“You are allowed pets in your apartment?” Eric’s father asked as he emerged from the bathroom.

Eric, seated with his mother at the table, frowned and asked, “What are you talking about? What pet?”

“There is a small black and furry creature crawling around behind your toilet,” Father grunted. “Must be a rat.”

“Oh my God. You have rats?” his mother exclaimed.

Eric smirked. “I don’t have rats. Dad is just making it up.”

“Just because you don’t see rats, it does not mean that there are no rats,” Father declared.

“I don’t have rats, Dad.”

“Rats are sneaky.”

“I don’t have rats!” Eric snapped.

“Don’t raise your voice at your father,” Mother scolded through a kerchief covering her mouth and nose.

Eric said to her, “You don’t need that. You can see that I keep the place clean.”

Her eyes narrowed, scanning his squalid apartment with suspicion. “You do not have to see germs.”

“Germs are sneaky,” added Father.

Eric sighed and looked towards his grandmother seated on his futon, smiling at her cellphone. She usually had his back except when she was blissfully lost in YouTube like she was now, watching endless videos of cats in tutus.

He had come home early from the library because his parents had suddenly announced that they were going to visit him for dinner. It was the first time since he had moved out that they had done so. While they disapproved of him leaving home, they still wanted to check on him. The fact that he had definitely broken up with Yana also managed to appease them enough to come over after previously fearing that they may run into the “deviant trollop”.

Their visit, of course, was just what he needed after his previous night of frustratingly stunted self-pleasuring.

At least they had brought food. He missed the home cooking. Eric stuffed his mouth with a heap of beef noodles as he slouched forward in his chair.

“Did you go to church today?” mother asked. She already knew the answer was “no”. It was like she was just looking for something else to pick at.

“I was at the library,” he replied.

“And how are your studies?” asked Father.

Eric shrugged. “Good.”

“I mean your real studies,” Father said. “Not English or... Anthropology.” He pronounced “anthropology” as if it were the root cause of flatulence.

Eric grimaced. Father meant his economics and business courses. “Fine,” he grumbled.

“You should ask your cousin Carie to help you again,” Mother said. “She is very smart. She is an accountant.”

“Yes, mom. You say that over and over. She’s a junior accountant,” Eric mumbled, then pursed his lips and looked away. Each time he went over to Carie’s place for tutoring, his cousin would end up in some sort of weird shenanigans with her neighbour across the hall, the type that would make Eric's Bible-clutching mother transform into a pillar of salt if she had even an inkling of them. To think that the rest of the family thought of Carie as the pristine angel of the clan… just, wow.

While they continued to eat and grumble at one another, they suddenly heard some footsteps in the hallway outside, passing by his apartment. Then they heard the other apartment door open and shut.

Father looked at him. “You have a neighbour?”

Eric nodded.

“Man or woman?” Father asked, with a suspicious scowl.

“Woman.”

“Single?”

Eric nodded again.

Mother eyed him. “Chinese?”

Eric paused then shook his head.

She rolled her eyes and head with an exaggerated motion, clucking her tongue. Only her son could move to Chinatown and end up living beside a non-Chinese female.

Grimacing, Eric said, “Don’t worry, mom. We’re not dating or anything. She just lives next door.”

Mother still looked sour… at least from the bridge of her nose up. Damned if even disdain was enough to make her drop that kerchief.

“Women are sneaky,” Father muttered.

“Look,” Eric said, putting down his chopsticks, “she’s a perfect neighbour. Doesn’t cause trouble. She’s nice and quiet…”

That was the queue for Millie to turn on her television set with the volume good and loud. Some voices and music filtered clearly through the thin walls and into Eric’s apartment.

“What is that?” asked Father. Both parents scowled towards the wall.

“It’s nothing. It’s just her television,” Eric said, trying to reassure them that it was no big deal. He frowned as well, though. The music sounded… odd. Kind of twangy, like elevator music gone wrong. What was Millie watching?

Despite the sound from Millie’s television, they managed to resume eating.

“Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah! Oh, baby! Uhn! Uhn! Uhn!”

Everyone at the table froze for a moment, then turned their heads warily towards the wall.

“Uhn! Uhn! Uuh-hhn!” the strained gasping continued. It sounded like a woman struggling to pull herself out of a deep, muddy ditch. Eric knew there was no ditch, of course.

A heaving, husky voice huffed: “Get’er done! Get’er done!”

“Get who done?” asked Father.

