Night Owl

CHAPTER 11

Matt

HANNAH-PROOF THE APARTMENT

1. Buy time (a day)

2. Frozen food (Pam?)

3. Pictures, photo albums

4. Bethany's clothes & shower stuff

5. Girly things (esp. in the bathroom)

6. My books

7. My writing

I reread my list.

I glanced at the TV.

How disturbing. My list seemed infinitely more important than the coverage of the riots in Brazil, where my girlfriend happened to be traveling.

I knew Bethany was safe, though. She'd sent me an email that morning.

In case you were wondering, which I'm sure you were since I can feel your concern all the way in South America (sarcasm), my parents and I are safe. We narrowly missed some rioting in Florianopolis but now we're far from any of it. I'll start calling if you don't write. How are the meals? Kisses, Bethany.


Her threat to start calling felt very real, and very menacing.

I couldn't deal with Bethany calling while I was with Hannah, and I wanted to be with Hannah all the time. Dropping her off last night had been hell.

I had driven Hannah home in stunned silence—no girl ever made me come that fast and that hard with her mouth—and maybe her boldness angered me, but I liked it too. I liked being caught off guard. I liked being provoked. I wanted nothing more than to blow by Hannah's house, drive her to my apartment, bend her over the kitchen counter, and spank her until she cried. And f*ck her hard and make her come, too.

Damn. This girl was getting under my skin.

The worst part was, I could see Hannah's disappointment when I pulled up to her house. She tried to play it off, but she was a shit actress. She'd just given me the blowjob of my young life and I must have seemed annoyed about it.

Why else would I end the night so abruptly? Why else wouldn't I take her to my place?

The questions were plain in her eyes, and the hurt.

She thanked for me dinner.

I barely replied.

My mind was already churning.

How could I have Hannah over when every corner of my apartment screamed, "I have a girlfriend! A female resides here! Look, tampons!"

Step one: buy time.

Subject: Dynamite

Sender: Matthew R. Sky Jr.

Date: Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Time: 8:15 AM

Morning Hannah,

I have plans after work that will go on indefinitely, so if you don't hear from me tonight you know the reason.

Matt

* * *

I sent the email and called Pam.

Step 2: get rid of the suspicious labeled food in my freezer.

It would be a shame to throw out the food, and anyway, I'm not that coldhearted. I felt a stab of guilt as I thought about Bethany cooking and labeling the meals.

My behavior was starting to beg the question—why not just break up with her? Call her and do the deed. Make this right. It had to happen.

But not yet.

Dumping my girlfriend over the phone while she was on vacation felt about as wrong as cheating on her under the same circumstances, and two wrongs...

Shit, think about this later.

"Matthew?" Pam's clipped voice came on the line.

"Hey Pam." I paced through the kitchen. "Look, I need a favor. I need you to swing by and pick something up."

"You have new pages for me?"

Poor Pam, she sounded ridiculously excited. I smirked at the gridlock of Tupperware in my freezer. Pam was the only person I knew who would store and return these without asking any questions. To her, I was simply M. Pierce, eccentric writer extraordinaire.

"New pages?" I said, closing the freezer. "Mm... not quite..."

After Pam left with three grocery bags of frozen meals (and assurances to restore them when I asked), I began to comb my apartment and remove all traces of Bethany.

I thought listening to hiphop would help distract me from the scumbagginess of my task, but after "99 Problems" and "Heartless" I flung my iPod away.

Everything went into duffel bags: pictures of Bethany and I, all my photo albums, her razors, makeup, shampoo, and other toiletries, her jewelry and clothes, my books, manuscripts, files with documents pertaining to royalties and film deals—shit, I even threw my tax stuff in the bag. Yeah, like Hannah would look in my file cabinet. I was getting paranoid.

I locked the stuff in the trunk of my Lincoln.

Damn, I felt like a gangster closing a trunk on a body. This was getting seriously f*cked up. Another surge of guilt went through me as I made my way back up to my apartment.

I felt like I'd taken a ten-mile run, minus the stress relief. I also didn't have a thing left to eat besides a few cans of soup, pasta, and cereal. Awesome.

It was 7:00 p.m.

It took me all day to transform my apartment into a bachelor pad, and the exercise left me feeling dirty and hollow. Plus, I missed Hannah. I missed her voice and the candied scent of her shampoo. I missed her open thighs. I missed her furious blushing, her wet cunt...

I checked my email.

She sent a post for our story yesterday, nothing else.

I added a couple paragraphs to The Surrogate. They were dry and plodding compared to my racing fantasies of Hannah.

