Working Stiff by Grant Stoddard

Author:Grant Stoddard
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins

ALL THE WAY AND BACK AGAIN

I PICKED OUT a pineapple-and-cheese skewer from the buffet table and looked across the plush hotel suite at Fiona. She shot me a smile that was simultaneously caring and seductive. It was only our third date but I had a good feeling about this girl from the moment I’d met her, a feeling that was at odds with my growing distain for the English, specifically the English abroad. Fiona was resoundingly English. I thought she looked like Kate Winslet, but blonder, and svelter. She’d grown up in a leafy part of Berkshire, in a village with a cricket green and a village hall and a pub with ivy growing wild up the walls. Fiona was very posh, and in a good-natured sort of way she made fun of my accent. She said I spoke like a chimney sweep.

We shared a bottle of wine on our first date and kissed some. The second date we had cocktails and dinner and she stayed over at my place in Chinatown. We did it five times and she fell asleep on my chest.

I imagined that she might put my parents on edge if I took her home to meet them. I’d warn my mother, who would likely say something like, “She’ll have to take us as she finds us.” Though I feared that Fiona’s excellent diction and expensive Alpine education might snap the whole family into subservience.

I couldn’t conceive of a person like me dating a girl like Fiona back at home. I suppose us both living in the alleged meritocracy of New York made that happen. This was my fourth year in America and her second month.

“Are you okay?” she mouthed. She’d noticed that my mood had changed over the course of the past three hours. She’d surmised that as I grazed the buffet I was working something through in my mind.

“I’m fine,” I said.

I was at the party for work, and as such found it hard to let go.

She beckoned me closer to her. I squeezed my way through the gyrating crowd and stood by the ornate chaise longue she reclined upon.

“We can go if you’d like,” she said. Fiona ruffled my hair with her free hand.

“No, really, it’s cool. Enjoy yourself.”

I wasn’t being a martyr; I had a flight to London at 8:00 a.m. the next day. It was already 2:00 a.m. and I had planned to take a cab directly to JFK from the hotel. I stick rigidly to any plans that I make. I’d brought my suitcase to the party.

Still locking eyes with my date, I slumped down in an antique leather armchair.

Fiona smiled sweetly before turning to face the wrist-thick ten-inch penis she’d been absentmindedly pumping in her right fist and hungrily licked it from hilt to tip. Its owner, a quarterback-looking type, groaned with pleasure, prompting his girlfriend to sink her fingers ever deeper into his ass while fondling Fiona’s large alabaster breasts. This reinvigorated the small Thai man with the blond bouffant who pounded away between her legs with a huge smile plastered across his face.

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