Desperate Times

The halls of the Marlborough Building are empty as I walk to my door at 11:33 PM, hoping Laura will forgive me for being so late. I texted her to let her know, but her solo letter “K” response has me nervous. Before, it wouldn’t have, but I’m worried I’m finally trying her patience. My job as an independent building inspector sometimes means traveling far and working odd hours. But for the past three years, Laura’s been the best childcare a single, working father could ask for.

My daughter, Maddy, has special health concerns. Since far too many people prefer to pretend the pandemic is over, I can’t trust her wellbeing to just anyone. Laura lived a few doors down from us and had watched Maddy off-and-on for years before the pandemic started. When her bartending job first disappeared and then was no longer safe, it just made sense to hire her on a more consistent basis. Since she was so upfront about her own concerns with COVID, it was nice to know she wouldn’t expose my daughter to pathogens. Laura had even said she was fine with late nights.

Lately, she’s been distant, almost sullen. We used to chat when I got home, but she’s more tight-lipped now.

I unlock the door and open it to find the apartment dark. From the faint street lights filtering through the windows, I can see the stack of books on the kitchen table and Laura’s laptop. The screensaver’s running—text that reads “Why aren’t you studying?” bounces from one side of the screen to the other.

She’s started taking online classes for coding, hoping she could land a more steady work-from-home job. I wish her all the best, but I don’t know how I’ll manage without her.

Looking to the couch, I see her curled up there, her tank top doing an admirable job of keeping her from spilling out. I pull my eyes away from the long line of her cleavage, but it stirs up thoughts and feelings I’ve been trying my best to bury.

When I hired Laura, I was still dealing with the grief from the loss of my wife, who died the year before. My mental health had always been a bit of a mess, but in the immediate aftermath, the depression was too deep for me to think about another woman. But, as the years passed, my grief grew less acute. Now, things have shifted.

Ever since the lockdown, Laura’s the only adult I’ve regularly interacted with, so it’s easy to see how she became the center of my sexual imagination.

Not that she isn’t pretty in her own right. Even before everything, it was hard to deny she’s stunning, but my appreciation of her gorgeous curves has grown beyond pure aesthetics.

Unfortunately, the fact I’m paying her to watch my kid makes things awkward, and I don’t want to fuck this up. So, I’ve kept that locked away. At least most of the time. There were those brief moments of solitude where I sought release.

I lay my hand on her shoulder and shake her gently, ignoring the way the skin-to-skin contact causes my heart rate to spike.

“Laura,” I whisper.

She groans before her eyes flutter open.

“Hey, David,” she says, pushing herself to sitting. I lock my eyes on hers to stop the urge to watch how her breasts move.

“I’m sorry I’m so late. It was a long day in cramped crawl spaces.”

It’s too dark for me to discern her finer features, so I can’t gauge from her face the sincerity of her “It’s totally fine.” Then she says, “If you want to take a shower, I’ll stay on the off-chance Maddy wakes up.”

I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to push my luck with her.

“I couldn’t ask you to stay later than you already have. And she sleeps like the dead … most of the time.”

“It’s fine. You smell like stale dust. Go shower.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say with a soft laugh. “I’ll be quick.”

“Take your time. It’s not like I have a long walk home.”

I go to my room and grab a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt from my bureau. When I step out into the hall again, I see Laura flop back onto the couch with a sigh.

After turning on the shower, I peel off my clothes and toss them into the hamper while the water warms up. Standing in front of the mirror, I run a hand over my 5 o’clock shadow. Though it’s more of an 11:45 PM shadow by now.

I could shave.

I decide against it. That can wait for tomorrow. I just need to clean up so I can go to sleep.

Stepping under the shower spray, I groan as the hot water washes away the grime and some of the stress of the day.

Because I’m a single father of a young child, the shower is the only place I have alone time. My body has an almost pavlovian response and my cock goes hard as a rock.

I try my best to ignore it, hoping it will go away on its own. But by the time I’ve scrubbed myself clean, my hard-on is as persistent as ever. Returning to Laura sporting wood might send the wrong message.

She said to take my time.

Setting aside any conflicting feelings, I picture what Laura would look like laying under me. I imagine her thick thighs wrapped around my waist as I bury every inch of my cock inside her.

With a loose grip on my shaft, I stroke myself to the thought. I’ve been so wound up lately, it doesn’t take long before I can feel my orgasm approaching. With a muffled grunt, I leverage my hard-on down, aiming for the drain, though in my mind’s eye, I’m coating her large breasts with my cum. After making sure that I’ve washed away all evidence of my shame, I turn off the water and grab a towel.

