubled times of America’s new war put a dark shade of the mundane karma during which the fair entered the city.

The bright sun struck her full on the face as she left the office and brought her some comfort. She walked briskly to her car, smiling bashfully when a car of passing blacks whistled and exclaimed unintelligibly at her lithe figure. Their comments were not easily understood, but the obvious exagerated nature of the language was not unnoticed. She was single and such exclamations brightened her mood, even if uttered in the form of ambivalent sexual ignorance. Giggling, she blew them a kiss. Thanks for the holla.

The drive to the package store was short but fraught with the turmoil of North State Street traffic. It took her through the thoroughfare of the departing. The law offices, hospitals, UPS drivers, day laborers, students and Guardsmen were spilling their weary contents into the street en masse. After a long and busy day of fielding calls and orders from her superior, the last thing she wanted was the hustle and bustle of rush hour, but she deemed it a necessary evil, given the ever-increasing desire for a nice smooth glass of vino.

The cacophony of everyday traffic soothed her slightly and coupled with the slow deep rubbing of her own shoulders at various traffic lights, she eased her tensions.

The liquor store was fairly close to her work and she reached it quickly. There were only a few cars parked in front. As she parked, she noticed a dark man clad in a simple garb of sandals, light tan shorts and a very tight black shirt entering just ahead of her. He held open the door for a little old lady heavily burdened with a suitcase of Busch and a brown paper bag that contained a large bottle of amber courage peeking out from inside.

She was touched. He thought nothing about helping the lady, even though her own inclination was that people who bought cheap whiskey and cheaper beer often were damaged goods, because of either bad upbringing or mere bad taste. That he had generously helped her and even made a little remark that they both laughed at stirred her for some reason.

She did not get a great look at him, merely a glance at his profile from behind as she was parking. He had a great form however. He was fit, a increasing rarity in the South even amongst those who were still young enough and single enough to know be better. Not overly tall, she reckoned there was no way he was close to six foot but he was trim and carried himself as close to the six foot as she found acceptable. There was just no accounting for taste in the perception of faces, in Suzanne’s opinion, but by God the guy had to be taller than her tits, even if that was where he needed to be.

The manners and light-hearted nature were a great first impression. She parked the car and stretched her legs a bit, pushing into the pedals the pain arising from her constant sitting from her calves. Gathering her purse, she exited and walked into the store.

The cashier was an elderly Indian, recognizable due to the caste mark between his eyebrows. He nodded nonchalantly at her and asked if she needed any help.

“I’d like a nice red wine. Maybe a Bordeaux or shiraz merlot?”

He nosed over to his right. “All wine over to the right.” His accent was very thick and distinguished, but standoff-ish. There was probably no way in hell he knew what a shiraz was beyond whatever the wine rep sent him a beer for.

She thanked him and began walking quickly to the side. There was a pair of young black women whose ages could have been twenty-two or forty-two- she always had trouble telling their age- looking and bantering back and forth about how much cognac they should buy. To her left, a man in a very exquisite business suit was milling about the top shelf bourbons, staring hard at the labels. His eyes cut to her and she blushed a bit when she realized he was scoping her out.

The large gold band on his left ring finger stood out against the liter size bottle of Maker’s Mark he held and she ignored his glance. He had the puffy face of a rich drunk. Just as she turned to focus on just where she was headed, her eyes met Mr. Manner’s.

That he was quick with his cutting of his lingering eyes away from her, blushing and dark, and had a slightly foreign appearance instantly excited her. Her own pale güvenilir canlı bahis siteleri features and upbringing yearned instantly to investigate his differences. She did not know if he had heard her question to the cashier or whether some twist of fate had brought him to the wine section, but there he stood, directly in her aisle. She swallowed hard and sauntered up beside him. His eyes were surrounded by dark circles, not baggy as if from a lack of sleep but instead dark with an undeniable intensity of soul. Eyes that said ponderance, intelligence, but when theirs locked his eyes said, “Yes.” His hair was quite curly and a bit rambunctious atop his head. He was perhaps three inches taller than she, even with her pumps on and she noted his tastes included a mellow German merlot. He spoke first, his voice deep yet hushed, as if he did not wish to be too forceful. There was a lilt to it, a spicy sweetness.