“What are they getting done?” Mother added, aghast.

Eric shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, sporting a sheepish, cringing grin.

“Oh, yeah! Oh, ye-ahhh! Oh, my gawd! Oh, my GAWWWD!”

Incredibly, the kerchief pulled away from Mother’s mouth, her hands dropping limply to her lap.

Eric opened his mouth. For half a second, he actually pondered if he should suggest that maybe it was some sort of religious movie…

“FUCK! Oh my fucking gawd, ye- ahhh! Fuck me like that, baby! Harder! Oh, shi-it! Uhhhn!”

...then he closed his mouth, guessing that explanation wouldn’t fly.

“Are your neighbours having a dinner party?” Grandmother cheerfully asked from the futon in her native Mandarin. “It sounds like fun. You should join them.”

“Yeah, baby! Your hot cock is so hard! So fucking good! Ye-ahh! Oh, gawd! UHHN!”

Eric’s parents gawked as if they were witnessing the anus of Hell itself. Mother made the sign of the cross.

He quickly shoveled as much food in his mouth as he could. He doubted he was going to get any home cooked meals again for the foreseeable future.

---oo---

It was bound to happen. Dig through enough unmarked videos and DVDs and you’d be bound to come across at least a couple of porn movies. Millie evidently did on Sunday evening. Judging by the fact that she spent the rest of the week watching endless amounts of it whenever she was home, morning and night, it probably meant that she had hit the motherlode.  

Coincidentally, Eric didn’t run into her at all during the week, and she hadn’t sought him out. When he heard the sound of carnality spewing from the other side of the wall, he interrupted whatever he was doing --eating, studying, sleeping-- to listen and ponder what exactly Millie looked like while she was watching this stuff. Due to the obscenely explicit noises also filling his skull, the thoughts weren't as appealing or arousing as they could have been.

Actually, the sounds often sent mild shudders up his spine as they conjured memories of how sex was with Yana: tenderizing.

Sunday rolled around again. When Eric arrived home in the afternoon from the library, he was surprised to find Millie sitting at the bottom of the stairwell of their apartment the moment he opened the street level door. With her trademark hat shadowing her face, she had her elbows on her knees, her chin resting in her palms, head slightly askew, looking like a cat waiting to be amused.

Eric blinked. “Oh, hey,” he said, taken aback. “Are you waiting for someone?”

Millie’s brows twitched. “Does anyone else live here?”

“That, uh…” he said, grimacing, “that doesn’t really answer my question… I think?”

She sat up and asked, “Do you want to watch something?”

“More episodes of Fresh Prince?” he asked hesitantly.

Millie shook her head.

Eric twisted his mouth aside, struggling to decide what to do. He didn’t know why he felt so apprehensive.

She stood up and started up the stairs. “It’s okay if you don’t feel like it.”

“No!” he blurted. “I mean, yeah, sure. Of course!”

He just couldn’t help himself.  

Millie turned around and looked at him. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw the right side of her mouth curl upward into something of a smile. As she headed up the stairs and down the hallway to her apartment, Eric obediently followed as if tethered to her by some invisible rope.

Millie led him through the door and closed it behind him. When he turned around, she was leaning against the door, her hands behind her back regarding him carefully with her green eyes. They seemed darker than usual, and not because they were in the shadow of the brim of her hat.

Again, Eric hesitated then flinched and said, “Oh, right! Shoes. Sorry, I keep forgetting.”

Yet, as he quickly undid his sneakers and pulled them off, he sensed that wasn’t why she was staring at him like that.

She removed her hat and dropped it on her table as she walked to the sofa. As usual, she swept her long skirt under her legs as she sat, then she picked up a DVD resting on the arm of the sofa, missing its case, and gave it to Eric.

He looked at, puzzled. It was a burned disc. “Top Gun” was scrawled in permanent marker on the front. Deep within, he sighed in relief.

“You want to watch this?” he asked.

Millie’s brows arched up.

“Yeah, of course,” he chuckled. Why would she hand it to him, otherwise?

He popped the DVD into the player and then joined Millie on the sofa, prepared for a late afternoon of classic 80’s action and thrills.

Bold titles blasted onto the screen: “TOP GUNZ… XXX: BOMB MY ASS”.

Eric’s eyes blinked open wide to near perfect circles.

“WELCOME TO THE DANGER FUCK ZONE, BITCHES”

His stomach plummeted faster than his jaw. “Danger zone”, indeed.

