Cherries & Milk

A Story by sirsaff

A love story..... sort of

He figured he must have been at the bar longer than he expected because the last time he looked up, Frank Malador and his administrative staff were still at the podium for the opening ceremony. He remembered grinning as Frank, the CEO of Malador Financial, popped the first bottle of champagne, finalizing the merger of Malador Financial and First Merit Group.

Startled by the shattering of a bottle from behind the bar, he motioned over the bartender for another round. He revolved slowly on his stool and scanned over the group of business men and their wives as they danced the same monotonous two-step like marching Stormtroopers. He stopped when he caught glimpse of a woman dancing off in the corner; her rhythm foreign to that of the beat. She swayed carelessly, like leaves in the wind of a brewing storm, in her own world regardless of the drones around. Orgasmic expressions made love upon her face as she spun in total bliss and ecstasy.

Drunk off of her aura, he threw back the last of his freshly poured scotch and made his way on to the dance floor. He grooved through the crowd moving closer in her direction. As he neared, he noticed she not only danced alien, but looked it as well. Her hair was dreaded loosely and came down below her shoulders, just enough to conceal the straps from her black dress. Under the dress she wore bright yellow flowered leggings and Jordan Aqua 8s. “Eh hem,” shrilled a voice interrupting his daydream. Once he realized it was her standing right in front of him, he quickly snapped out of it. “I saw you giving me that come stare,” she said.

“Excuse m-“

“As if you were imagining yourself cumming on my face,” she interrupted, pulling him closer.

“The thought may have crossed my mind, but I wouldn’t dare do such a thing, unless you insisted.” She managed to hold back a chuckle. “Would you mind a dance,” he asked. She obliged and gently wrapped her arms around his neck as she ran her fingers through his hair. They rounded the dance floor, swaying in each other’s arms, until their steps grew fewer and fewer.

“Hey how about we go walk and get some air,” said the coquette. Without hesitation, he led the way out to the busy New York street. The cold breeze from the brisk autumn night broke the silence that began their walk. Out of his peripheral he studied her figure, scaling down her curves. He could feel his libido rising as he placed his white overcoat around her shoulders.

As he ran his hand down her left arm he says, “So how long have you been married?”

“Oh that,” she takes a quick glance at her hand, “I’m not married, I’m a Buddhist.”

Puzzled but too drunk to care, he continued his scan, causing him to miss the cat creeping in front him. “Ah, you f*****g prick!” He screamed as the cat quickly clawed at his ankle for stepping on its tail.

“Oh you poor thing you,” she said, kneeling down to appease the animal. “Haven’t you any manners?” Peering up at him, she hastily rummaged through the debris in the alley that lay aside the nearby trashcan, only ceasing once she found a used sardine can. She reached in her handbag and pulled out a bag of cherries and a flask. She placed a few cherries in the can she opened the flask and poured in a gulp of milk, scooting it closer to the cat.

“Now what possible reason could you have for carrying a flask full of milk?” He snickered while trying horribly to conceal his laughter.

Shooting him a cold stare, she returned her belongings to her pouch. “When I was born the doctors told my mother I was allergic to water, so a milk formula was made with the necessary nutrients and minerals I lacked.”

He empathetically stammered, “Wow, are you serious? Sorry. I didn’t- I,” stopping only once he registered the devilish smile spilling onto her lips.

“I figured you had half a brain when I saw you, but boy was I mistaken,” her smile grew into a soft maniacal laugh. Grabbing him by the shirt, she thrust him closer and whispered, “I want to show you my secret spot,” lightly grazed his earlobe, “in the Big Apple.” She pushed off of him and resumed walking while dancing with the same rhythm from the club and singing “Hurry, hurry! We must get there before the ghouls do.”