“Hello.” Suzanne smiled slightly, ashamed that a small hint of moisture had unintentionally began pooling on the nape of her neck. Her womanly intuition tried to get a whiff of asshole on him and could not immediately find any. A genteel, dark presence, he was clearly a guy who felt good in his own shoes….sandals.

“Hi.” She reached for the closest bottle of red to her and began staring at the label intensely, as if taking in all the information. “You like a good red?”

“With the right company.” He smiled back at her. She did not immediately get the sense he meant it as a come-on. “I was thinking about having a glass or two on the deck at my house. The weather is quite exquisite.”

“Oh yes! I just got off work. I’ve missed out on the breeze today. Nothing but store-bought office wind. One of the woman I work with was field-testing the nastiest deodorant I’ve ever smelled today. I swear I think her pits woulda been better rank than painted up with whatever the hell that was she greased up with.”

“You work indoors?” He replaced the bottle in his hand and reached for another, a cheaper Lindeman’s.

“Yeah. I never see much of the sun this time of year. The sun sets so early now.” She stared at the bottle he had selected.

“Well, there’s much to be said about the evening. The temperature isn’t so bad until later in the fall. I’m not much for the cold stuff.”

“You like Lindeman’s?”

“They make a great merlot. Australia’s got the market knocked out on it. Not pricy, either. I used to work at a bar that sold a fruit beer they made that was awesome.”

“Did you bartend?”

“A while. I’m a writer now. My name is Danny.”

“I’m Suzanne.” She pronounce it Sue-zahn to give her name a distinctive drawl. She was plain ole’s Suzie most places.

“That sounds French. Are you from Louisiana?”

“No, it just sounds better that way.”

“I agree.” His tone dropped, as if embarrassed to compliment a lady so publicly and without a prompt. She tingled slightly all over, as if the merest tinge of bass in his voice rumbled through her. She felt drawn to him. It was quite strange. “I’m from New Orleans, that’s why I asked.”

“You don’t sound Cajun.”

“A few years in Florida, Germany, Texas and New York can do that.” He laughed, showing a bright smile that glowed. “I can slip it back in when I go home or need to show off. Put me around some cousins and a keg and you’d need a translator for a week afterward.”

“You travel a lot?” The wine was totally forgotten by each of them, though each held a bottle. Her heart pounded a bit harder than normal, causing her to breathe as deeply as she could and not be noticed to quell the racing beneath her breast. She felt her nipples growing stiff and decided not to be embarrassed by their appearance. She was sexy, damn it. That the Snoopy’s Bar jerk she had left snoring and cursing at his apartment that very morning did not notice her sex appeal left her vulnerable to the unassuming charms of the dark Cajun with the taste for sweet red. He was a hit and run the night before.

The Cajun had miles of possibilities. He was drenched in them.

“I try to. I sold a few books when I was in college. I get to move about a lot now. I’m on staff for the Associated Press. Fortunately, it’s a job I can do anywhere.”

“I would fucking love that!” Her swear took her by surprise. It was uncharacteristic, but then so was the sweat that she now noticed was growing in the small of her back and beneath her thighs. He laughed.

“I do fucking love it. Of course, it has its shitty days. But it beats cleaning johns.” He smiled again. She carefully dropped her glance back to the wine rack and eyed his crotch in her peripheral vision. It was tidy and firm beneath the Khakis, she could not tell if it were swelled due to a mutual excitement, but was nonetheless inviting.

His hand belied no wedding ring. She assumed he was not gay and since she detected no aura of another woman on him, she pounced. She owed herself a chance at having him. It was a güvenilir illegal bahis siteleri better evening than the day could have foretold.

“So, Danny from ‘N’awlins'” She chuckled at her attempt to imitate the accent. “I’m not normally inclined to ask strangers I meet at liquor stores out, but if there is no Ms. Danny, would you care to share a glass of this…” she held out the bottle of Heaven Hill Red Zinfandel, “…with me sometime?” It was so ostentatious to make the first move. She could not ever remember doing so before.