When I’m all dried and dressed, I head down the hall and peek into the living room. Laura’s face is lit only by the rectangle of light from her phone.

“Hey,” I whisper and she startles. “Sorry.”

She sits up, turning off her phone. “It’s okay. I’m just surprised by how quietly you can move sometimes.”

“Thanks for letting me shower. I’m realizing now I needed it more than I thought.” I say into the utter darkness—my night vision still shot from my time in the bathroom.

“You’re welcome,” she says.

Neither of us moves.

“Is everything okay?” I ask, leaning against the wall.

She lets out a shuddering breath and sounds almost on the verge of tears.

“Not really.”

I take a step into the room, finally able to make out the vague shapes.

“Do you … want to talk about it? I can’t promise a solution, but sometimes it’s good to let it out.”

“That’d be … that’d be nice,” she says.

I put my hand out in front of me, reaching out for the back of the couch. Guiding myself to sit down at the other end from her, I give her plenty of room. Then I wait in silence for Laura to speak. I’ve never had a good sense of time, so I can’t tell how long I wait.

Eventually, I can’t stand the silence anymore, especially as thoughts creep in about her telling me she’s noticed me staring or something. I’ve tried not to, but maybe my eyes wandered a little too freely during my more distracted moments.

“So what’s up?” I ask.

“I don’t know if I can put an easy label on it. Stress maybe. I’ve got course load stuff, obviously. But there’s also…” She makes a slightly strangled sound. “Just everything right now. Have you seen the world lately? Every day, it’s a fresh disaster. Not to mention nobody giving a single, solitary fuck that we are still in a pandemic.” She pauses. “Nobody but you, of course. It’s so frustrating to have it downplayed. Especially when people brush it off, saying only at risk people should worry about getting COVID, somehow missing the signal that sends to those of us who are at risk. Or at least those of us who know they’re at risk, since people refuse to understand that having had COVID puts you at risk.”

My eyes have adjusted enough that I can see her rake the fingers of both hands through her hair, a gesture I’ve seen her do when she’s stressed.

“It sucks hearing people tell me they’re okay with me dying as long as they get to keep going about their lives as if everything is normal. That might not be what they mean, but it’s what they’re saying. And I know you get it. You’ve gone through a lot of trouble making sure you’re not bringing it home.”

When it became apparent that the pandemic was here to stay, but bills still had to get paid, I restructured how I handled my business to reduce my contact with people. I also insisted that anyone I had to meet in person wore a mask. I lost some clients because of it, but I wouldn’t fuck around with my daughter’s or Laura’s health.

Masking wasn’t that much of an inconvenience to begin with. As a home inspector, I spend hours looking for things like toxic mold, so wearing a mask was something I was already doing regularly. Making it part of my public life wasn’t a huge stretch.

I make an affirmative grunt, letting Laura continue.

“And it’s been so isolating. People aren’t even masking at the doctor’s office anymore. I can’t go anywhere since nobody cares enough to protect their own health, let alone mine. And I’m … feeling lonely … I guess.”

She lets out a long sigh that mirrors my exhaustion and frustration with the whole situation, and then she falls silent.

“How long have you been holding that in?” I ask.

She makes a sound that straddles the line between a sigh and a scoff.

“It’s been building for a while.”

“Is that why you’ve seemed … off lately?”

“Have I?” she asks.

“A little. I thought you were getting tired of us. Tired of me and my schedule or something. Or I did something to upset you.”

“Oh, god, no. I love working with you. Maddy’s great. It’s just I’m an extrovert by nature and the isolation is getting me down, I guess. I’m sorry if I made you think I was mad at you.”

“No. It’s alright. I understand it’s a lot. If you need someone to vent to, I’m here, okay?”

“Aww. Thanks.”

“Any time. I mean it. We’re in this together.”

“Can I … would you … I haven’t been … Can I ask you a favor?”

The aborted sentences throw me off, so there’s more hesitation than I’d like before I say, “Sure.”

She takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly, as if she’s steeling herself for something big and it makes me nervous.

Finally, she asks, “Can you hold me?”

“Hold you?” Uncertainty tinges my tone because my mind wars with the possible meanings of that request.

The couch shifts as she stands.

“I’m sorry. Just forget I said anything. I should go.”

I’m on my feet, hands outstretched towards her, but keeping my distance. I don’t want her to feel trapped, but I’m also keenly interested in what she meant.

“Wait a second. I wasn’t saying no.”

