AUDIENCE OF ONE

The second time I saw Michael was at a smaller pack event, the kind that did not make it onto anyone's content calendar because nothing politically significant enough to document was supposed to happen there. Kenny had sent me alone because he had obligations elsewhere, which happened often enough that I had stopped reading meaning into it.

The venue was a private rooftop on the west side, maybe for sixty people; I arrived and settled into the room gratefully.

I saw him near the far railing. He looked like a man who had arrived somewhere and was simply waiting for the specific thing that would make the arrival worthwhile.

I told myself I was not going to approach him. But I did.

"You're at another one of these," I said.

He looked at me without surprise. "So are you..."

"I come to these for work."

"I know," he said.

"Why do you come?"

"To watch."

"Watch what?"

"How people behave when they think the hierarchy is stable." He looked briefly at the room. "It tells you more than the major gatherings do. The big events everyone performs for. These ones people forget too."

I followed his gaze across the room. 

"You see it too," he said, not as a question.

"I've always seen it."

"Then why pretend you don't?"

I looked at him and said, "Because seeing it and saying it out loud are different things." 

Something shifted in his expression. "That's the most honest thing you've said to me."

"You've known me for approximately four hours total."

"Long enough," he said simply.

We stood there for a moment in a silence that did not have the usual social pressure to fill it.

"You didn't acknowledge me," I said. Last time. At the Vassen event. Afterward."

"I know."

"That was deliberate."

"Yes."

I waited for an explanation. He did not offer one. That was another thing about him. He said yes and meant yes and apparently considered that sufficient.

"Why?" I said.

"Because you needed to think about what I said without me around to complicate it." He looked at me directly. "Did you?"

"Yes," I said.

"And?"

"And I don't have an answer yet."

He nodded like that was exactly what he had expected. Just receiving information. "That's fine," he said. "The question keeps."

Who are you when no one is watching?

He looked back at the city beyond the railing, and I looked at his profile and thought about what it would feel like to be inside that kind of stillness, that complete absence of need for the room's opinion, and could not fully imagine it from the inside of the life I was living.

A pack elder caught my eye from across the rooftop, and I excused myself and moved back into the current of the evening, where I spent the next hour.

When I looked back an hour later, he was gone.

I went home horny, to the apartment where Kenny was, already asleep, as I lay beside him in the dark. 

Kenny stirred beside me and reached for me in the half-conscious way he did sometimes in the night. His arms came around me and pulled me closer, and then he kissed me softly and intensely. He ran his fingers into her hair and grabbed a handful while his tongue danced with mine. His fingers traced down my spine, and then he grabbed my ass and pulled me against his bulge. He sucked hard, and I let out a moan as I felt a rush flow through me. I'd already spread my legs, I had no bra on, and my small pink nipples were standing erect from my sweet tits. 

He placed his hand over one and twisted my nipples lightly. I leaned down and sucked on his lips like my life depended on it; slowly he made his way down my jaw and my neck, my collarbone, and finally my hard little nipples. He kissed and licked it, flicking it with his tongue, and then I let out another moan, loudly. My breathing was getting harder as I let my hands down to my panties. 

He made his way once again down my body, pausing to suck on my hard nipples and going farther down, licking my belly button. When he got to the edge of my panties, he tore my panties aside. There was a wet spot on my white cotton panties. He bent down and licked it. As soon as he did, I let out the breath I was holding in a loud moan. My well-shaved pussy was so wet already. He leaned down and kissed my coochie with his hands on my thighs. Then he spread my legs, stroking the wet center. Biting my lip, he slid his middle finger into my dripping pussy. He leaned back from me as he slid in and out of me. He pulled his middle finger out of me and licked my wet juice from his finger. He spit on my wet pussy and then started to slide his fingers in and out. It was much harder and tighter with two fingers, Godddd!!! It felt so good, I started to moan loudly.

I arched my back and then raised my hips, giving him better access. He then lowered himself and spread my lips with his other hand, revealing my swollen little clit peeking out from under its hood; he dropped his head down and began to suck it. At this, I screamed…

“FUCK ME!” I grabbed the back of his head and pressed it against my wet pussy. He flicked his tongue over my clit and even pinched it with his teeth a little. I just kept screaming. 

“Yeah yeah yeah yeah," I cried. 

Raising her ass from the bed, trying to slide in my big black cock. With one last moan, "Fuck," she hit her limit, and warm juice squirted from her pussy, soaking her neck and arms.

He whispered. 

“I love you, Cindy."

“I love you too, Kenny," and we fell asleep.

That was what I needed to hear badly.

Afterward, he slept immediately the way he always did, and I lay in the dark.

I closed my eyes.

Outside, the city kept running its enormous engine, and somewhere in it a man who needed nothing from any room he walked into was sleeping without any of this, and I did not know whether that made him fortunate or simply alone in a way I did not yet have the courage to be.