I Get off
(A bar story of Mobius)
He sat there and watched the young waitress of a woman.
He always watched her when he came here.
He always talked to her, but she wasn't like the other bimbos he had screwed before.
She never fell for the words coming out of his mouth, no matter how sweet they were.
'Heh' he thought to himself.
She would sit at her normal table for her break.
She never ate though, she drew him.
She wanted to remember this man always.
When ever she used her pencils to draw him, she wouldn't color him.
Wouldn't color that bright fur that is.
He looked at her when her head was down and hands busy.
He wonder what she was doing ever night.
He just wanted to see if she ever had any interest in him at all.
Yeah, it was true.
He did really want to screw her to see if what he felt was deeper (no pun intended).
She looked up to find him gone from his sit.
He was fast, as fast as the hero they say, maybe even faster.
When she looked back down at her note pad, it was gone.
She looked up and saw him.
He was flipping through the drawings of him.
"Everything, but my fur?"
It was a simple question, but it made him wonder about her.
"You have the right pencil, don't you?"
She just looked up at him with a blank face.
"What? I'll color it in if you want me too."
"No"
Her answer made him shiver on the inside.
"I don't like your fur color."
That made him laugh and smile for real for once in his life.
"I think it is an ugly color."
"Do you now?"
He gave her a bright colorful grin.
How unlike himself to feel this warm on the inside.
"I like that about you, your for real."
He sat down next to her as he placed down her note book.
"And here I thought you just had a hard-on for me."
Oh, goddess only knows how much he turned her on.
Those icy eyes just starring down at her by an inch.
"I want to draw you."
Would he let her?
"You already did though."
She touched his arm.
She looked into his eyes.
Her grip tighten softly.
His smile fade into a small frown.
"I want to draw you in your most vulnerable position."
She wanted to draw him without leather.
Without red shades.
Without those shoes and gloves.
Just him alone.
That made him twist inside in more than one way.
Was she his enemy?
Was she going to kill him?
Was she going to hurt him?
Was she going to drive him insane?
She looked at him in wait.
Would he say no and leave?
Would he just laugh?
Would he not trust her?
Would he reject her?
"All right, but I want something in return."
She looked at him with curiosity.
"I want a kiss."
She looked into his cool eyes again, then smile.
"Why not then."
He was on her couch.
Yeah, it was a cliché, she knew that.
But this is what she wanted.
This was what she saw in her head.
It made her hot.
He was here naked for her.
His stuff tossed in a corner.
His back lazy like against the couch.
One of his hands resting intimately on his crotch.
His legs wide and free.
She sat in her small chair.
Her eyes just focused on her work.
The drawing she yearn to do since she first saw him.
This was the only time she would use that color.
That ugly color that painted his fur.
"You done yet?"
She hushed him and moved her hand.
"Sigh."
She glared at him.
"Fine, be that way, sweetheart."
Her hand continued to move to the lines.
Now for that color and she would be done.
There, that's it.
No more was that desire to draw him.
Now just that one desire driving her to touch him.
"Well, can I see it?"
She shook her head at him in a 'no'.
"What about my payment, at least?"
She looked at him with a silly smile and blush.
"Well?"
"Shut your eyes."
When he did she walked to him.
Her lips crested over his as she straddled his lap.
Her hands went threw his stomach fur and over his scars.
Her tongue licked his lips with wanton.
He opened his mouth.
He kept his eyes shut to honor her words.
Two muscle danced in her mouth.
He put more pressure against her lips.
His large peach colored hands touch her back gently.
That is what she waited for.
She moved them to her bedroom.
Lips still locked.
Hands still touching.
Heat rising in them both.
He tossed her clothes somewhere.
He could give less of a shit.
He felt something no other girl had caused in him.
What was that word?
Passion?
She was on her back.
The bed was soft.
Her lover was hard to say the least.
She looked into those eyes again.
He met her with the same feeling.
They mix.
They loved.
They cuddled.
They talked.
They did it over and over again.
The light was bright in her room.
She sat up with warmth next to her.
Her teeth bite her lip with worry.
She knew they forgot something.
"Blast."
He felt her move.
He knew that they forgot.
Maybe he forgot on purpose.
He wanted to stop running alone.
He touched her hand.
"We weren't safe."
She was worried.
She was upset.
She was surprised.
She was happy.
"Yeah, I know."
He felt pride at being by her side.
"I didn't care to be."
She curled up into his arms.
"Don't you like me?"
"No."
There was that answer again.
"I don't like your fur."
That made him laugh.
"Why now?"
"I'm tired."
His hand petted her hair.
"I want to be alone without all the crap out there."
Her eyes looked at him.
"Not including you."
"Better not."
It was simple just like her.
He liked that.
She liked that.
They loved that.
It was simple.
So simple.
He wasn't.
She was.
It's funny who you meet at a bar.