After a minute of listening to blaring synth music and seeing names like Jett Driver and Mindy Mounds flash on the screen, he turned towards Millie. She didn’t seem bothered in the slightest, but he asked anyway, “Is this… um…. I think this the wrong movie?”

She looked at him completely unfettered, cocking her head as if to say, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think this is the Tom Cruise version,” Eric said, grinning earnestly.

Millie’s eyes narrowed. “Tom Cruise version?” she asked.

“No, I think this is…” he started to say, then continued, “Do you really want to watch this?”

“Don’t you?” she asked, then added. “Do you want to leave?”

Staring back at her placid and compelling face, it was at this moment that Eric finally recalled what exactly Millie reminded him of: those “Chinese finger traps” he so often got stuck in when he was a young child. The harder he pulled, the more stuck he became until he was left wailing in front of his laughing family, fearful he was going to have to cut off his fingers to get out.

“No, I can stay,” he said, trying to sound as cool about it as possible. God, he hoped he wouldn’t end up crying or losing any body parts.

She blinked twice at him and shrugged offering something of a nod of her chin. Her eyes slid first back towards the television, joined momentarily by her entire face. Then she settled into her seat.   

Eric’s attention lingered on her for a while longer before turning to the television. It didn’t take long for the movie to get into the thick of things. He barely caught the tail end of some stock fighter jet footage before the scene shifted abruptly to some flimsy excuse of a locker room set.

In swaggered an oiled up pilot dude with his flight suit hanging off from his waist and a mullet that would be the envy of any entire 80’s high school yearbook photo. He was followed by a stiletto-heeled buxom brunette “lieutenant” barely contained by her two-sizes, too small blouse and skirt.

After some banter --including a pun about entering the lieutenant’s dang-erogenous zone, likely written on a candy wrapper moments before shooting-- off came, the Halloween store costumes and down went the pilot and the lieutenant. Well, she went down first, but a minute later it didn’t really matter who was on top of whom.

The intense grunts, groans, and swearing that had become familiar to Eric for the past week immediately resonated through Millie’s apartment, now accompanied by the corresponding images. They may as well have been watching it on a 60-inch screen, the explicitness of the grinding bodies coming through like the blinding sun on Millie’s tiny monitor.

“Huhn! Huhn! Yeah, baby! Fire in the hole! Shit! Fuck me hard!”

Every muscle of Eric’s face seemed detached from the other. No matter how hard he tried to remain unmoved by the action on the screen, his expression altered every other second.  And just as still Millie appeared to be on her side of the sofa, he was as equally fidgety in his seat.

They watched for almost an hour. The movie seemed endless; the haranguing clamour of desperate sex, endless. Between the sex scenes, there were brief, one or two minutes of pointless dialogue and change in sets, but otherwise, it was an all-out assault.

Feeling like his spine was fusing together as he sat, Eric was ready to accept simply going numb until it was all over.  

But then, Millie had her own ideas.

---oo---

Which brings us back to (not quite) the beginning of our story…

“Eric,” Millie said, “do you want to try that?”

Eric tried to remain calm despite his heart crawling up his throat.  

“S-sorry, what?” He pretended he didn’t understand what Millie was asking, even though her steady voice came through crystal clear over the clamour of breakneck sex emanating from her television.

Millie, leaning on her hand on the seat as she looked over at him, tilted her head towards the movie. “That,” she said, “do you want to try that?”

Eric shifted his eyes over to the television. Right at that moment in the movie, a barrel-chested beefcake held a barbell-shaped woman upside down in his arms, scrambling his slobbering tongue against her crotch while she plunged his shaft past her dripping lips. Even if you closed your eyes, the sloshing, slurping noises they made offered a fairly vivid idea of what was happening.

“That?” he said, the word plopping out from his mouth. He had no idea what to say. He pointed at the screen.

Millie froze the DVD with the remote, mercifully silencing the movie. With a pouted lower lip, she offered a subtle nod and “Mm.”

“You mean that, that? That right now, that? What they’re doing, that? Or are you talking about a general sort of that?” Eric talked fast, his hands and fingers joining in, waving around as he tried to make sense of everything with his entire body.

“Mm.” Her slim brows angled upward. Eric almost read it as a hopeful look… or maybe she was regarding him as completely hopeless. Yet, it was undeniable that she continued to slowly lean in towards him.

