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Written and Contributed by Nobilis

Hannah opened the door of the coffee shop, surveyed the room, and sighed with relief. What she had come here to do, she didn’t want to do with too many witnesses. She held the door open for her companion, a tall fellow with dark hair bound into a long braid that ran down his back. He smiled and nodded politely.

“Have a seat,” she said, waving vaguely in the direction of the easy chairs in the back of the shop.

“I’m buying. What would you like?”

“Oh, just a tall drip,” he said. “I’m not really a big fan of espresso.”

“Milk and sugar?”

“Black.”

Hannah went up to the counter and ordered two cups. When they arrived,
she carried them over to the chairs, steaming and aromatic. She set
them down on the little table between the chairs, and sat down
demurely.

“So we’re here,” he said, “and we have our coffee. Can you tell me
what this is about, now?”

Hannah closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You have every right
to be impatient. I’ve been very vague about why I wanted to bring you
out of the office, and you’ve been great about going along with it
all. But before I say anything else, Conrad, I want you to promise
that you’ll let me finish before you say anything.”

“Sure,” he said. “I promise.”

“This has been a long time coming. I have tried everything to stop it.
Nothing has worked… the shrinks, the drugs…”

Conrad’s eyebrow twitched..

She caught his glance and clasped her hands in her lap.

“I… I think of you when I masturbate. I can’t think of anything, anyone but you.
I’ve tried to stop but my mind just keeps on coming back.”

Conrad blinked, then quirked a half a smile. “Did you say…”

“Yes… I did.”

“Why are you telling me?”

“I have to. It’s consuming me. I did it six times on Friday. Twice in
the bathroom at the office, and once at my desk after everyone else
had gone. Then eight times on Saturday, and nine yesterday. Conrad,
it’s consuming me. It’s becoming an obsession.”

“Alright… but that doesn’t answer my question.”

“No, you don’t understand. I’m telling you so I’ll stop. I’m telling
you so that you’ll know what a freak I am and it’ll break this
terrible tension.”

Conrad shook his head and sat back in the seat.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. This is a joke, right? Robin put you up to this. It’s some
kind of dare.”

“I’m telling the truth, Conrad.”

“Why me? I’m no one special,” he said. “I’m just Conrad from Q.A.”

She picked up her cup and sipped. It was a little too hot, still, but
the cup felt good in her hands. “I don’t know. It’s not rational.”

“So you’re saying you’re obsessed with me. Is this some kind of a proposition?”

“No, just the opposite… I want to make it stop.”

“Well… you’ve told me.” He was looking into her eyes. He took a sip
from his cup, still holding her glance.

She looked down.

He set his cup back on the saucer. “Prove it.”

She looked up at him, a question in her eyes.

“Prove it,” he repeated. His voice was low, quiet, but carried
authority.

He meant it.

Her hands started to shake.

“Conrad, no, I…”
She looked over at the barista. She was doing something with the espresso machine, paying
Hannah no attention.

“Prove it.”

Hannah drew in a shaky breath. Her hand clutched the hem of her skirt
where it swung back from the point of her knee. She swallowed and
turned towards Conrad, away from the bright windows.

“Yes,” she said.”That will do it. That will make me stop. One last time, right here.”

She pulled the hem of her skirt up, slowly, along the side of her
thigh, her eyes locked with Conrad’s. She spread her knees apart, just
a little, just enough, and her hand disappeared under the skirt.

“That’s it,” said Conrad. “Show me you mean it.”

Hannah’s hand burrowed deeper. Conrad could see the unmistakable
movement in his peripheral vision, but he kept his eyes on Hannah’s
face. He watched her eyes become heavy-lidded, languid. He saw her
lips part and her jaw grow slack. She bit her lip, lightly, and a
little shudder passed through her body. She drew in a breath in four
short gasps and held it, still staring into Conrad’s eyes. Her elbows
pulled in tight against her body, and her knees bent, pulling her feet
to the base of the chair. Slowly, her body grew taut, a wire that ran
from Conrad’s eyes, through the chair, through the espresso machine
and the barista and the out into the air, into the sky, vibrating,
thrumming, stretching until it snapped.

Hannah’s breath escaped, and she bent forward, clamping her hand
between her thighs. Her breathing became heavy, almost labored, and
quiet moans escaped her lips. Slowly, slowly, the spasms passed.
She pushed herself back upright in her chair. Her face was flushed and
a thin sheen of perspiration had broken out on her forehead. She
straightened her skirt.