For a moment, I’m not sure if she’ll flee around the other side of the couch. Instead, she sits and says, “I’m touched-starved. It’s been over three years since I’ve been held, but I don’t want this to get awkward. I shouldn’t have said anything. I don’t want you to think—”

“It’s okay. I promise. Tell me what you need.” I leave it open-ended for her, while also managing my own expectations—my own baser desires.

“Really?” Her voice cracks and I want to hug her and tell her everything will be alright, even though I know that’s a lie.

“You’ve done so much for me and what’s a little cuddle between friends? If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been feeling the isolation, too,” I add. “So, this isn’t … one-sided or anything.”

“Could you spoon me?”

The couch isn’t big enough for that. I look down the hall towards my room. Even in the dark, she seems to know where I’m looking.

“If that’s too much—” she starts.

“No. It’s good,” I say, standing before I reach out my hand to her. “Are you wanting to be the big spoon or the little spoon?” I ask.

“Little spoon, please,” Laura says in a soft voice as she takes my hand and lets me lead her to the bedroom.

When we get to my room, I release her hand and walk to the bed. After folding down the covers, I slip under the sheets. Then I lay on my side, spreading my arms out and waving her towards me.

She hesitates a moment, standing in the doorway. I’d been aiming for welcoming, but I worry I might have missed the mark and hit overeager. Before I can tip into panic, she asks, “Should I close the door?”

For an innocent cuddle?

“Just in case,” I say. No sense in raising questions or expectations if we’re caught together.

With a soft click, the door latches. Then she bounds into bed and backs up into me.

“Arms around you?” I ask when she settles against my chest.

“Yes, please.”

The arm under her wraps across her collarbone, and I rest the other over her midriff. I’m trying to keep this as platonic and chaste as possible, even though I can’t chase away thoughts of more.

After a contented hum, she says, “Thank you. So much. I didn’t know when I’d ever get to do this again and it was doing a number on my mental health.”

“Whatever you need.” The words pass my lips without thought.

She sighs. “Jesus, this is an amazing mattress.”

“With the physical demands of my job, I figure I deserved a decent bed. Thinking you might use it now?”

I’d repeatedly said she could sleep in my bed on the late nights because it’s more comfortable than the couch, but she never took me up on it.

She doesn’t reply and I just hold her, listening to her breathing go steady.

I can’t let her fall asleep, can I? Would that be weird?

I don’t want to break this contact, something I’ve desperately needed for a while, but I also don’t want to drift off and wake up in a compromising position with her. Or, more accurately, I do, but not if that’s not what she wants.

I lean into her and whisper, “Laura, are you still with me?”

She nods her head slowly. “Yeah. I’m not falling asleep, just relaxed.”

As I pull back, she shifts closer, and my stubble drags across her jaw and neck, eliciting a shiver and a gasp from her. Her shuddering causes her ass to grind into my crotch. My cock, which had been behaving itself, stirs.

I adjust my hips back, making a little space between us as I say, “Sorry.”

“No. It—” She lets out a breath. “It felt good, actually.”

She presses back into me and I mentally check off what supplies in my truck I need to restock as her luscious ass grinds into my rapidly hardening cock.

“Can you...” She trails off.

From where our bodies connect, I can feel tension creeping into her frame.

“Can I what?”

“Can you do it again?” she asks, before covering her face with her hands.

I can’t tell if the small voice in the back of my mind telling me this can’t end well is just my usual anxiety, or if this is actually a bad plan. But this break from isolation is too good to pass up.

“Like this?” I ask, nuzzling into her neck, dragging my stubble across her soft skin.

Her lightly moaned “Yes” travels down my spine until it reaches my cock, which is fully hard now.

I pull my hips back.

“You don’t have to worry … about that?” Her tone colors it like a question.

“Laura…” I don’t know what I was planning to follow that up with.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t … but I just … I don’t want to stop. I need…” She trails off.

“Tell me what you need,” I say.

“Are you going to make me spell it out?”

Alarms ring out in my head about the thousand ways this could go horribly wrong.

I choose my words carefully.

“I want to give you what you need, but there are consequences to consider, especially if I’m not sure what you need.”

“It’s been a long, lonely stretch of years since the pandemic started, but … I don’t want to jeopardize things. … I feel like I’m going to lose my shit if I don’t … if someone doesn’t…” Laura covers her face with her hands again. “I need to get fucked. You could just take me. Do—” Her breath catches. “—whatever you want.”

Only a few layers of fabric separate me from plunging into her and sating our mutual desires. The urge to just take her runs strong, but I hold back, allowing myself only the barest hint of what I want by thrusting my hips forward into her.

