By Lilith Bealove
“So, let me make sure that I have all of this right,” I try not to huff as I glance back down at the list I wrote for the writers at DMMP Magazine. “Joey wants a soy latte with an extra shot and cream. A venti iced skinny hazelnut macchiato, light ice, with no whip for Marcella. A caramel macchiato, venti, skim, extra shot, extra-hot, extra-whip for Darcy. And Telia wants a non-fat frappuccino with extra whipped cream and extra chocolate sauce.” I glance around at the writers once more, getting their final approval before I leave.
As I head out, Joey, my boss, calls out to me, “I will leave a list of people I want to interview on your desk. Be a doll and call them for me when you get back. Thanks, hun.” I smile at his request as I grit my teeth and leave the conference room. Once I leave the room, I bite back a snide remark over Joey calling me hun, again.
Being the desk jockey is not what I had in mind when DMMP Magazine brought me on to be a writing intern. When I moved from my hometown in Georgia to Los Angeles, I imagined this to be an incredible opportunity to expand my writing career at a world renowned magazine. The head writer at DMMP said that there was potential for me to become a full-time writer if I interned long enough, and from the emails we exchanged before I moved, I thought there would be a ton of hands-on writing experience. However, as I have learned from my limited time here, I was clearly hired just to bring the four main writers' coffee and take their phone calls, none of which was detailed in the job description. To make ends meet, I work as a freelance writer for lower-level blogging clients and am only able to afford an apartment barely large enough to fit both me and my laptop. I make a mental note to finish my articles for one of my bloggers when I have time at the office today. Thankfully, my limited responsibilities allow me to write for other establishments during my downtime.
I try to put on a smile before I enter Starbucks, but it quickly falls from my lips as I assess the line before me. This “simple” coffee run is going to take forever. Taking my mind off of my dilemma, I take out my phone and open social media. Growing up in a small southern town, my Facebook is currently full of engagement announcements, wedding pictures, and baby talk. I close Facebook and open Twitter, as I take a step forward in line. At least the line is moving at a decent pace, I guess no one else is here with four over-the-top drink orders for their bosses. Just as the line moves again, my phone loudly pings with a notification from one of my dating apps: You have a new match.
Opening the notification takes me straight to a message from “Taylor.” He’s 24, three miles away, and his bio is simple: “I promise I’m much cuter when my face is between your thighs.”
It’s clear that he’s just on here to find a hookup, and lucky for him, that’s just what I’m in the mood for.
I grab the drinks and head back to the office when my phone goes off in my purse with a message from Taylor:
Hey girl. What’s up?
Hey yourself. Heading back into work, what about you?
Just hanging out. It’s my off day.
I would kill to have an off day during the week
Sounds like you could use it. What about a drink instead?
I smile, it’s been too long since I have been out, and after today, I’m going to need it.
I type back: Sure – I’ve heard of this great place just on the outskirts of LA called The Tipsy Mermaid.
Cool. I’ll meet you there tonight. 6:30?
Sounds like a plan.
I’m smiling as I enter the office to hand out the drinks. I really haven’t had any fun since I’ve moved to California, but tonight could change that. I quickly finish up the projects I’d been putting off and find a note on my desk for the list of potential interviews that I need to call for Joey. I take a deep breath, close my eyes quickly, and then begin the calls. I really hate this internship.
After I finish, I spend my last couple of free hours working on my freelance side project, but my mind keeps wandering to Taylor. My fingers race across the keyboard, and before I realize it, I’m free to leave. I pack up my laptop and head out, giving a nod to Telia as I pass by her office.
I only have time to take my hair down and apply a fresh coat of lip gloss in the cab before I’m dropped off in front of the bar. Taylor knows I’m coming straight from work, and besides — I’m not trying to impress him with my look. I’m trying to get laid.
I scan the room and find him sitting at the bar with a short glass filled with a dark amber liquid that he brings to his lips as I approach him. He doesn’t see me walking in, and I slide onto the barstool beside him, casting a coy smile when he finally does notice me.
“Hey, Linda?” He sounds unsure, his eyes scanning my face.
“That would be me.” I turn my attention to the bartender and order a vodka martini with extra olives.
“You new to L.A?” Taylor asks after I get my drink.
I take a sip, set my drink down, and turn in my barstool so that my legs brush against his. “How could you tell?” I place a hand on his arm as I ask the question.
He replies with a short chuckle, “Your accent. Where are you from?”
“Ah, yes. Should have known that would give me away. I just moved here from Georgia for work.”
“What do you do for work?” Taylor asks, his fingers tracing the lip of his glass.
“I’m an intern at DMMP. I’m working my way up to junior writer, but for now I just get the coffee and make the calls,” I can feel the tension in my voice as I talk about work, so I change the topic. “Are you from here?”
“Nah, I used to live in Alpine, but I prefer bigger cities and being closer to the ocean.” I watch his expressions as he talks about where he grew up and my eyes land on his lips every few words. I can’t help but watch them move as he talks. They are so full I imagine my tongue tracing the outline of them. It’s a minute before I realize he has stopped talking. My eyes dart up to meet his and he smiles with amusement.
Taylor slowly leans forward to kiss me and I smile and meet his lips. He gently takes my bottom lip between his teeth, pulling my face towards his. He molds his lips to mine in a closed mouth kiss as one of his hands rests on my knee. My chest expands and my stomach rustles and flutters a bit. I knew what I wanted when I walked in here, but I didn’t expect my body to react this way. As his lips brush against mine, again and again, a warmth settles in my lower abdomen and a dampness grows between my thighs.
When our kiss ends, he rests his forehead on mine, a smile that matches mine on his lips.
