The Fat Lady and the Nun
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FidèleChapter 42 free porn video
thud
thud
thud
“Ow.”
thud
“Ohhhhhhh...”
thud
thud
“What the... ?”
Blinding flashes of muddled memory. Nervous system reboot. Pain. Lungs rattle into motion. More pain.
Eyes struggle open. The floor. A bottle. A chair. Unexplained sparkling near the window.
At least I didn’t...
Digestive system reengaged. A desperate and pathetic crawl to the bathroom. Just barely in time.
The cool porcelain whispered of sleep. He listened.
thud
thud
thud
“Ow.”
thud
God, what a horrible taste.
His porcelain savior once again offered comfort. Judging it wiser to remain in place for a while, Luke cuddled the basin as his most loyal friend, resting his sore cheek on the seat. It was wisdom rewarded time and time again. Eventually, with nothing left in his stomach except regret, his religious experience came to an end. Though the urge lingered and revisited for the remainder of the day, he had no more left to give. Only the emptiness of well-earned suffering.
Several rounds of oral cleansing later, his mouth was restored to reasonable tolerability, though about his breath there was little to be done. He probed the throbbing at the back of his skull. The pain turned sharp the moment he touched it, and when he retrieved his fingers they were dusted with flakes of dried blood. More thorough study revealed a small gash that he’d reopened with his exploration. I’m going to lose some hair trying to fix this.
Stripping off his clothes, he discovered even more bruises. His elbow felt like it might be seriously injured, and he shuffled into the kitchen for some ice. It was then that he finally recalled the full measure of the previous night’s carnage. He righted the chair — unlike him, it seemed undamaged — and moved the empty bottles to the counter, but decided to leave the rest of the cleanup for later.
Ten minutes later, he was asleep. In his bed, for a change.
It was early evening when he finally dragged himself out of bed. Judging by the way he felt, he knew he was still a long way from the end of his hangover. A shower and fresh clothing helped little. Nor did cleaning up the damage caused by his anger and desperation. Unpacking his suitcase was more than he could manage in his current state, but he knew he had to at least try to eat. Throwing on a light coat, he made a zombie-like trip to his favorite bodega for a few essentials and an atypically bland sandwich. The owner was so surprised by his order that he began interrogating him, but when Luke mimed the universal sign for drinking too much, the questions were replaced by an empathetic nod. He was back in his apartment, attempting to psych himself up for a meal his stomach was rather forcefully protesting, when his phone chirped.
Did you manage to kill yourself?Tried and failed.
How hard?
No sleep, no food, bottle of Champagne, bottle of 1964 Bas-Armagnac, an entire day of heaves that turned from wet to dry, one broken crystal stem, one broken cheap-ass tumbler, bleeding from the back of my head, ice pack on my elbow, probably some other things I haven’t discovered yet.
Jesus fucking Christ, Luke.
On the bright side, I had a lovely day date with my toilet, and I think we’re going to keep seeing each other.
Finally, someone other than me that’s used to putting up with your shit.
Clever. Even better, it doesn’t talk back as often as you do.
Food?
I’m staring at it now. The problem is that it’s staring back.
Did you do something dumb like get sushi?
Turkey, lettuce, American cheese, no condiments or pickles or peppers, white bread.
Jesus, that’s sad.
I know.
Eat something anyway, you pathetic motherfucker.
I thought we were on a two-week hiatus.
I wanted to make sure you didn’t die before I had the chance to yell at you.
Mission accomplished.
Oh no. This isn’t yelling. But I promise that if you drink yourself to death over the next two weeks, I’ll come over and kill you myself.
Luke sent her a heart emoji and put down his phone. I’m not even close to ready for Wendy. It’s a good thing she insisted on a break.
She broke several of her promises the very next day, banging on his apartment door far earlier in the morning than he had any intention of experiencing. He stumbled to the door, groggy and confused. Though not as confused as he was when he opened it.
“How did you... ?”
“You get three questions. All must be answerable by a single word. There will be no additional conversation. Is that clear?”
“Yeah.”
She pushed past him and dropped four overstuffed bags of groceries on the counter, then turned to face him. “You look like shit.”