Looking at her as she cast him in the unwavering beacon of her green eyes, Eric’s lips quivered slightly. He drew a deep breath and felt his Adam’s Apple do a shimmy as he swallowed. A final question came to mind. He had to muster everything within him to roll the dice and ask, “You… and me… that?”

Still shifting slowly closer towards him, Millie’s lashes came down with a long, deliberate blink. When they raised, the look in her mesmerizing green eyes offered a very certain answer.  

A nervous grin twitched onto Eric’s lips. He suddenly was kicking himself for even hesitating. “Uh… yeah,” he said, almost chuckling at the absurdity. He looked at the television and added, “Maybe not exactly whatever it is they’re doing right now, but-”

He couldn’t complete the sentence. As soon as his head turned back towards Millie, his mouth was smothered by her lips.  

It was as if they were picking up right where they had left off the previous Saturday before Millie aborted the moment: arms around one another, lips locked, tongues touching. Actually, it seemed to Eric like Millie had also hit the fast forward button, immediately pressing the issue, almost climbing onto him. His head was hanging back over the arm of the sofa, she was so on top of him, fingers clawing at his chest as she smeared her mouth over him.

“Um, Millie. Umph,” he mumbled as their mouths momentarily slipped apart. “Can you… mmph… are you sure… mmph…”

He suddenly felt her hand at his crotch, her delicate, long fingers and soft palm rubbing provocatively against his pants between his thighs.

Okay, so yeah. She was sure. Eric decided to just shut up.

His hips rolled slowly up and down to the rhythm of her groping hand as he leaned back allowing Millie to take the lead. His hand meanwhile found its way to her round bottom, feeling her shift back and forth as they continued to kiss.

Eric felt her fingers confidently work the button of his pants and unzip his fly. Still folding his mouth against hers, he raised his hips to push his pants to around his thighs.  

For a moment, Millie continued to stroke him through his underwear. He grew harder by the second till his tip sprouted up from under the waistband. After rolling her palm and thumb across it for a few seconds, she paused and pulled her lips away from his, looking down at his crotch.

“Wh-what?” he asked, breathing hard. “What is it?”

Millie sat still except to pull her red hair behind her ear as she continued to stare down toward his lap.

Eric looked down as well, then rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know. I have purple underwear. It’s weird.”

“Not that,” she said, with a slight head shake. “You’re long.”

“Huh?”

“Longer than that guy,” she added, nodding aside at the television but still maintaining her sights on his exposed shaft. She repeated, “Very long.”

Eric grinned crookedly. He heard something similar from Yana on several occasions, except when she said it, her sentiment was filled with awe and voracious hunger. She looked like she had just struck oil. Millie was much more clinical in her voice and expression.

“Not as thick, though,” she noted.

His head rolled back as he sighed. Fortunately, whatever momentum was lost during that lapse was quickly recovered as Millie pushed his underwear down and took up his full length in her soft hand. The two of them resumed caressing their lips and tongues together as she stroked him with a surprisingly assured hand.

Eric felt a bold surge within. While his mouth moved from her lips to her ear and neck, his hand shifted from fondling her bottom to pulling down the back zipper of her skirt. When he slipped his hand under and swept it around her smooth bottom and along her tight crack, he realized Millie wasn’t wearing any panties. He wondered if that had always been the case.

Still sliding her hand up and down his hardening length, Millie eased back. She gazed at Eric with her cat-like eyes, a pink blush blooming on her cheeks and her plush lips moist and parted, a steady, soft breath drifting past them.

His heart just melted into a puddle as he looked at her. Like a quenching lake in the hot summer, he had never seen anything so pristine and pure and inviting.

“I want to shaft my throat with your cock and suck you dry,” Millie breathed.

Eric's face froze. “Uh… what?” he asked.

“Fuck my face with your hot man meat,” she added.

Despite the abrasiveness of her words, Millie still had the most incongruous, placid expression on her face. It was the equivalent of a grunge metal music concert in a Zen garden.

“Wh-why are you talking like that?” Eric asked.

“That’s what they say,” she replied, shrugging and looking toward the television.  

“You mean the movie?” he said, frowning. “You don’t have to -- OW!”

A sharp discomfort shot up from Eric’s pelvis as Millie suddenly and unexpectedly reached across to the other side of the sofa to retrieve the television remote, unfortunately forgetting to release her vice grip around him. His stiff shaft was wrenched, and he nearly flipped over.

“Unn! Millie! Wait! Ow!” he begged, wincing. Yet Millie continued to handle it like a gear stick as she pointed the remote at the television and scanned through the different scenes.  