I could call her, but I'd already blown her off for the day. Besides, I didn't want to come off as some loser with no life.

Was I a loser with no life? I needed to schedule an appointment with my psychiatrist. He always helped me think my way out of corners, and he was one of a handful of people who knew that Matthew Sky was M. Pierce.

He didn't spare me hard truths, either. I just wasn't sure I wanted to hear the hard truths about Hannah.

I already knew that the price of great pleasure is great pain.

I also knew that this thing with Hannah would hit the ground sooner or later and she would be hurt, god help me, and I wouldn't be able to protect her—to protect her from my own stupid, selfish choices.

Finally these thoughts became too much. I showered and resigned myself to a date with my hand and my poor sketch of Hannah (and the memory of her hot mouth making me come against my will), but when I got out of the shower I saw I'd missed two calls.

Both from Hannah.

I pulled on a pair of boxers and called her back.

"Matt?"

"Hey." I smiled compulsively at the sound of her voice. My cock perked up, too. Perfect, just call me Pavlov's dog. "You called?"

"Yeah. Matt, I..."

Maybe it was because I'd just been knee deep in my girlfriend's stuff, but I had a sudden gaping sense of dread.

"Go on," I said quietly.

"Well, first off, are you busy? I know you said you'd be busy. I don't want to—"

"No! No." I ruffled my damp hair. "I got done with my obligations sooner than expected. I'm home, just kind of dicking around."

Okay, could have phrased that better.

"Oh." Hannah sounded distant. "If you were bored, you could have called me."

"Hm? No, um... I do have stuff to do."

"So do you need to go?"

"No!" Geez, I was starting to feel exasperated. Lies on top of lies on top of lies. "Please, just... talk," I stammered.

"Okay. Okay. So." Hannah gathered a shaky breath. "Did I make some epic mistake last night? At the club?"

"What?" I flopped onto the couch in shock. "God, no. No."

"No?"

"No! No no no. I loved it, Hannah. F*ck, I've thought about little else besides repaying you for that sassy display." I chuckled. "Mm, I almost invited you over last night, except my apartment... was wicked dirty." Another lie on the heap. I probably owned the cleanest apartment in Denver. "I didn't want you to see the sloppy side of Matt."

"I think I've already seen the sloppy side of Matt." Hannah giggled. Her relief was palpable. I laughed with her. Maybe my relief was palpable, too.

"God, little bird. Trust me, your mouth on my cock, god damn..."

I trailed off. My dick was already far too interested in this conversation.

"Okay," Hannah said, "so the next thing. Matt, I can't... accept these." She cleared her throat. I heard a door close. "I mean, my god. I went online, so I know how much they cost. And you obviously had them overnighted. Are you insane? We're going to have to figure out..."

Hannah rambled on about returns and money and paying me back.

For a beat, I was in the dark. Accept these? How much they cost?

Then I remembered. The LELO toys. I jumped up and began pacing around my living room excitedly. Laurence pricked an ear in my direction.

"They arrived? Excellent."

"Yeah, like I said. And I can't—"

"Good, good. I had a hell of a time getting them overnighted, that required a little finessing. You opened them?"

"Yes. Are you not hearing me?"

"Hm?" It was true, I wasn't hearing Hannah. The toys had arrived and my gutter-dwelling mind was whirring. "You have a laptop? With a webcam?"

"Yes, uh, why? If—"

"Good. Okay. Get on your laptop, Hannah, let's Skype."

"Matt—"

I ended the call. I may very well have skipped into the office.

Hannah was already on Skype when I logged on. I started a video call.

She was sitting in bed with her back to the headboard and wearing a gray camisole, no bra by the look of it. She grinned when she saw me.

"Are you naked?" she laughed.

"What? No. Shirtless." I frowned down at myself.

"I demand proof."

I rolled my eyes. I also started VodBurner to record our call.

"I think you called enough of the shots last night, Hannah. But so you don't think I'm a total perv—" I aimed the webcam down at my lap. I was wearing a pale pair of Etiquette Clothiers boxers. "—there you go. Would you like me to keep the camera at this angle? Clearly you were making a play to see my junk, so..."

"Matt!" Hannah turned red. I smirked and fixed the camera.

I could have grabbed my laptop and gotten more comfortable, but my desktop was already on—and I was feeling impatient.

"Lemme see your room," I said.

Hannah turned her laptop, giving me a quick view of the room. I saw a bed, bookshelves, boxes, and... not much else.

"I like what you've done with the place."

