Sex

Forbidden Fruit

I took Dennis because he was forbidden.

I was the daytime bartender and Dennis was the night manager. Forbidden one. He was dating someone, Stephanie or something. Forbidden two. I had just broken up with J.R. whose only request was “don’t date Dennis.” Forbidden three. He was a lady fucking, tequila shooting, drug doing bad boy. Forbidden four.

Dennis would be mine.

I started to stick around the bar after my shift, just for one drink. It didn’t take long. Getting his attention wasn’t hard. Once I had it secured, I went up to the bar on a Friday night. A Friday I knew his girlfriend was out-of-town.

I didn’t generally go at night. The bands were good enough, but many of the customers were the same and I liked to keep them wanting more. It was one thing if a current fuck came up while I was working. The jealousy and “I saw how you were looking at him” accusations were exhausting and spelled disaster. It was another thing entirely to risk losing a revenue stream to the same claim. Patrons-turned-fuck-buddy were the worst of the possessive type.

That Friday I knew I had Dennis in my clutches. Every drink I drank was free, and employees paid just like regular customers. I included myself in the after-shift going-out group—first to the city with a later last call, then across the river where the strip clubs were open all night. When Dennis invited me to a room, I went. Why not go with an un-reputable man hopped-up on drugs and alcohol to a cheap motel on the outskirts of town after sitting in a strip club all night? Good decisions weren’t my forte.

As we fucked he told me he wouldn’t get off because of the coke, or whatever drug he had taken that night. I don’t remember. I do remember I wasn’t included in any of the party favors. I do remember I rode his cock until it was raw and pleasured myself as if I was the only one in the room. Which, effectively, I was.

It was our first, and should have been our last. Eventually it was a terrible relationship that lasted longer than it should have, though I had a lot of freedom — he was busy trying not to get caught cheating. As if I didn’t know he was a cheater.

He cheated on Stephanie with me. He cheated on Mary with Stephanie. He cheated on Roxanne with Mary. I think I was the only one who wasn’t surprised when it was my turn to catch him in the act. It was a Saturday night. It was Holly on the pool table. I slipped out as quietly as I slipped in and let him have his secret. A month later, Holly and I fucked on the same table. We did it on Dennis’s night off, knowing he’d come in to put the deposit in the safe. He did not leave quietly.

Featured Image: Blue Bar by eedgejr (CC0 1.0)

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15 thoughts on “Forbidden Fruit

  1. What I like about your writing quite often is that effectively it is two stories woven within the one. Part of it is bordering on erotic-“rode his cock until it was raw’, fucking on the pool table, etc while the other part is almost a cautionary tale. But then again it isn’t that either because there is no ‘moral’ to the story. Well done weaving these threads together.

    Liked by 1 person

    • There could be a moral…be careful what you wish for, or just because you want it doesn’t mean you need it. Or something. Thanks for reading and commenting Robert. I appreciate that you come over for my posts.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. True, I hadn’t thought about either of those scenarios but it could be either of those for sure. It is my pleasure to read your posts. Invariably they always seem to be waiting for me via email when I wake up in the morning so it’s always a nice treat to start my morning off with. And I thank you for all the likes and comments you leave for me.

    Liked by 1 person

    • When I’m on top of things, I schedule the posts to go up at 6am. When I’m not, I just publish as soon as I’m reasonably satisfied with the story. 🙂

      Like

    • Usually when I write for here, I write three or four at a time, and then schedule them spaced out. It give me the chance to write when I have that burst of energy and time to go back and review/revise if I have an inspiration a day or so later. Maybe that’s weird, I don’t know. I like to let things rest so I can go back and make sure it’s what I want before it’s seen by readers.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. I don’t think that is weird. I’ve tried to be disciplined and write every day sometimes, or write multiple blogs, or at least work on them in stages, but I eventually found I just like to write one at a time. It also helps me keep focused on the visual element and keeps me keyed into the song I am writing about. To get to the depths of those songs I sometimes listen to them a few times a day to feel every bit of nuance-every instrument, every line to the lyrics, whatever the case may be. Most of the time I write about songs that are in regular rotation on my Ipod or at home, but listening to them for writing purposes they often take on a new meaning to me.

    Liked by 1 person

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