Eric sighed wearily, “Millie…”

“I just wanted to see how they did that again,” she said.

“Millie,” he repeated as he reached forward and took the remote from her, “can we turn off the television?”

Her lips curled crookedly once the screen went blank. She regarded Eric with a curious gaze.

“We don't have to do whatever it is they're doing in the movie,” he explained. He chuckled. “In fact, I think some of it wouldn't be medically advisable.”

Millie frowned. “No?”

Eric smiled and sighed, “No.”

“So I shouldn't take off my clothes?”

His mouth flopped open. “Uh… no… that's not what…”

Millie stood up in front of him. Her skirt, already unzipped, silently slipped down past her hips and legs to her ankles. “Because that's what they did in the movie,” she concluded.

Slumped down on the sofa, pants down, and his shaft suddenly experiencing a renewed vigor, Eric took in the sight before him, mouth still agape.

“Uh… yeah they did, didn’t they?” he conceded.

Millie, with a pleasing trim bush of red hair framed by milky thighs, stepped forward out of her skirt. Eric had to ease his knees apart as she stood between his feet.

She still wore her oversized sweater, falling over her shoulder on one side, and a pair of white ankle socks. She daintily curled a lock of her hair behind her ear, then stood there with her hands behind her back, fixing him with a tempting gaze.

Eric was dumbfounded. It was as if the walls of the tiny, musty apartment had faded away and he was now in some tranquil meadow faced with a feverish vision of his most idyllic desires, a burst of sunlight casting a golden halo around Millie. This was just perfect. Perfect.

After a moment, Millie sighed. She appeared impatient.

Suddenly aware that he had been daydreaming, Eric said, “Ah… sorry.”

Millie remained standing, almost motionless save for a barely discernible to-and-fro twist of her hips.

Eric caught an unexpected snigger sneaking up his throat.  He looked down and nodded, knowingly, cracking a slanted grin on his lips. He remembered that Millie liked to watch.

A welcome resolve settled within him. He moved forward on the sofa. Looking up at her, he reached around and caressed his hands up the back of her legs starting from her calves. He took his time, relishing her smooth skin with feathery touches of his fingers. He saw her lips part slightly as he moved past her thighs, the tip of her tongue peeking out to wet the inner edge of her mouth.

He tilted his head down, bringing the neat triangle of her curly red hairs into view. His hands melded around the flesh of her soft bottom and held her as he eased his face forward, his tongue sliding out, leading the way.  

For the first few seconds, after his tongue had teased their way through the hair and began to lightly flick at the soft line along Millie’s lips beneath, his efforts were met with a deafening silence from above his head. Then, as he nuzzled in closer, opening his mouth wider, engaging her with long strokes of his tongue from top to bottom, he heard a whispery breath escape her, followed by a trembling sigh.

Long fingers gingerly teased at his hair as he continued his slow and deliberate sampling. He raised his eyes. Millie was staring back down at him, holding up a curled finger against her lower lip. The look in her luminous green eyes as she silently observed him still barely gave any hint of what was going on in her head. All Eric knew was that she definitely wasn’t doing anything to tell him she wasn’t pleased.

The idea that she was letting him lead seemed to spark an unexpected jolt through him. He continued with the deliberately drawn out pace, savouring every long lick, every firm suck of his lips on her buds. Millie’s intensifying, yet soft breaths were a welcome salve to the caustic, overdone moans and grunts of the porn film which had been abusing his ears moments before. He felt her hips slowly sway with the rhythm of his pleasuring, rolling her pelvis along with the cadence of his mouth.

He held his hand up and her fingers intertwined with his, clutching together. An audible gulp trilled from her throat chased by a clear, unabated gasp. Wetness splashed onto his tongue and his lips and chin followed by more quivering sighs past Millie’s parted lips.

The exquisite sound and taste sent a charge through Eric, spurring a spiked throb below. As he continued to drag his tongue languidly through her moistened petals, he clutched at his erect length, easing the pulse within with firm stroke of his hand.

It seemed that Millie took notice. She rolled down to her knees in front of Eric.

With her help, he dispatched his pants and underwear.  While she unbuttoned his shirt, Eric raised her face by the chin and the two met with a deep, lip-melding kiss. A moment later, as he continued to run his hands through her long, silky hair --the cinnamon strands hypnotically melting through his fingers-- he enjoyed the caress of her lips on his chest down to his belly.