Conrad made a reassuring motion in the direction of the barista. “It’s
okay,” he said, quietly, “She’s fine.” The barista went back to cleaning her machine.

Hannah took a handkerchief from her purse, and wiped her forehead.

“I… I better go clean up,” she said. “I can’t go back to the office
like this.”

She rose and walked to the rest room, unsteady, almost shaking.

Hannah washed her hands and looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair
was disheveled, her makeup needed work. The feeling hadn’t gone away.
She pulled out a brush and started putting her hair back in order.

“I’m going to have to quit,” she said to her reflection. “That’s all
there is to it.”

“That would be a shame,” said Conrad, closing the door behind him.

Hannah spun around. “Conrad… we can’t. We…”

Conrad put a finger to her lips. “Sshh.”

He leaned down, and kissed her, a quick brush of the lips, and then again, with passionate
intensity. He pulled her to him, one arm at the small of her back, the
other behind her head. She held his shoulders desperately.
When they broke the embrace, Hannah looked into Conrad’s eyes, and
then took his left hand in hers.

With trembling fingers she gently
removed the plain golden band from his fourth finger, and set it on
the immaculate white porcelain sink. Another ring, smaller than his,
joined it moments later.

Conrad started to unbutton Hannah’s blouse, but she pushed his hands
away and pulled her blouse up out of her skirt, lifting her pink satin
bra along with it. Her pale breasts, tipped by pink fleshy beads,
shone in the fluorescent light. Conrad took one in each hand and
lavished attention on them with his lips and tongue. Hannah leaned
back against the wall and sighed, running her hands through Conrad’s
hair.

“Now, Conrad. No more preliminaries.”

She reached up under her skirt and pulled down a pink satin thong. It fell heavily around her
ankles. She turned and pulled her skirt up over her waist, and then
braced herself against the wall.

“Now.”

Conrad unbuckled his pants and dropped them to the ground. His keys
and coins clashed against the tiles. With another swift motion, his
boxers joined them, and his full, pulsing prick lowered like the guns
of the New Jersey taking aim. He placed one hand cradling Hannah’s sex
and the other on her hips, and gently guided his cock into position.
Slowly, he eased his way in, savoring the sensation…

“Dammit, Conrad, fuck me!” She slammed her body backwards, pushing off
from the wall, impaling herself on Conrad’s member. Conrad tried not
to laugh.

“She’s going to hear you,” he said, quietly, as he started a
gentle rhythm with his hips.

“I don’t care!” Hannah grunted and pushed backwards again.

“Harder!”

Conrad obliged her.

“Is that better?”

Hannah moaned.

She reached back and grabbed one of Conrad’s wide hands
and brought it up to her breast. Even without the callouses of heavy
labor, his hand felt rough and masculine. Her nipple poked insistently
into his palm. He brought his other hand up and groped her greedily.
He crouched over her, while she used her leverage against the wall to
force herself backwards against him, meeting his thrusts.

“I guess that’s better,” he said between growling moans.

Conrad’s breathing got deeper, and his voice dropped.

“Oh, yeah.”

His jaws clamped together and his grunts emerged through gritted teeth.
Hannah could feel the pulse of his cock, each throb making it even
harder, even thicker. He pushed forward, holding Hannah wedged against
the wall. After a moment, he started thrusting again, a little slower.
Hannah’s fingers rubbed furiously at her flower, and she arched her
back, narrowly missing Conrad’s nose with her head. Conrad took the
opportunity to nip her neck where it met her shoulder.

Hannah suddenly went quiet, holding her breath. Her body spasmed
around him, and he held her tight while she twitched and bucked. She
released a long, guttural breath, and he held her tighter as her body
relaxed again. When she had recovered enough from her orgasm to hold
herself up again, he straightened and put his hands back on her hips.
Conrad didn’t hold himself back. He flung his body against hers. He
let his body set the meter of his movements. As his own body tensed
and coiled, he growled out his passion, until at last it burst forth,
and his ecstasy shouted her name in exultation.

They stood there, conjoined, breathing, gliding, the connection
between them fading from white hot metal back to gentle silk bonds.
They re-arranged their clothes and tried to erase the evidence of
their lovemaking. Conrad picked up his ring and slipped it back into
its well-accustomed place.

“Well,” he said, a crooked smile on his face, “did you have fun, honey?”

She put on its mate and poked him in the ribs. “Honestly…”