XXX Steele
Usual disclaimers apply. This is a bit off the beaten path, so to speak...
"Oh yes! Oh yes! Oh-" *click* Remington sighed to himself and threw the remote across his living room. Two weeks ago his cable company had
mysteriously started showing the Triple XXX Channel, and he was quickly becoming addicted to it. Not to mention quickly becoming disgusted by the
whole thing...
No, no, no... it wasn't that. He didn't have anything against the idea of finding a little pleasure and relief from a porno flick. It was the idea
that he HAD to find his pleasure and relief from a porno flick that bothered him. He figured that years of celibacy were solely for monks, priests and
the dating inept.
He didn't figure into any of those categories. In fact, he had a rather promising future ahead of him in the dating area if Laura ever agreed to
anything more than above-the-neck-not-above-the-knee groping/kissing/petting.
Okay, so that sounds ridiculously pathetic, but what could he do? He could count the number of times on his digits that he had become slightly intimate
with Laura. IF he was lucky, he got to kiss her a few times a week. If he was BLESSED, the kiss was open mouthed.
He wasn't that blessed.
So, back to the Triple XXX Channel. For some reason it was situated between HBO and Cinemax. Go figure. Still, he wasn't hard pressed, so to speak,
about calling the cable company to complain. After all, he'd found something to distract him for the past couple of weeks while Laura was otherwise
occupied with moving her mom from Connecticut to California.
He expected her to kill her mother or jump off a building sometime by the next weekend.
Anyway, at least HE wasn't stressed about anything... lately. Picturing Laura as the buxom woman onscreen wasn't difficult, and it took little for
him to envision himself in the role of the well-endowed male lead. Okay, okay, so he wasn't THAT well endowed, and Laura could use some help in the
upper area, but he still managed make himself come in record speed.
Well, that and the fact that one of the actresses did happen to look a little like Laura... right down to the long brown hair and freckles.
Unfortunately, the movie on at the moment featured a blond with way-too-big breasts and some redheaded man who insisted on screaming "Yeah, baby, Yeah baby fuck-me-hard, fuck-me-hardhardhardhardhardhard..."
How inspiring. He'd caught the tail end of his new favorite movie but was now left with an impressive erection and no faux Laura to be found. If she could only see him now, sweaty, pants around his knees, hand holding himself as he tried to get that awful male actor out of his head...
He closed his eyes and tried to imagine Laura talking to him, talking him through this. She'd be patient and kind, telling him what he did to her was
wonderful, why she never wanted him to stop, how good he was making her feel...
*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*
He clutched himself out of shock, stopping his imminent climax. "Oh bloody hell..."
"Who is it!" he bellowed as he desperately tucked and zipped, mindful to not catch himself in the zipper.
"It's me," Laura called from the other side of the door. "Can I come in?"
Was it him or did Laura sound completely desperate?
"Coming," he said before he could stop himself. Not hardly...
"Hi," he said as he opened the door to a disheveled Laura. "Is something wrong, Laura?"
"Everything!" she said and stormed into his apartment. "First my mother insists on antagonizing the movers. Then she forces Francis and me to help
her decorate. She then goes on to insist that she needs to add a pool and a hot tub! THEN- " Laura stopped mid-sentence. "What's going on here?" she asked, eyes scanning Remington up and down.
He was still partially hidden behind the door.
"Um... nothing, Laura. I was just watching some television. You know, Bogart marathon..." he trailed off, displeased that she was obviously not
buying any of it.
"Did I interrupt something?" she asked and looked directly south of his waist.
Remington stood frozen behind the door.
"I'm sorry, I should have called," she said and started to walk back out the door.
"Laura, wait," he said and tugged her back into his apartment. "It's okay, really. You just caught me at a particularly embarrassing moment and I-"
"No need to explain, Mr. Steele," Laura said and held her hand up to him in emphasis. "It's perfectly natural. I'm sorry I interrupted you," she tried
again to leave, cheeks flaming red.
Damn, now he'd completely embarrassed her as well.
"You're here, Laura, and obviously upset, so you might as well stay," he said, closing the door in a motion of finality. "I'll go make us some tea."
He walked into the kitchen to make the tea, chastising himself for being so stupid. If she wasn't thoroughly disgusted with him yet, she would
obviously be now. Setting the kettle on the stove, he was glad to hear the television come to life as Laura attempted to distract herself from her
thoughts... oh *SHIT*
"Yeah baby Yeah baby. Come for ME!"
OhshitOhshitOhshit.
The television clicked off, and Remington was left with the kind of god-awful silence most associated with funeral and IRS audits. As he
expected, Laura popped her head into the kitchen.
"I think I'm going to head home, Mr. Steele. See you tomorrow," she squeaked and was out the door before Remington could peel his hands off the
counter top.
This was nowhere near good. The laughter was unexpected, and he couldn't determine whether he was laughing out of stress, fear or humility. He bet
to win on all three.