“I thought you would never ask.” He laughed again, not snidely but obviously happy she was so forward. “I think you are quite stunning.” They paused and stared into each other’s eyes.

“How about seven, then?” He shook his head.

“How about now? If it’s not too forward, of course.”

“Oh no. I just got off from work though. I don’t feel quite as well put together as I would if I could go home and freshen up.” He defered to her judgment.

“I think you look great.” His passive tone convinced her to go for it. “I live a block from here. Off Hamblin?” She knew it. Hippie district full of artsy suburbanites. Shady lofts and bungalows nestled between dips on Forney Hill. Full of old ladies walking toy dogs shifting a discerning glance at the blue hair and nose ring crowd renting their homes as the old folks passed away.

“Fair enough then. You’re on.” She cradled the bottle under her arm. He reached for it, grasping it softly and brushing her left nipple slightly. It tingled beneath her blouse and bra.

“I’m buying then.” She held it for a moment, savoring his hand upon her, then released it.

“Fair enough.” They walked, side by side, to the counter. The Indian was cashing out the businessman with the whiskey. The suit looked pissed. She could tell he was upset, both by the prospect of losing to a guy in sandals and having to go home to the trophy wife in Madison, and by being serviced by a foreigner. How WASP.

She smirked at him and without thinking, draped her arm under Danny’s. It was a firm arm and the tingling began in earnest beneath her labia. He paid with two twenties and thanked the Indian, who smiled at the young man and returned the thanks.

They exited the store and he paused outside.

“This sounds weird, but I didn’t drive. I mean, I have a Jeep, but I’m only a block away.” It seemed so characteristic of him. She sensed a sort of freedom of spirit. That he walked a block instead of driving further excited her. He obviously didn’t mind doing things the hard way. She secretly hoped he liked the hard way as much as she.

“Sure, I’m over here, in the Escort.” They walked slowly, arm in arm, to the car. She moved her umbrella and a folder from work to the back seat and unlocked his side. He got in carefully, taking care not to flop lazily into someone else’s ride. She cranked the motor and he pointed her out to the side street. Within two minutes, she was parking next to his CJ in a shady driveway nestled beneath a unassuming yet tasteful home. He did not speak during the short ride, content to let her expound upon the car and the job. She knew he knew it was just small talk, all the necessary language was unspoken. The best things were let to the mind.

They walked up the path, this time holding hands as if they had known each other for months. The unspoken, “Let’s REALLY fuck!” reared its head as soon as their feet hit the mushroom floor mat.

“We’re here.” He opened the unlocked door. “welcome to my humble abode.” She did not notice anything about his home, instead swiveling him around and pressing her firm lips hard upon his. He was surprised for a moment, then the instincts of two people in need took over. The wine bottles eased their way softly to the floor and his arms locked around her.

They kissed, firmly at first then breaking into a rhythm of mutual nuzzling about the neck. She was delighted that his back was as moist as her own.

An unexpected shudder passed through him, shaking her. It was the only time he showed nervousness. A quick snapping stroke of the crotch with her probing hand released any lingering apprehension. The mutual attraction was further confirmed by the rapid arousal that pressed nicely against her hip.

He scooped her up by the buttocks, she wrapping her legs around her waist, feeling his cock against her vulva. She stroked his hair as he kissed her throat, his kisses causing her to stroke his hair and smell his manly scent. There was a hint of cologne and it clashed delightfully with her growing sweat and eight-hour-old “Beautiful” perfume. They had yet to leave the doorway.

With one arm holding her firmly, Danny reached with his free hand and unbuttoned the top three buttons of her blouse. Her bra housed impressively firm breasts, pink nipples protruding from beneath the much-washed old bra. It hooked in the front and he skillfully unhooked it.

He knew what he was doing and she güvenilir bahis şirketleri felt it. Her bra fell open and his hand moved to her left breast, clasping it totally, moving up and down in slow draws of goose-bumped skin. His fingers singled out a nipple and the fresh tingle of excitement turned her on further. Her face was now flushed and her clit swelled beneath her cotton panties.