"I just got here," she grumbled, twisting the laptop back around, "and I've had zero time to unpack. Some guy keeps distracting me."

"What a wanker," I said. "He should really give you some time to turn that den into a cute little nest. Maybe he should help you pimp out your nest..."

"No he shouldn't!" Hannah glowered at the screen and I laughed. God, it felt good to be talking to her again. And she definitely wasn't wearing a bra. When she leaned closer, I could see her nipples.

My cock stirred.

"You might want headphones if anyone's in hearing distance," I said. "I'm about to start talking about those beautiful tits of yours."

"Oh, yeah... be right back." Hannah slipped away.

I dashed to the bathroom, found my lube, and beat her back. She reappeared with a bulky headset. Her blush was still firmly in place.

"Don't judge me," she said as she plugged in the jack and fit the earphones on. They engulfed her ears. Noise-canceling, by the look. "I used to be a gamer."

"Nah, they're perfect," I said.

They were perfect, even if they looked a little silly. With the mic right by her mouth I would be able to hear every noise she made, and she would be able to hear only me. "You're not wearing a bra, are you Hannah? I can see your nipples. They're hard. Is your door locked? Show me a breast, just one. Keep it out."

"It's locked," Hannah whispered.

"Your breast," I demanded.

I heard her breath quicken.

"Right, sorry." She slid off the thin straps of her cami and stretched the neckline below one of her breasts. It spilled down and I heard her sigh.

"Mm, is that nice for you?" I began to rub my cock through my boxers. "To let it out? I know they're heavy. You love it when I lift and squeeze them, don't you? Show me the other one. Shake them for me."

Hannah's blush extended down her neck to her chest. She rolled down the other half of her cami and I clenched my teeth against a moan. Her dark curls fell softly around her, framing her chest. She twisted from side to side. The motion made her breasts bounce and sway.


"Mm, f*ck," I hissed. "Good baby, f*ck. That's exactly how they bounce and shake when I f*ck you. It makes me want to f*ck you harder. Are you getting wet showing off for me?"

"Yes," she whispered. Her eyelids fluttered.

"Let me see the toys."

Hannah pulled two black boxes onto her lap and fumbled with the lids. She displayed the toys one at a time.

I had gotten her a large plum-colored waterproof vibrator, the largest one LELO sold, and a small high-powered *oral stimulator. As Hannah handled the larger vibrator, she stroked her fingers over it.

"You like it?" I said.

"Matt, it feels so incredibly silky. I don't even know how they can make something feel this luxurious. Oh, and it has a ridiculous number of speeds and settings. And this little one? The vibrations are so strong!"

Hannah's blush darkened. I reached into my boxers, glad she couldn't see me doing it.

"So, you already played with them?"

"No! Er, not like that. I tested the speeds."

"Good. You'll use them for the first time now, with me watching. You're keeping them, Hannah. They're yours, but I'm going to get a lot of pleasure out of them. Position your laptop so I can see your p-ssy. Get out of your shorts and panties. Let me watch."

While Hannah was busy positioning the laptop and shimmying out of her shorts and a thong, I pushed off my boxers and squirted lube into my palm. I glanced at my cock. It stood stiffly from me, nine thick, smooth inches for which I didn't thank God often enough. I tensed as I began to spread the cold lube along my shaft.

On the screen, I watched Hannah struggling to position her laptop. She spread her legs and I got a beautiful shot of her p-ssy, open like a rose and glistening.

"Damnit," I whispered. "Look how wet you are, you gorgeous slut. I love the color of your cunt."

I heard Hannah moan softly. She closed her legs a little.

"Spread them," I snapped. "Spread your legs for me. Are you embarrassed? Are you embarrassed to know I'm staring at the most private part of your body? God, look at it Hannah."

"Yes," she admitted quietly.

"And you like it, too. You like how filthy I am. You like it when I embarrass you."

"Yes."

I laughed. Hannah's vocab dropped radically when we got intimate. I loved it. She turned from my silver-tongued sparring partner into my docile minx.

With a shudder, I remembered that I was recording this video call.

"Slip that vibrator into your tight body, Hannah. Work it in. Don't use any lube. You shouldn't need any, you're so wet. Turn it on."

I stroked my cock and massaged my sac as Hannah tried to maneuver the phallic toy into her sex. I watched her lips spread around it.

"Nn... too big," she murmured.

"Get it in," I snarled. "I'm bigger than that, and I'll be f*cking you tomorrow. Do it."

"Oh, Matt, Matt..."