“Of course I do. It’s an accurate representation.”
“So? Questions? Or can I get on with my day?”
“How did you get into the building?”
“Claire.”
“Lover?”
“Former.” She held up two fingers, impatiently tapping her foot.
He took a deep breath. “You brought me a bunch of healthy, restorative things like vegetables, because you knew I’d spend the next two weeks hiding in my cave and existing on a diet of fattening takeout and booze, and you did it because behind all your bitterness, sarcasm, anger, and frustration over the way I’ve been conducting my life, you still care about me.”
Instead of answering, she sighed and walked to the door. Just before it closed behind her, she muttered, “Exactly.”
By the end of the first week, the first slender threads of order had been restored to Luke’s life. With the exception of one far less disruptive relapse, he managed to avoid drinking to excess, though a day-long experiment with abstinence proved beyond his current resilience. Wendy’s groceries helped, and by the time he was in need of more, he was making tentative attempts to exercise. He’d worked out so infrequently at the lake that he was in relatively terrible shape, and his destructive binges hadn’t helped. But I bet I could still run a sexual marathon, he mused, as his sluggish feet dragged him through a nearby park.
The thought, of course, filled his mind with images of Kathryn. Not that it was ever entirely free of her, but there were certain moods, situations, and moments that made him unable to focus on anything else. He occasionally experienced mild arousal while revisiting his memories, but — at least so far — he felt no need for sexual release. I guess Wendy didn’t need to buy those two boxes of extra-strength tissues after all.
Early in the second week, he managed to attend his first tasting since his return. Industry colleagues were thrilled to see him back, and peppered him with questions about his absence. He’d prepared for this with an array of responses that he hoped sounded more uninteresting than evasive, and though the interrogation was renewed with every fresh group of old acquaintances, he eventually judged the attempt a success.
And then it was Sunday night, two weeks after his return to the city. He texted Wendy a single word — Tonight? — and she responded in the affirmative.
This time, she kept the first half of her promise, helping him descend into serious inebriation while he opened his heart and succumbed to uncontrollable tears at her bar. But it wasn’t until the next morning that he realized she’d broken the rest of it; when he rolled over, he discovered that she was in bed with him. On top of the covers and fully clothed, but still there.
A little while later, they were sipping coffee at his table. He noted that she was wearing flannel pajamas decorated with anthropomorphic dildos, which meant that she’d brought an overnight bag and that her lingering had been planned all along.
“Wendy, thank you. You’re my guardian angel.”
“I’m sure as hell no goddamned fucking angel. But you do need one, surrounded as you are by demons. Most of them your own.”
“I’m sorry. I know I dumped a lot on you last night.”
“More like a biblical flood, but yeah, you did. And by the way, the purpose of guardian angels is that you’re supposed to listen to them, dumbass.”
“As you’ve told me many times, I’m slow. So what do you think about... ?”
“No. We’re not having this conversation. First of all, there’s that flood I mentioned, and it’s going to take me a while to avoid drowning in it. Second, there’s the gap between what I think and what you’re prepared to hear. Third, there’s what’s best for you, and that might be completely different than the other two. In any case, none of those thoughts are going to pass my lips until I’ve purged some shit in the direction of your ears. So you can sit there and wait until I’m ready.”
“Okay. Still, I really am grateful for last night. All of it. I certainly didn’t expect you’d still be here this morning.”
She studied her coffee mug for a while. “Luke, I’m going to tell you something about yourself. I don’t want you to get angry, but I need you to think about it for a while. You and I both know that most people in our field are, at least on occasion, high-functioning alcoholics. Yeah, there are some who’ve managed to give it up and stay dry, but not many. Most of us drink to what any rational observer would call excess. It just so happened that your lover fit right in to our world and is more than a bit of a high-functioning alcoholic herself — though I’m sure her situation had a lot to do with that — so you had nothing even close to a respite while you were out there. But when you’re feeling bad about things, or yourself, you drink alone, and you drink a lot. Too much. Way too much.”