She felt so proud that she had worn her thigh-high stockings, complete with the garter to hold the cursed panty hose taunt for the day. It had not been planned when she left home, but the added sexiness the lingerie brought was going to work out nicely.

Suzy was constantly aware of the fact that she turned heads. Always had. She had the pick of the litter when she and her cohorts went out. She could pick and choose her unsuspecting prey or submit to the hunter she chose to slay her. Danny had no idea and probably didn’t care. What he did care about, she could tell, was a memorable time together.

She dropped her legs back to the floor and finished unbuttoning her blouse. It was tossed aside and soon after the bra.

He began kissing and fondling Suzanne’s breasts at will, expertly moving between the pair and simultaneously working whichever nipple not being lapped or inhaled with a free hand. He made sure to come back up to her mouth for her tongue, tasting her hot mouth and gathering wetness to bring back down to the awaiting breasts. Her hands began feeling his chest, bringing his shirt up and her mouth to his skin. His sweat was building and the manliness in her mouth made her insist on more.

Surprising him as well as herself, she fell to her knees, jerking the shorts down to his ankles and exposing his cock. She took his scrotum in her hand and instantly deep-throated him. His cock was not porno huge, but quite adequate and clean. He groaned with glee as she worked it with her lips, stroking it with a free hand and sucking it softly.

They met eyes, his staring calmly and satisfied at her efforts, hers longing and desiring the big member to gain its maximum size. A small thought about the whole oddity of the situation hit her and she tossed it aside. She needed this. It was spontaneous, far more so than spending hours longing for the bars and the drunken interludes that from there arisen. It may have all ended the same, some random exchange of numbers, brief agreement that “that was fun!”

It was the nature of the beast when it came to sex with someone not known. Suzanne tasted the feral sweat of his thigh, saw the glazing of his dark eyes…she could almost hear his saliva slurping in his mouth at the prospect of his feast so easily dropped into his lair. It was that beast that she wanted to leave its mark upon her best.

She withdrew her mouth and began licking the shaft. His hairs were short, as if trimmed and she alternated short hard suckling with long probing licks of the tongue. His cock grew another inch due to her efforts and she stopped a moment, stroking it with her hand and smiling coyly up at him.

Danny dropped to the ground and pulled her up to him. He was not embarrassed to kiss her again and she sucked her tongue as well as she had sucked the head. She stood up, unzipping her skirt and dropping it to the floor, exposing the long dark tights and her white silk panties. He moved forward, pressing his lips to her vulva beneath the panties.

While kissing his lips, he reached without looking to the garter clasps and unhooked them, taking down the hose.

“You’re beautiful. Simply badass-sexy.” For the first time since leaving the car, he spoke.

Staring down at the crown of his hair resting and kissing her panties, she returned the compliment, sighing and closing her eyes in passion. His hands moved aside the panty and his tongue found her clit.

Her tingling was now brought up ten notches to a thumping. She felt herself growing quite wet, both with her own juices and his moisture. She began breathing heavier, panting really. Danny’s tongue did good work. Such was the extent of his stimulation she could not hold back. She ripped her own panties from her waist and dropped down to the floor, straddling him. His cock was still firm and she guided herself onto it. He cupped her ass with one hand, his cock with the other, steadying it. She felt it near her pussy and dropped her weight.

He entered her, a bit too large for her at first but quickly bringing her pleasure as the lubrication eased it through naturally. She did the work at first, hovering over him and working her hips to move the dick inside her. His hand left his cock and began working the clit, enhancing the feeling.

She was very wet, now, and worked his thick cock in and out as deep or as shallow as she wanted. Danny’s other hand continued to work her nipples and his breathing grew harder as he felt the sexual grinding upon his most sensitive of areas. She worked it for a full five minutes and decided to see what his sexual bag of tricks contained.

She sat up panting, pacing herself. He threw her softly over on her side and maneuvered to a sideways position. With his left leg between her thighs and propping up on the right knee, he once again inserted his dick into her and held her by her left thigh for leverage.

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