A beer bottle, coated in perspiration sat before him, like an obedient hound. His eyes flicked along the bar looking for a likely mark, someone who fit the 'type' perfectly. It was the only way to make it work.He sighed in frustration. It was nearing midnight and he hadn't found the right kind of poor sap yet.He wanted it. Fuck. He needed it. The thrill. The rush. He loved finding the perfect mark. It wasn't anything perverse or sexual. It was just good, clean fun. The kind that left him with a. She’d grown bored with the people she knew, bored with relationships, with sex. It had all become so predictable, so unsatisfying. She did not want the marriage proposals she was offered. She did not want the tedium of romance, the tender, considerate sex, the avowals of love. She did not want the roses; she wanted something more direct, more physical. She wanted the thorns.She stopped on a street corner illuminated by a dim yellow streetlight that barely penetrated the humid air, leaving dark. Yes of course ... oh, Vivian? There is one more thing." And that is?" The girl ... she should be a young black girl with strong anal tendencies." That's easy enough. Uh ... Sybille will be at your office in, oh, let's say, thirty minutes?" Wonderful. Thank you Vivian." Thank you Doctor."Later that afternoon Alice began pawing Robert from the moment he set foot in her apartment. It had been his intention to take Alice to lunch and bring the matter up at the right moment, but it seemed Alice had. She stood up and turned around, looking me in the eyes.“Mister Chris,” she said, and, as she had nothing planned for the rest of the sentence and I had no reply, we put our arms around each other and kissed.Airis gave herself to the kiss and the embrace with nothing held back. Her breasts pressed my chest, her pubic area found mine, and our bodies communicated in a silent crackle of transmissions that said more than a thousand words, or a thousand pictures, for that matter. My hands squeezed.
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