New York Nuptials

I'm fucked up, hell, I know that, insane tonight. Fuck I know in this little outfit I'm poured into I look tight, maybe a little fem, if a girl has eyes for that complicated me. I'm a lawyer, but not really, just to pretend, to allow me to love and hate and be the deviant I am, and I met her this morning, at the firm, she rocked my world. It was immediate, inside my organs when she purred into my office. She's Brazilian, fucking unique and exotic and she was like some kind of giant earth magnet, dark, filled with soul and sex and rock'n'roll and she knew it, I knew it. No one had to tell her, we, her, me, well her eyes fired up, sexed up and now she's late and I'm sitting in this fucking bar in Manhattan and my three inch stilettos feel like point girls for some kind of ballistic missile sex mission I'm on. Man, I have needs, fucking really need something that will incinerate my heart, blast my soul into vaporized comet tails, I want it to flame out my heart. Where is the bitch, this erratic and erotic girl I want to rip me up, fuck me, tell me I'm beautiful, stick her head inside my cunt and see what the fuck is going down in there and still I'm surrounded by men. Suit types, who wouldn't have a fucking idea what to do with something like me, this body, crazy me, insatiable me and I no more want a dick in me, than I would want a lobotomy from these insipid posers.

If the bitch doesn't walk through that door now, right now, I'm might have to settle, maybe for one of these Bond Trader boys. Who might, if a miracle came along, know how to fuck me, use me, maybe before he came after rutting around for a few minutes? But no, my dildo at home knows more about this girl's bod then these men, and I use the word loosely and tragically.

Christ, my cunt feels like it's melting. I'm having trouble seeing, thinking it through, gawking at the door, waiting for that Cinnamon piece of silk to cruise through, see me, smile at me, come to me. I'm hating the way those pricks are leering at me, playing their corporate game on me. If I look at my Goddamn watch one more time, I'm going to implode and puddle up right here on the floor.

There she is, fuck it, she's even more beautiful than I remember, that long, black hair, that anaconda body, pimped into that dress, that skin, she's smiling at me. I have to blink her teeth are so paper white. Fuck, I'm a Master of my Universe and I feel like a little girl, be cool girl, she's here for a reason, those wide wild black eyes know everything, maybe the secret of string theory and here it comes. The men are parting like the fucking Red Sea. She doesn't notice them at all, for her sex drive, her over drive is aimed directly at me, and I wish I could get my fucking high heels to stop vibrating on the floor.

I'm in love, a fool, she slices up to me, touches my face as if we're lovers, kisses me on the cheek and whispers in that silk accent at me some kind of nonsense, in me, around me and my head is rotating off its axis and she could be speaking Mongolian and I could fucking care less. So I chat, pout a little, that always worked before and hope she can't smell the sex exploding from every pore in my body. She's direct, funny, every time she laughs and smiles I want to lift her up on the bar, spread her legs, ram my fist into her and break my lips on hers, but I don't. The martinis are kicking in, thank fucking God for Stoli, and now she's taken my hand like I'm some kind of school girl and we're walking though the eyeballs and the leers and murmurs and I feel like some kind of bent queen, for obviously she's chosen me. Christ, she's young, bullet proof, and sure, and I hope there's time, just a little before her jet zooms off and she's back on some beach in Brazil, breaking heart there.

Auto Pilot, we're through the door, where we're off to who the fuck knows, I could care less. She stops, smiles, leans in and kisses me, presses that Boa body against mine. People are staring, she doesn't notice, she kisses me, ignites me, the inside of my legs spilling liquids so fast I feel like I just got out of a swimming pool.

I can't stop, I can't break aways from those hit men she calls eyes. She looks happy, I can see her breasts swelling, she winks at me, looks around, seems to know what she is doing, what she wants, I'm not going anywhere as she kisses me again. This time her tongue feel like a glorious key to a journey I've already taken in my mind. Turning, she peeks to the right, there's an alley there and she turns and smiles and then takes my hand and leads me to the open mouth of the alley. She glances at the gold watch on her slender wrist. She knows, we're on the clock, and La Guardia is soon, too soon, but that doesn't seem to matter to her, she is very confident. She leads me into the alley, where it's dark and I can smell the garbage, fuck, its all right, how does she know?
J Brooke