“I want to know you’re sure. And why—” I hesitate, hoping I’m not fucking this up by digging too deep. “Why me?”

She grinds herself back on me.

“You’re one of the few people I know still taking safety seriously, and of those people … the only one I’m … attracted to.”

“That desperate, huh?” The sarcasm is automatic and I hate how easily it slips out as soon as the words escape my lips.

“Oh, god. No. That’s not what I meant. Even before…” Her words trail off into a series of half syllables.

I pull her into me.

“Before what?” I urge her on, whispering the words against her neck, letting my stubble rasp against her.

“This isn’t … a new thought. There’s a reason I’ve been hesitant to take you up on the offer of using your bed.”

“That was…” My words die as the implications sink in. That was something I offered when I first hired her, back when I was still a very depressed sad-sack. I push that thought aside. “So, what? You didn’t think you could handle the temptation?” I ask as I slowly bring my hand up to palm her breast.

Her breath catches and I stop.

“No. Please keep going. And yes. I knew I’d give in. It smells like you.”

“Do you have condoms?” I ask. “I got a vasectomy years ago. Before then I was monogamous, so I don’t—”

“You don’t have anything? Anything catching, I mean?”

“No.”

“Fucking fill me,” she moans.

I pull my arm out from under her and roll her on to her back. We work together to peel her jeans off, and I notice how she shucks her underwear off as well. Then I plant myself between her knees. She reaches into my sweats, her hand wrapping around my cock. I rest a hand on her wrist, stopping her.

“Wait,” I say, staring down at her. In the dim light, I can see her bite her lower lip as though it’s a struggle for her.

If she only knew how much I’m holding back. Her top is up over her stomach, bunched up under her breasts, and I want nothing more than to strip her bare and pull her nipple into my mouth.

“I want you to get something out of this.”

“I like … giving up control and making someone feel goood … being used, but only with someone I know won’t … with someone I trust.” Something in my chest twists at that, but before I have time to sus it out, she continues. “It’s hard to explain. But if you’re concerned about me getting off, taking what you want is probably the fastest way to do that.”

I trail my hand down her stomach and continue until I can feel how wet she is.

“And if I want to make you cum over and over again?”

“Oh, fuck. Yes, please,” she breathes, returning to stroking me.

I part her lower lips, drawing a finger up to tease around her clit.

“And if I want to edge you mercilessly, and tell you that you can’t cum?”

She whimpers and writhes as my fingers tease her, but says nothing.

“Are you going to answer me?” I let a little harshness invade my tone, testing a theory.

She shudders and I swear I can feel the surge of wet heat under my fingertips, confirming what kind of role she’d like me to take.

“If that’s what you want,” she replies.

Even with the desperation in her voice, I believe her.

“Don’t worry,” I say, slipping my fingers inside her as I thumb her clit. “I’m not planning on holding back.”

Her hand leaves my cock to clamp over her mouth as she muffles a cry while her back arches off the bed.

I give her a second to come down before I shuffle down the mattress until I’m eye level with her mons, marveling at her opened before me.

She must take my pause for hesitation or something because her knees start to draw together as she says, “If I’d know I’d be doing this, I’d’ve trimmed or something.”

I rest my head against her inner thigh, gently stopping her efforts to hide herself.

“There’s absolutely nothing wrong. I was enjoying the view.” I run my stubbled cheek against her skin. “Am I too stubbly to eat you out?”

She draws in a shuddering breath and replies, “I said you can take what you want. You don’t have to go down on me.”

“Who said anything about ‘have to’? I want to.”

“Not too stubbly,” she says quickly.

My tongue finds her clit as I push my fingers into her again and curl them forward. I look over the soft mound of her stomach as she grabs the pillow I’d been laying on and muffles her cries of pleasure.

It’s been so long since I’ve tasted a woman and I enjoy taking my time. Wrapping my arms around her thighs, I hold on to her so I can ride the wave as she bucks when her orgasm hits her.

She pulls the pillow away from her face and pants out, “Jesus. Christ.”

I kiss my way up her stomach, pushing her top up as I go, struggling a little to get the built-in bra to release her breasts. She arches her back enough for me to move it out of the way so I can pull her hard nipple into my mouth. Her hands lace into my hair as she moans softly. After switching sides for the sake of fairness, I pull my sweats down and free my now-aching cock. Pressing my shaft against her slick heat causes her to squirm under me.

Even though everything in me and every signal from her urges me onward, I ask, “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes. God, yes.”

