The Elevator

by Cathy, The Journalist.

I would pay money for that.

It was supposed to be drinks with The Wife, but it ended up being dinner. I’d eaten, but I had dessert — chocolate cheesecake with Oreo crust. She had good taste in cocktails and I ordered what she had. Something with vodka and basil.

She was adorable, and fierce. I wanted to be her friend.

I promised them when they invited me over that I would not overstay my welcome. “I have TV to watch,” I said. And I meant it and being an introvert as well, she understood.

We chatted and he brushed off my penetrating questions. We always show love the way we want to receive it. He made me feel like what’s fucked up about me is valuable. Like there’s a market for my cutting remarks that seem to come out of nowhere and serve no purpose. There are people who want to be on the receiving end of my bile and to be honest I’d never considered that but hearing it gave me pause. We always show love the way we want to receive it.

I promised I’d be out of their hair and at 10:30 I stood up and said I’d take my leave. I loved that she did not pretend she wished I’d stay, and that helped me believe her when she said she’d like to see me again.

He said he’d walk me down and I tried to kiss him outside the door but he brushed me off and told me that was for the elevator.

“You ordered an Uber? When does it arrive?” he asked as we waited.

“Three minutes.”

“Get on your knees,” he said as the door closed.

He hit the stop button with one hand and undid his belt with the other. I put my glasses on top of the pile my coat and purse had become and went to work on his zipper and button. His cock was in my mouth and with a half erection with impressive speed. He was fully hard by the time he pushed me into the corner and told me to look up at him. I loved just complying. The second time he took it out so I didn’t throw up on the old carpet I asked him if he could come in my mouth and boy did he. I hoped I could taste it with all the mucus and spit he’d brought up but had nowhere to go because his cock head was jammed too far in for swallowing anything but it. I only tasted it a little but I felt his cock twitch from coming. I smiled as he pulled it out and the spit continued to connect us. He let the elevator move again.

“Thank you Daddy. I love you.” I said upon standing, and then ran to catch my Uber.

I would have paid money for that, the urgency and animalistic pouncing. But you just can’t, really. He showed me love in exactly the way I have always wanted to receive it.


Cathy is a writer, a pundit-turned-essayist.  Her blog is Sex and the State. Her newsletter is called Sex, Tech, and Pop Culture Daily. It goes out every weekday at noon.

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