A Handshake Followed by Sex.
A Handshake Followed by Sex. fiction stories
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trustmenot
trustmenot I write when im stoned or high, or both.
Autoplay OFF   •   2 years ago
something different for a change.

A Handshake Followed by Sex.

1962, Brooklyn.

I walk into that bar drenched not bothered by the horrid smell of the piss and sweat that lurks,

sit my ass in the only stool that has two other stools vacant next to it and ask for a warm Rheingold.

as I take a sip of my 4th glass, the worst happens, the smell of piss and sweat of the unemployment that lurks that pub is overwhelmed by the soft sweet smell of freshly picked strawberries,

and she sits down next to me, the only stool that has someone sitting next to it, she’s clearly looking for conversation,

I turn my head right and look at all the empty stools and then to the left and I lean forward to look over her and to the other stools,

then look her in the eyes and I was sure I was going to say, “A little crowded here isn’t it? How about you move one over.

” But instead I stared at her, at her and the way her face was perfectly shaped, so gently resting on her smooth neck, perfect for my mouth,

the way her lips gaped in the center and how she arched her perfectly shaped eyebrows waiting for me to say something, I stared for a few more moments at her curly eyelashes,

her beautiful light green eyes and her soaking wet hair and finally blurted out, “You look like you could use a drink, Martini?”

“That bad?” she asked, “God no, I just have an eye for broken souls” I quickly replied thinking I offended here, She laughed, I eased.

“I would love to but I don’t think anyone here would like me drinking at the bar, perhaps I should leave.

”, she said, and to this day I regret not letting her leave, I regret ever turning my head, I regret stepping foot in that bar, in the city, shit on this god damned world.

“If any man has issue with the lady that is keeping me company sitting at the bar he can speak with me, I’m sure I can come to reason with him.

” What an idiot I am, she laughs, “alright then, Charlotte, and I prefer scotch.”

“Fuck” I think to myself and quickly reply, “Charles, it’s a pleasure meeting you Charlotte.”

“The pleasure is mine” she says while shaking my hand and that is followed by the question I hate most, “So where are you from? Charles.”

“From a land far away.”

“Does that land have a name?” She insists.

“It might but it wont mean anything to you, Id much rather know where you’re from.”

“No, No, I was first and if you wont answer that question I have another one for you, why did you leave said land.”

She insists.

“I was bored”

“Bored?”

“Yes”

“How come?”

“it’s a small place”

“So?”

“So I’ve fucked all the women worth fucking, Drank all the booze worth drinking and lived all the life worth living.”

“So you came here to do the same?”

“Yes”

“And after you’re done you’ll move on to a different place to do it all again?”

“Somewhat, after some time I lose interest in some things, ill fuck until my dick breaks ill drink until my liver fails and ill live until my heart breaks and frankly it broke a long time ago.”

“And how Is your liver?”

“Good.”

“Good cause we will be drinking a lot tonight, Charles.”

“Good.”

“And how is your cock?”

“Good.”

“Good cause we will be fucking a lot tonight, Charles.”

“I don’t even know your last name.”

“You’ll be screaming my first name honey.”

I never left Brooklyn, I planned on breaking my cock and ruining my liver across the states but she did it all in just 2 years, She fucked me so hard she ruined other women,

she made me drink so much, whiskey goes down as if its water, and she fixed my broken heart only to tear it out of my chest and run away with it.

Her last name was Mayfield, and she smelt like fucking strawberries.

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