Derelict - Sex Stories

Derelict

“How long has it been?” “A long time.” I opened my desk drawer pretending to look for anything. “Fess up. How long?” I tried to deflect. “You first. How long has it been since you had sex?” “This is such an enriching meaningful work discussion that’s vital to completing Nick Shaw’s final report. Isn’t it? Oh, let me answer.” Vivie loved to pry, but she rarely gave up salacious information about herself. “No, it isn’t. But since you insist I go first, you should know that I had sex last Saturday.” “Shocking, Vivie! Can’t believe you gave it up! And with whom did you share your coitus connection?” “No, no. You’re next.” Vivie insisted. Although she didn’t tell much ever in the three years I’d known her, she did keep my personal business confidential. “It’s been a minute.” “What’s a minute?” Vivie cut across a field to the pending business at hand. “Hey, you’re gonna complete the schedule and footnote seven, right?” “A year and yes.” “A year?” Vivie closed her laptop and covered her mouth with her fingertips. I know the bitch is laughing at me. “Yea. Now tell me who got your cookie last Saturday.” Vivie, a brilliant accounting manager with a promising future, was such a skank. She had an underground reputation amongst colleagues of being an easy get. She would never tell it, but those that got always did. Couldn’t believe I was getting the foul tidbits from the cow’s mouth. “James... His name is James.” “Oh? Where did you two meet?” “We met at a club.” Woo, she is a hoe. “Met ...

... him at the club, huh? That was a one-night stand, or are you two serious?” “Neither. Vivie has needs, my friend. Sad but glad to say, James is my little fuck toy. We met about two months ago, and we get it in two or three times a week. James isn’t hubby material, but he gives it to me real good. I get the benefits without the hell and hassles, you know.” “You’re a naughty girl, Vivie.” “You should get yourself a fuck toy, girl. That will keep you from missing out... on years of smashing. C’mon, let’s go for drinks now and see who we can find for you.” “No, not me, Vivie. I don’t have it in me to give it up to just anybody from the club or off the damn street now.” “Aw, c’mon. It’ll be fun.” “Nuh uh. Plus, it’s Friday, and it’s too cold outside. I’m going home, light a fire, make some dinner, and enjoy a good book. My purse can wait,” I lied. But Vivie didn’t need to know about my masturbatory activities. “Well, I tried. I’m meeting up with James later tonight. You enjoy your weekend, okay?” “You too, Vivie.” *** My ears perked up at the scraping, the dragging of a stool across my hardwood floors toward my kitchen isle. The piercing pitch was sure to leave a gutter in the maple finish that no amount of scrubbing or waxing would cover. Took me six months to strip and re-finish that loft floor. My head dropped, chin meeting chest as the vile screeching came to an abrupt stop. That was a relief short-lived, because the incessant shuffling of hard bottom shoes against bare floors ...