After a plethora of technical difficulties, and losing the post that I wrote for this week…I decided to do a flashback post…the beginning of Harry’s descent into hell…
Harry felt lonely, and that was something that he never really felt. He understood why Sabrina had gone to London, and he was okay with it. But she went away a lot, and he was not one to keep her from doing what she wanted to do…but it did mean that he was alone in the couple they were in a lot.
He knew that he was allowed to do what he wanted to do. Sabrina told him everything that she did, and he had even been involved in a foursome with her, Carole and Gui.
He remembered Carole. He had been startled when she died as well. She had been stunning, there was something about her eyes that made you want to look at her. Her sister had the same thing, maybe that was why when Damaris watched him and Sabrina have sex he did not mind. Maybe he was hypnotized by them, and she looked so much like Carole.
She felt familiar.
When Harry went to the neighborhood bar that night, he was not expecting to find a familiar set of eyes. But there was Damaris, wearing a dress that meant that she wanted to be seen and she sat with her legs crossed in a come-hither fashion. She looked at him, a mildly sardonic smile on her face but he was pretty sure that it was just for show.
She got up and walked over to him. When she stood in front of him, Harry’s smile was heavily sardonic. Some of these people saw him here every night almost with Sabrina—what were they going to think of this?
“Do you have a light?” she asked and leaned toward him.
“You cannot smoke in a New York City bar,” he said to her, picking up a book of matches from the bar. “You have to go outside with it.”
“Are you going to be a gentleman and come with me?”
He followed her outside.
“It might rain,” she said, as he lit her cigarette.
“You caused a hell of shit storm in London, I would think a bit of rain would not bother you in the least.”
Damaris smiled.
“Of course it was my fault, right? A woman can tell when she is not wanted. When she is being used. But it is easy to be fooled when you think you are in love.”
Harry studied Damaris, her damp eyes still were hypnotic but sad at the same time.
He caressed her cheek.
“Do you want to tell me your side of the story?”
“I do not want to talk anymore.”
Was it more of a turn on to walk away from the window of the bar, have the strangers inside and the regulars wonder where he was going with the sexy stranger with the accent? Was that what made him follow her?
“I am staying up the street…” she said walking ahead of him, and he could not keep his eyes off of her body. She knew exactly what you do to keep you looking at her. He looked at the hotel up the street and took her hand. He and Sabrina at times had pondered going there, so they could role play.
The inside smelled like sandalwood, which mirrored Damaris’ perfume. When they walked into her room, she pulled her dress over her head.
“This is how I talk,” she said, slipping her fingers between her legs and smearing her wetness over her belly for him to see…
…her language.
More Masturbation Monday here:
image via sub-bee (https://atosubbee.com)