He reluctantly proceeded, following her as she swayed along the sidewalk while simultaneously playing pocket pool to deflate the growing bulge in his pressed tuxedo pants. They continued walking into the night and after what seemed like an hour, she turned to him and chimed “So what exactly do you do, Mr.-”

“Oh, how silly of me, my name is Jim, Jim Moody, I work in accounting,” he imposed, “And you are?”

“You know,” she said as she resumed walking, “We decide what we see. Our senses are presented with visions faster than time’s flow, beckoning for a view, yet only one is chosen.” She paused for a second and looked back at Jim, “They say the gods love the obscure and hate the obvious.”

“I thought you were a Buddhist.”

Casting him a harsh look she proclaims, “They say, not I; anyways it’s not about that, it’s about delivering the unexpected.” She kept on, ignoring Jim’s constant attempts for rebuttal, “You shouldn’t drink so much, ya know. I saw you, at the bar. You’ll end up like all the other men I know; spending morning after morning with your head in the toilet.”

Slightly agitated, Jim finally gained an opportunity to speak. “Thanks for the impromptu intervention but is this ‘secret spot’ of yours coming up anytime soon?”

“Hm, I’ve changed my mind,” she said as she sat down on a nearby bench, “Tell me, do you fancy me?”

Taken aback, Jim stammered, “Well, I, uh-”

“Never mind that, do you fancy any drugs?”

Having only tried marijuana once in college, Jim lied “I’ll smoke some Mary Juan every now and then, and I tried shrooms once or twice in college.”

She burst into another fit of laughter, “I said drugs you p***y, not plants.” Her laughter subdued, “I’m talking crank, Lucy, Al Capone!” She reached inside her handbag and pulled out a small blush mirror, containing a pouch of powdery white substance. “Save a bump?” she said, fixing a line of the substance on her bill folder. She handed him a rolled dollar and he cautiously approached the line. “You’ll have to do it faster than that, we don’t have all night!”

He swiftly inhaled, nearly collapsing from the burn traveling up his nostril. Fighting back tears that begged for their release, Jim whimpered, “Alright let me see you do one.”

“HA! A lady of my stature? I would never dabble in such petty activities.”

“Well why are you-“

“Why do you carry milk, Why do you do this, why do we s**t, why, why, WHY! I swear do you ever stop talking? With you and all of your damn questions, your mother must have loathed you” She screamed over Jim, rising from the bench, “Ya know, if you did as many things as you asked, you might just be occupied enough in your life to not turn to drugs.”

“But I don’t-”

“When you’re losing control of your life, it helps to focus on what you’re good at. Are you good at anything, Jim?”

Feeling what must be the effects of the powder; Jim jumped up from the bench and exclaimed, “I’m good at running!” He took off as fast as his legs would allow, followed closely by the woman who was now, to Jim’s surprise, simultaneously running and dancing, laughing and singing while levitating and gaining on him rapidly. He sprinted, determined to outrun her for reasons unknown to him. His ambitions were halted as she tackled him to the ground.

“I got you!” She said as she got off of him. He hoisted himself up and dusted his pants. “You can’t be good at too much of anything if you felt to mention that sorry running.”

Jim tried to collect his thoughts, as his head started to spin and his lunch bargained for a revisit. He swiftly turned down the alley to evade her sight, and vomited. He aimed for the trashcan but missed, landing on an empty sardine can and a dead cat that laid nearby.

She turned the corner, slowly approaching his side. “Aw, are you ok? You mustn’t set fire to your insides, ya know. Drugs are illegal for a reason.” As Jim’s regurgitating seemed to be finding an end, she drearily said, “We’re almost to the club, I better get going. My husband is probably worried sick about where I am.” She turned away and headed towards the open street.

Regaining himself, Jim wiped his face and screamed after her, “Wait, husband? What? Wait! Hey! At least tell me your name!”

She looked over her shoulder with a devilish smile and said, “Olivia.” She pulled a cigarette out of her handbag she continued, “Olivia Malador.” Jim stepped back and stumbled, landing next to the cat and his own spew.