Luke scrolled back through his memories, thinking about the times he’d been dangerously drunk. When I first learned that Kathryn was married ... the night of the charity gala, when she gave me the handjob ... the night she and Bill were all over each other at dinner ... when I realized how little time we had left ... the day they spent together on the lake... He saw the pattern, realized she was completely correct, and told her so.
“I knew there’d be no stopping you on your first night back, but this is why I had to check on you. Still, it was way worse than even I’d predicted, which is part of why I brought you food the next day. But the more I started thinking about last night, the more I realized I didn’t quite trust you to stop drinking once I got you home, bucket alongside the bed or not. That’s why I decided to stay.”
“I didn’t...”
“I know you didn’t, and that’s because I made sure you were too drunk to keep drinking long before we left the bar. Do you remember falling asleep in the corner while we cleaned?”
“Uh, not exactly, but there are some gaps...”
“That’s fine, I didn’t figure you’d remember. I feel like I had to carry your fat ass all the way from my bar to your bed. Which reminds me: you have got to lose some weight. Anyway, my point is that it’s fine when it’s with me or other people you can trust. One day, when everything’s back to normal between us, you and I can get drunk together just like we used to. But you have to be a lot more careful about your solo binges, Luke. They’re a little scary, and from what you told me last night, they’re getting more frequent.”
He nodded. “You’re right, they are. Thank you for warning me. I’m still suffering, and it’s hard, but I’ll try to be careful.”
“Speaking of hard, have you blown a hole in those tissues yet?”
“Haven’t even opened the boxes.”
“Really? I mean, even through you’re especially gross and unattractive right now, and you have to reacquaint yourself with a razor, you’re usually good for a solo rubdown now and then. What happened?”
“No interest.”
She stared at him, considering. “Luke, it’s time to listen to your guardian demoness for a change: you need to get laid. Well, get back in shape first. And then get back on the horse. Anyone’s horse.”
“I don’t suppose...”
“Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
“Okay, okay. But I’m not exactly in the mood to date, and...”
“Who the fuck said anything about dating? Just go bang someone. Jesus, hire a fucking hooker if you have to.” His face clearly expressed his indecision, and she grew audibly frustrated. “She may be the best, but she’s not the only. Even if Tinkerbell comes and waves her magic vibrator at the two of you, it’s not going to be soon. You told me she wants you to do this. I want you to to do this. I know there have to be girls who are so desperate that they want you to do this. Why are you the only one who doesn’t?”
“Because they won’t measure up. Because I’ll either be comparing them to her, or thinking about her while I’m with them. And because I’m afraid that if I don’t, I might not even be able to ... you know.”
“Get it up? Then don’t call someone who’s going to give you grief about it. What about your unapologetically slutty friend? If anyone can raise your mast, it’s her.”
“Liz? After last time I can’t...”
“It’s been, what, about four months? A lot can change. Give her a ring. I bet she’ll be up for it.”
“Speaking of dating...”
“It was nice. We had fun. That’s all you need to know. Don’t push.”
“Sorry.”
It took him several days to drum up the courage, but when he did, he learned that Wendy was right.
“Luke!“ Liz squealed, exploding in laughter at the volume of her outburst. “Okay, now all my coworkers know what I sound like when you make me come,” she whispered, still laughing. “Can I call you back in a few minutes? I’ll find an empty conference room or something.”
His phone rang before he’d even finished putting it down. “Before we start, is this a touching or a no-touching call?”
“Seriously?”
“I just need to know if should lock the door or not.”
He’d forgotten just how brazen she could be, and it made him smile. “Let’s say it’s a call about touching. Or rather, inquiring about the possibility of touching.”
“Baby, does that mean your dick’s back on the market?”
“Well, it’s more complicated than that, but the short answer’s yes. For now, at least. After our last time, though, I...”
“Oh, don’t worry about it. I missed you so much that you can call out whatever name you want. I haven’t had a worthwhile ass-fucking since you left — your gender is populated by fumbling cretins — so expect to be doing a lot of that. Name your night and I’ll be there. Or you can come over, if you’d rather.”
His own burst of laughter was as much a release of tension as it was delight at her lighthearted sexuality. “I didn’t think it would be this easy, so I didn’t have one in mind.”
