The Whore On The Third Floor – Part 2

The Whore on the third floor, 6lack free

Why?

Why, what?

Why, the name? The whore name.

Is that really what you’d rather be doing? Talking about names? I’m lying on top of my bed. He is sitting on top of my study table. He’d knocked on my door. I’d let him in. Lingering looks. Stupid smiles. Flirtations. Chemistry. Light touches. All that had led us into my bedroom.

I am threatening to take off my nightgown.

I ask again. Is that what you’d rather be doing? Both my hands are at the brink of pulling off my gown on both ends. I’m threatening to take off my decency. Would you rather be talking about the whore on the third floor or– I’m a few seconds away from nudity. You’re going to make me wait, aren’t you?

Wait for what? His voice is hoarse. It has dropped a decibel or two.

What do you think?

I think I can chew and talk at the same time.

He takes the bait. Approaches the bed. His frame comes to a standstill at the edge of the bed. He is towering over me. I’m looking straight into his eyes. Still waiting.

And then there is movement. Halleluyia.

It’s his hand. It’s pulling out his shirt from the neat tuck that secured it under his trousers.

Slow. Deliberate. Making me wait.

I make good my threat and split my nightgown open. What do you know? My decency just left. There’s nothing underneath my gown but my skin. I can’t hold in the laughter when he looks at me in shock. Did you think they call me a whore for nothing? Told you I’d earned the name, didn’t I? I mean.

His fingers are moving. Loosening his tie. Unbuttoning his shirt. Pulling his trousers down. Heaping his boxers on the floor. I wait.

He’s running his eyes all over me. I wear my skin pretty comfortably.

Still want to talk about names?

He smiles. An obedient set of brilliant teeth peek out. Arranged and neatly stacked next to each other. His skin feels warm against mine. A bunch of warm-blooded mammals is what we are. When I have his head between my hands, I fill my mouth with his tongue. He returns the favor.

You got me. No names for now. But you’ll be saying my name promptly. Now he’s whispering. I can feel his voice vibrate from his chest into mine.

You think? I too only manage a whisper.

I know. Comes the vibration again.

And can I tell you something? It feels like he has six hands and three tongues. And all of them have found a part of my body they want to attach to.

Do you have to talk? I’m kneeling on the bed. Or I’m standing. Or I”m lying flat on the carpet. Facing up now. And facing down then. And facing him and facing away from him. And swallowing air. And trying to stop my heart from jumping out of my mouth.

I talk and I chew. His hands are lifting me. Moving me. Placing me. His chest is holding my weight. Cushioning me.

Please chew more and talk less. Taking the cue, he bites my earlobe and my neck and my nipples.

I’m gasping. And there it is. I say his name.

Philip.

His name is Philip.

Philip moans. I give my neighbors the whorish scream.

I feel good.

Something is wrong with me.

I feel beautiful.

To be continued.

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