I forced myself to jerk off slowly. I could have come then and there, watching Hannah wriggle the vibrator into herself. She kept pulling it out and then pushing it deeper.

"Look at you, f*cking yourself with it already. A girl and her toys..." I smirked. It felt good to be cruel, to mock her at moments like this. "Faster, Hannah. What do you need to get off, hm? Something inside or just something on your *?"

She shoved the vibrator in deeper, turned it on, and began to f*ck herself with it.

"Ohhh," she groaned. "B-b... both, I... I need both."

"Ah, god." I let myself moan. "You're making this so good for me Hannah. It feels so good. I knew you needed both. You love to have my dick inside of you, don't you? You need it."

"Yes, god yes," she panted.

"Hannah, baby, you make it easy for me to come. Use the other toy on your *. I'm going to watch you come. Make it good, make a big mess and I'll go easier on you tomorrow. Tomorrow I'm going to teach you a lesson. I wanted to f*ck you in the Dynamite Club and you sucked me off, you filthy girl. Couldn't wait to get your mouth on my cock, could you?"

I couldn't stop the dirty talk spilling out of me. Damn, I really was depraved. All I knew was that arousal worked on me like a drug. It took my mind and body to another plane.

"Let me see it," Hannah pleaded as she sped up the vibrator inside of her. She added the smaller toy, fitting it against the hood of her * and dialing up the speed.

She began to gasp and writhe. I couldn't tear my eyes off her tight sex clamped around the vibrator.

"Please," she rasped. She fiddled with the setting on the toy inside. I heard its two motors firing in a fast alternating rhythm.

"You want to see my cock Hannah? Look at you, playing with your toys. How's that setting, are you making it pulse? You want me inside, don't you?"

"Oh, yes, please, yes."

My hand worked furiously. I wanted to wait for Hannah, but I didn't know how much longer I would last.

"Look what you do to me," I gasped. As I angled the webcam down at my lap, I felt a fringe of the shame Hannah must have been feeling. It was so intimate, to let her see me pleasuring myself.

"Matt, f*ck," Hannah moaned. "I'm coming, god... oh god."

At that, I stiffened in my office chair and grabbed a tissue just in time to come into it. Holy f*ck, had seeing my cock pushed Hannah over the edge? As pleasure tore through me, I watched Hannah squirm and clutch her toys, fluid spurting around her fingers.

What an incredible orgasm.

We laughed as we cleaned up and came down.

I stopped recording the video call and pulled on my boxers. Hannah lounged on her belly, propped up on her elbows. She hadn't bothered to fix her cami. Her bust rested on the quilt. It was beautiful to see her looking so relaxed; I only wished she were in my bed.

"Hey," I said, smiling and sinking into my office chair.

"Hi." Hannah smiled. She was a goddess wearing nothing but her glasses. "So Matt, where are you going to have your way with me tomorrow?"

"At my place," I said, "If you'd like to see it."

"I'd love to."

"Good. You going to be busy at all?"

"Not by the time you get off work," she said. "I'm sure I'll have some work from mom. It won't take me long. I should probably spend some time looking for a real job."

"I'll take a day. I'll pick you up around noon. Will you be free then?"

"I should be, yeah."

"Good. Hannah, have you ever thought about a career in publishing?"

"Seriously?" Hannah laughed and tousled her hair. The longest pieces reached to the middle of her back. I wanted to yank on those dark curls while I spanked her. "That would be my dream job, hence the English and business double major. It's so tough to break into though. I can't afford to do an unpaid internship right now."

I paused before speaking.

"Mm. I'll keep that in mind. I have a few connections in the city."

"Matt, if you don't stop doing me favors, I'm going to start feeling like a kept woman."

"Hey, I like the sound of that. I'll keep you tied to my bed and let you suck on me when you're hungry. What do you think?"

Hannah giggled and bunched up a pillow beneath her chest.

"I'd smack you with this if I could," she said. She stifled a yawn. F*ck, she was precious. "Oh, hey. Will you do me a favor Matt?"

"Anything."

"This is easy. Just repeat after me. 'It was nice talking to you, Hannah. I'll see you tomorrow. Goodnight.'"

I gave her an incredulous look.

"Don't give me that look. I'm trying to teach you this mysterious skill, one that you seem to lack. It's called how to say goodbye."

I smiled and rubbed the back of my neck.

"What are you grinning at?" she said.

"I never want to," I said.

"What? Never want to what?"

"I never want to learn how to say goodbye."

I closed Skype and then closed my eyes, laughing into the silence of my apartment.