“I’m hurt, Luke. Because I really am this easy, and you forgot. Anyway ... and I really don’t mean to put you off, but I just remembered that there’s a reason ... how about next Tuesday or Wednesday? I just had an extended fling with a super-hot designer that was working with one of our clients, and the last of it was bareback; so while we were both tested before we got to that stage, I’d like to be sure. And baby, while you know that I trust you...”
“No, you’re right, and it’s a good idea, considering it’s been a long and very interesting while. I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”
“Yay! If we’re gonna be at your place, remember to stock up on lube. I’m in a serious drought when it comes to butt stuff, and you’re the best I’ve ever had back there.”
“The designer wan’t interested?”
“He thought it was nasty.”
“His loss.”
“Exactly! Okay, baby, I’m gonna rub one out while thinking about you bending me over this conference table, but then I have to get back to work. I’m so excited! Mmmwah!“
He was still grinning at the phone when Wendy texted.
Remember what we talked about?I’ve kept it to a half-bottle or two cocktails.
The other thing.
Liz is up for it.
I knew it. Now go take down someone else.
What?
Liz is easy. No disrespect intended, but she is. Go poke your sweaty schlong into some other willing victim. One who’s not already in your contacts.
Why?
Because you need to prove to yourself that you still can. Because you need to remember that there’s a sex life beyond you know who.
Can I at least verify that all the equipment works first?
Fine, but don’t hesitate once you do. And Luke? For her sake, shave your nutsack. I’m sure it’s disgustingly hairy by now.
Deciding that getting out of the apartment was its own worthy goal, Luke met Liz at her place for an early dinner of takeout sushi. At around four in the morning, she weakly shoved him away and did something she’d never done before: begged him to stop.
“You were really, really good before, but now you’re a fucking sex god. I’m not going to be able to walk straight for a week, I’m sore everywhere, and I squirted so much I might have to replace another mattress. I should just have them delivered on a monthly schedule or something. Who in the hell is this woman, and when can I meet her? Never mind, too tired, spoon me and let me get at least a little sleep. Set an alarm for seven. No, fifteen minutes of. Gives us time for a morning quickie. ‘night!”
Luke smiled at the barrage of words, tapped his phone a few times, and embraced her from behind. While Kathryn had indeed popped into his mind on occasion, especially at the beginning, it was far less often than he’d feared. As he drifted into sleep, however, he wondered if that was a good or a bad thing.
Whatever energy he’d driven out of her the night before, she recovered it for a frenetic morning reprise. As she bustled around her apartment getting ready for work, she asked if he had any plans for later. When he admitted that he didn’t, she invited herself over to his place for another round. “No need to follow me out. For now, just relax. Sleep in if you want, shower whenever. I don’t think there’s much food, but help yourself. And I give you permission to dig through my drawers in an attempt to discover all my naughty secrets. There are a few here and there, though all the real action’s on my laptop, and you’re going to have to figure out the password yourself. If you find something sufficiently interesting, promise that you’ll use something I wear or sleep on and leave me a little gift. Bye!”
Their sexual escapades that night — at his apartment, this time — were even more exhausting than the night before, and as she rolled back and forth in post-orgasmic ecstasy, guarding her ravaged holes with shaking hands, she offered an extremely uncharacteristic proposal.
“Can we make this a regular thing?”
“I’m absolutely not saying no, but this is ... unlike you.”
“Oh, don’t worry,” she laughed, “I’m not getting all clingy or looking for any sort of commitment. It’s just that ... well, you used to be a fantastic lover, and it was always exciting to hook up with you. Now, you’re a master. You’re so good that I’m afraid I’m going to start canceling on other partners just because I know you’re going to fuck me so much better than they will. On the other hand, I don’t want it to be so often that I get addicted. Every two weeks, maybe? With the option to get together more often, of course.” To this he readily agreed, pleased to have such an enthusiastic and unproblematic outlet for his sexual desires. “And now, since I’m in desperate need of a break from your beautiful cock — which I see is still hard, by the way, and you’ll have to tell me which devil owns your soul in exchange for that never-ending erection — I’m going to sit here and you’re going to tell me all about her. I won’t be able to offer much emotional support, but I’m a good listener.”