Determined and confident, I pay the bartender and take Taylor’s hand to lead him toward the door. During my short stay in L.A., I had already heard that the alleyway behind The Tipsy Mermaid had a reputation as a popular public spot to hook up.
“What are we doing?” Taylor asks as we turn down the alley.
“Just going out back,” I say. I can tell he understands because he quickly hops off the barstool and follows me outside. The narrow alleyway is surprisingly quiet, it’s odd angle providing just enough privacy from the busy main street.
“I really want to fuck you right now,” I grin at him over my shoulder.
He immediately grins back, “Funny, I was thinking the same thing.”
He starts to say something else, but I move closer to his lips, waiting for him to meet me halfway. He stops talking and his lips crash against mine. They’re soft and eager. I dart my tongue out, flicking it against his bottom lip, hoping he’ll get the hint.
He does, he opens his mouth and his tongue twines with mine. He tastes like Amaretto and smells like cinnamon. I inhale every bit of him and his hands go up my back and get tangled in my hair. I push my hands against his chest, guiding him to the closest wall. He grunts against my lips as his back gently rests against the brick.
I move my hands to his hair and his arms wrap around my waist. He starts pecking my lips, and I slowly tilt my head up leading him down to my collar bone. He takes his time getting there, kissing my chin, my jaw bone, and down my neck. As he goes, his tongue and teeth graze against my skin. A light moan slips through my lips.
With one hand, I guide his fingers from my back to the buttons on my blouse. He catches on and unbuttons the top first few. He continues his path of teasing down between my breasts, his hand now on one of my tits pushing it out of my bra so he can swirl his tongue around my nipple. I feel a damp spot growing in my underwear and my hips push into his.
His other hand reaches under the hem of my pencil skirt, grips my ass, and pulls me tighter against his body. “God, I want you right now,” he growls against my skin.
“Not quite yet,” I half giggle, half sigh in response. “I really do want to see just how much cuter your face looks between my thighs.”
“Here?” He asks, and I bite my nip as I nod. He gives me a smirk and bites the soft flesh of my cleavage before spinning us both around so that my back is against the wall and dropping to a knee in front of me. He pushes my pencil skirt up to my hips, pulls my underwear down to my ankles, and looks up at me expectantly.
“Yes,” I breathe, as I twine my hands in his hair and he brings his lips toward me.
Taylor kisses both of my hip bones and slowly makes his way down the “V” where my legs meet. His tongue slips between my labia to tease my clit before his hands find their way to my inner thighs, pushing them apart so he can better reach inside. My eyes roll back and my fingers rake through his hair. He uses his thumb to massage my clit before making swirls with his tongue. When he does this, my head bounces on the wall as I bite back a loud moan.
As my body reacts to every touch, I throw a leg over his shoulder. Taylor wraps one arm around my now suspended leg and squeezes my ass, pulling me closer to his face. Flattening his tongue, he licks my entire length and stops to suck on my clitoris until my hips are bucking.
“I want you inside me,” I demand, coming back down from the edge of the orgasm he had pushed me so close to.
“Is that so?” Taylor asks, kissing the soft skin around my groin.
“Yes,” I sigh, fumbling for my purse. I find the condom and the small bottle of lubricant.
“What’s the lube for?” His eyebrows are arched and intrigued.
“It feels better with lube,” I smile at him as I take out the condom and put a dab in the tip before handing it over to him.
“If you say so…” he takes his penis out and rolls the condom down over it while I pour some lube out onto my fingers.
“I want you to stroke it for me,” I grinned as I slip my lubed up fingers inside my pussy.
Taylor starts to stroke his cock, his eyelids heavy as he watches me tweak my nipple while my fingers curl into my g-spot. I moan, rolling my nipple between my thumb and finger as I watch him run his hand up and down the shaft of his cock, careful not to touch the head.
I use the fingers on my breast to motion him to me. He then positions his hips between mine, and I wrap a leg around his waist. I take the fingers out of my pussy and guide the head of his cock over my clit, the lube creating a slippery sensation as it glides back and forth. We both groan as our bodies touch then his lips are on mine again. His tongue darts out and pries my mouth open, finding my tongue and teasing it to life.
I continue to rub him against me, teasing the head of his cock by pushing it just inside and pulling him back out again. Once I am on the precipice of coming, my moans louder than they should be in a public area, I rock my hips against his and push his entire length into my body. Our lips break and he groans, a hand flies up to the wall behind me to steady him. I continue to rock my hips, rolling them to guide his cock to my g-spot.
Taylor’s eyes are hooded when he meets my gaze, and I nip at his lower lip as he roughly grabs my hips, pushing deeper into me with growing rhythm.
“Oh my fucking god,” I all but scream into the empty alleyway, “right there, yes, fuck, yes. Don’t stop.”
Talyor bites just below my collar bone, trying to keep the momentum I’m requesting until I feel his entire body tense as his thrusts become more erratic. My body tenses around his as my nails dig into his back. Right then my legs start to tingle and shake from the building orgasm.
I clench around his cock as I moan for him not to stop. A wave of pleasure takes over and I give into the ticklish heat spreading out from my thighs. The pleasure radiates from my g-spot and contracts as waves course through my body. He flexes inside of me a couple of times, the tip of his cock hitting my g-spot and causing a shiver to run up my back. All of the tension I carried with me these past few days floats away as I orgasm with Taylor.
When he pulls out, I lean against the wall, a lazy smile playing on my lips.
“You were right,” he huffs out, clearly worn out, “it was better with lube.”
“I told you,” I retort happily as I stuff my panties that wound up on the ground into my purse and pull my skirt back down over my legs. Taylor throws out the condom as I button up my blouse, and I wait for him to finish zipping up before I suggest, “do you wanna go back in and grab another drink?”