I guide myself into her, pushing forward slowly, basking in the sensation as she envelops me inch by inch. What starts as a contented sigh turns into a frustrated groan as Laura’s heels dig into my ass, encouraging me to go faster. I stop, pulling back slightly, before I lean forward and whisper, “For someone who wanted to be used, you’re getting rather insistent.”

She goes rigid for a second.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. If you want it fast and hard, wait a little longer.”

I nip the skin of her neck, just below her ear, and she jolts, causing her pussy to spasm around me.

“You like that, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” is all she seems able to manage as I kiss and bite her neck while continuing to enjoy the sensation of her clamping down on me as I sink deeper into her. When we’re pressed together as far as I can go, I push up onto my hands so I can watch her face as I let go of my self control.

No more holding back now. She said she wanted to be used, and she’s so wet and ready I have no reason not to oblige her. I watch her strained expression as she struggles to keep her moans quiet. The hand not covering her mouth palms her breast, for titillation or to limit the amount of bounce from thrusts, I’m not sure.

I lean forward again, my lips brushing her ear as I say, “I want you to know that if I weren’t worried about the noise, I’d be much more vocal in appreciating how good you feel wrapped around my cock.”

This elicits another shudder.

“That’s a good girl. Cum for me.”

And like a good girl, she does.

If not for my release in the shower, I’d have exploded already. As is, I can already feel my orgasm building each time I go to the hilt.

“Fuck. You feel so good. I almost don’t want this to end.”

“This. Doesn’t. Have. To. Be. A. One. Time. Thing,” she says between ragged breaths.

With a final thrust, I collapse forward as everything pours out of me and into her. She wraps her arms and legs around me, pulling me closer still.

In my post-orgasmic daze, I almost don’t hear her muttering, “Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“Fuck. I knew I needed that, but I … fuck … hadn’t realized how badly until now.”

“Happy to help.” I push up on my elbows so I can look her in the eye. “Any regrets?”

“No. You?”

I can’t help but laugh.

“None.” I pause. “Not a one-time thing?”

“I wouldn’t say no to doing that again. Repeatedly.” She bites her lips, her eyes flitting to the side, as though she can’t make eye contact with me anymore.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Nothing. Just … next time … if I were to go to sleep in your bed … you wouldn’t have to wake me up first.”

Her face, already flushed, turns an even deeper shade of red.

My brows draw together as I consider her words.

“So what am I supposed to do? Strip you, shove your panties to the side, and slide in?”

“I’m most comfortable sleeping without bottoms at all.”

“Well, I’d want you to be comfortable. In that case, I’ll make you a deal. If you go to sleep thinking you want me to … just take you, then leave your pants and underwear visible at the end of the bed. That’ll be our little signal. But you have to promise me, if you wake up and decide that isn’t what you want, you’ll tell me and I’ll stop.”

“Deal.”

She leans up and kisses me. My cock twitches, trying and failing to come back to life.

We break apart and she says, “I should probably get going or I might be tempted to spend the night.”

“Yeah. Not that it’d be the worst thing, but—” I look toward my bedroom door. “—it’s complicated.”

She cups my cheek.

“I understand. It’s okay. I’ll go clean up and come back for the rest of my clothes,” she says, as I roll off her. She pulls her tank top back in place as she sit up.

Then she slides off the bed, and I watch her ass as she opens the door and peeks out into the hall before disappearing.

I get up and hunt for her pants. We tossed them with enough force for them to end up under my desk. Her underwear hangs from my office chair. I collect them and set them on the foot of the bed before laying down and staring at the ceiling, trying not to overthink this.

Under more normal circumstances, I would ask her out for a cup of coffee or something before getting in bed with her. Unfortunately, that’s not really an option.

When Laura walks back in a moment later, I sit up and watch as she slips her underwear on. Neither of us speaks as she dresses, and I’m trying to just enjoy the way she moves without interpreting the silence.

She wiggles into her jeans, hopping slightly to pull them up the last few inches. Then she turns back to me and bends down, pressing her soft lips into mine.

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Is it bad if I’m hoping you have another late night?”

The corners of my mouth turn up as I fail to suppress a grin.

“If I don’t, you’re free to stay here and study until you’re feeling sleepy.”

She returns my smile.

“Sounds wonderful.”

She gives me another quick peck on the lips before she says, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

I watch her walk away, resisting the urge to pull her back into my bed. When she’s gone, I’m left with just my thoughts in the darkened room, which can be a dangerous prospect.

Sometime soon, Laura and I are going to have to talk about our expectations and all the baggage we come with. But maybe I can just enjoy this for a while. We’re two people trying to survive in a world gone sideways. If we can make it a little easier on each other, then why not?