She was, and he did.
When he got to the part Kathryn had encouraged — the assertion that Liz had been demoted to third place amongst his lovers — she was only shocked for a moment. Then her eyes grew as sultry as her smile. “And you won’t tell me who she is.”
“Absolutely not.”
“How hard should I try to force you to tell me?”
“Please don’t. I’ve already blown it twice. I can’t do it a third time. Anyway, I don’t think that’s what Kathryn had in mind.”
“Oh, I know she didn’t. That vixen wanted me to try to fuck you to death in order to reclaim my title. Right?”
“Uh, I think so.”
“Well, then. Let’s see about your carnal demise, shall we?”
Neither of them got any sleep that night. But in the middle of the following afternoon, Luke received a phone call from a very sleepy Liz.
“You look like a man who’s been getting laid,” Wendy remarked as he wearily settled into his usual spot at her bar.
He nodded, a bit sheepish and more than a bit fatigued. “One night turned into two, then three, then four. I’ve never known Liz to be like this, but...”
“Addicted to your schlong, is she?”
He blushed as he shrugged. “I think it’s a little more complicated than that. Yes, I’m apparently much better than before, and she’s exploring what that means. Plus, Kathryn laid down a bit of a gauntlet that...”
“Lemme guess. She told you to hold the fact that both she and your slutty supermodel are better lovers over Liz’s head.”
“Uh...”
“That’s what I though. Manipulative bitch.”
“Wendy!“
“I meant it as a compliment. Since you told her about it, Liz has been trying to fuck your nuts off, hasn’t she?”
“I didn’t exactly tell her about it — yes, I finally learned how to keep a secret — but yeah,” he responded, unable to hold back his grin. Wendy rolled her eyes.
“And you’ve been outlasting her, haven’t you? Thanks to all the evil sexual arts you learned in the cavernous depths of your insatiable succubus.”
“As you know very well, they’re not cavernous, and I ... well, yes, I suppose, but...”
“And she keeps coming back for more. How many dates, or whatever, did she break to spend the week getting railed by you?”
“Uh ... a few, I think, but...”
“So now she can’t get enough of you. Pretty soon she won’t want anyone else unless you want them for her.”
“No, it’s not like that. She’s...”
“I presume you’re not fucking all the time.”
“No. Actually, that’s been the really interesting part. She’s being a really good friend right now, and...”
“Yes, yes, she’s a nymphomaniac with a heart of gold. I thought you said she’s incapable of emotional commitment.”
“That’s still true.”
“It’s about to be untrue.” Wendy shook her head, muttering, “It’s like a virus. A disease. Kathryn is Patient Zero, and now it’s spreading.”
“Huh?”
“Liz — no-commitment, fun-loving, used to be more than you could handle, screws her way through the known universe with no regrets — is halfway to moving in with you. Oh, she won’t make it formal and neither will you. And she’s still her, so you’ll be able to fuck anyone else you want, with or without her involved ... which is the best of all possible worlds, isn’t it? Except she’ll never love you, and you’ll never love her. You’ll both kinda half-feel it, and then you’ll be stuck.” She leaned over the bar. “She’s your replacement. You’re setting up the exact same scenario you had with Kathryn, except now you’re in the driver’s seat and there’s no risk or pain, because your connection only goes so far. But the moment your crimson unicorn calls, you’ll go running and Liz will be ... well, what will she be? Hurt?
“I don’t know, and I think you’re being a little unfair. She’s free with her body, yeah, but she’s the most honest person I’ve ever known, and she’s really quite kind. We even...”
“You’re white knighting all over my bar. It’s worse than jizz. Stop it before I have to get a rag. She’s not devoid of emotions, dumbass. No one is. You get deep enough inside her — I don’t mean her pussy, though that’s probably the easiest path — and she’ll have some. For you. And maybe you’ll have some for her. But she’ll never be more than a substitute for what you really want. Even then, she’ll never actually be second on your list, will she? She’s trying to be, though. You have to turn this volume down, and you have to do it now.”
“Weren’t you the one who was encouraging me to get laid?”
“Yes, and I still am. You absolutely shouldn’t stop with Liz. Just cool it down a little. And for the love of all that’s unholy, go fuck someone else. Any candidates?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe.”
“Good. Let me know if you need a wingwoman. Experience demonstrates that I’m skilled at getting you comprehensively laid. Now, are you ready to drink non-alcoholic beverages while I vent months of accumulated rage at you?”
“I doubt it, but I’ll persevere under one condition.”
“Which is?”
“Any more dates?”
To his surprise, Wendy blushed. “Yes.”
“You realize my condition doesn’t end there.”
She sighed. “Fine. Two more, and another one scheduled. Yes, we had sex both times, sorta. I met Sasha. She didn’t hate me as much as I thought she would, and the feeling was surprisingly mutual. Satisfied?”
He leaned back. “Very.”
“Good. Now, listen carefully you stupid son of a bitch...”
“I’ll have the Division Gamay Noir.”
“Of course, and thank you. Because I just won.”
“Huh?”
“I bet Greg you’d order that.”
“I guess I’m predictable. Is he here?”
“He might be there, actually. Division, I mean. He’s on a research trip to Oregon.”
“A wine-soaked junket, you mean? Drooling over Kate?”
“Isn’t that what I said? You know as well as I do how drool-worthy she is.” Terrence, the only bartender at Caveau that he knew by name, grinned and walked away, returning a few moments later with an extremely generous pour.
“I’m sorry, Terrence, but I actually meant the bottle. Not that you didn’t just give me about half of it.”
“I know you did. But even though he’s not here, Greg has plans for you.”
“Oh no.”
“You’re right to be worried. Though for what it’s worth, I don’t think he’s the only one with plans.”
“What do you... ?” His question trailed off as Terrence smirked, turned, and escaped to the other end of the bar.
“Hey, stranger.” The faintly accented voice was directly behind him. “It’s been a while.”
“It hasn’t been that long,” he responded, turning to face her. “And until my last visit, you didn’t even know who I was.”
“Oh, but you’re wrong about that. I asked about you every time you came in. I’m pretty sure that’s why I was assigned to your table.”
“Really? Why?”
“Really.” She said it with a half-purr, moving a little closer than was strictly acceptable between staff and a patron. “As for why, surely I don’t have to explain that.”
“Then why didn’t you... ?”
“Strongly discouraged by management, and difficult to hide when I had no reason to be chatting up people at the bar, which is the only place you ever sat. Plus, your last visit didn’t exactly seem like an opportunity, though if I’d only known ... anyway, Greg’s not here right now, is he?”
“So I’m told. Olivia, you’re looking very well. It’s really nice to see you again.”
“You’re looking solo, Mr. Bronson. I haven’t been on the floor very much tonight, but I didn’t see your lady come in, and if she is here, she still hasn’t commandeered a table or a bar seat. Anything happening in the alley that I should know about, or better yet join?”
He smiled, though it was fraught and she quite obviously noticed. “I can’t speak with any sort of authority about the alley, but she’s not here ... and, unfortunately, she’s not my lady.”
“But I thought...” She gestured at her neck, her eyes full of questions. He lifted his left hand and pointed at his unadorned ring finger. “Ah. So you two were being even naughtier than I realized.” She turned her head to scan the room for urgent needs, then returned her attention to him. “Why are you here, Mr. Bronson?”
“Call me Luke, please. Even my dad doesn’t respond to Mr. Bronson. I’m here to enjoy some nice wine and food, to get away from some things that need getting away from, and to see someone I was eager to see again.”
“Is that so?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “Well, don’t hurry through our wine list. Who knows what might happen later?”
They were in her small apartment, a few subway stops from the restaurant, in a relatively quiet residential area. It was messy — she’d made him wait in the hallway while she frantically cleared a place for him to sit — and pointedly youthful; the longer he stayed, the more he felt like he was cradle-robbing, even though she wasn’t that much younger than him. At the moment, she was issuing her fourth apology for the low quality of the wine she was pouring into his glass.
“Olivia, stop. Though I’m immensely grateful for the hospitality, I’m not here to judge your wine selection.”
Maris
- 08.02.2021
- 40
- 0