Following the pace he set, Millie took her time. There was nothing flagrant or exaggerated in her actions. She pecked at his smooth, bare chest with her soft lips and dabbed the tip of her tongue at his nipples, tracing it down slowly to his stomach as if on a journey of taste and touch. Almost the entire time she did so, her eyes were looking up at him. For his part, Eric couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

His hands still in her hair, he eased her down further, her mouth moving just below his belly button till her chin then bottom lip nudged against his tip. Once again, she took him up, but to his relief, with a more delicate touch.  

Eric felt his abdomen tightening as he shifted in the spongy cushions of the old sofa, his hips sliding further to the edge of the seat. He watched as Millie’s hand moved up and down his length, thumbing the tip as it reached the top before sliding steadily to his base.  Her tongue slipped out and she quickly glossed her lips before sinking them over him.

When he felt her warm, wet mouth finally encircle him, Eric’s head drifted back as he momentarily took his eyes off of her, closing them as he loosed a satisfying gasp of air. When he opened his eyes and looked down again, Millie was already stroking him with a rhythmic pump of her lips. She lifted her chin slightly each time she came up, dragging his tip along her palate. And as she went down, her tongue curled around him heightening the pleasurable effect.

She pulled off of him for a moment, letting her glossy tongue hang out as she dragged it up and down his rippling shaft. Sha raised his length up as she dipped lower and folded her mouth over his sack, massaging it with her tongue. Eric dug his fingers into the sofa as he watched.

For the next few minutes, the two of them continued in wordless, drawn-out engagement. The pressure Millie applied within her mouth was near perfect, eliciting hums of approval from Eric. He felt no urgent or twisting swells from within like they were in some deranged rush to reach the end of a frenzied race. No, this was a moment to savour for as long as possible.

That moment ended as soon as Millie pulled off him with a husky, wheezing gasp. Her eyes looked almost dreamy as she gazed up at him, breathing hard through her rounded mouth, tongue out and dripping with saliva.  Her hand noticeably tightened around him as well, pumping her fist with faster strokes, painting his length with her spit.

Eric barely avoided losing it right then and there, almost swearing as a dizzying wave filled his gut and head. It was like going zero to sixty miles per hour in a second and braking just in time before slamming into a wall. The car may be undamaged, but more than likely your head bounced off the wheel.

Millie, apparently, wasn’t going to allow him to take the foot off the gas, though. She momentarily released him to pull her sweater off -- turns out she wasn’t wearing a bra, either.  It looked like the ankle socks were going to remain, but Eric didn’t seem to notice. Seeing the rest of her creamy, freckle dusted body was more than enough. Her palm and fingers quickly rolling around his hard length again helped quite a bit, too.

While she resumed stroking him within her fist, Eric pulled her up again and once more they locked their mouths and entwined their tongues together. As she knelt up and, leaned forward above his lap, he felt his hot, slippery tip nudge the smooth skin along Millie’s belly.  Both of them gasped warm breaths into the other’s mouth as they kissed with a burgeoning hunger.

As another few minutes more passed while they continued in the same position, Eric began to wonder if Millie was still continuing to expect him to lead the way.  

“What’s next?” she asked during a brief moment their lips parted.

Well, that answered that.

Their foreheads touching, his fingers fondling her pert nipples, Eric looked into her eyes. Those brilliant jade orbs were fixed on him, so intimidating in their unwavering resolve to just screw with his head.

This is where he would usually back down and cringe in his mental corner when he was with Yana.  

“Get on my lap,” he said with a confident voice. He barely recognized it as his own.  

Without a word or pause, Millie got to her feet.  As he settled back against the sofa, she joined him, kneeling with her legs spread over his lap.  He guided her with his hands on her hips. His fully hardened length positioned perfectly below her, he eased her down as she wrapped her hands behind his neck. The tip of his shaft nuzzled past her hairs and prodded apart her lips.

Millie closed her eyes and held her breath.

Eric paused, holding her body firmly. “Millie,” he called to her. The moment she opened her eyes, he settled her onto his stiff length, rolling his pelvis up, filling her with a deliberate thrust.

Her eyelids fluttered as did her lips as a tender moan seeped through her lips. It was sensuous music to Eric’s ears, and he joined her with his own extended groan.

Maintaining the easy rhythm that he established from the beginning, their bodies rose and fell in sumptuous unison. In and out, he moved within her with long, steady strokes feeling her damp, tender warmth along every inch of his throbbing piece.  

As their bodies coiled and stretched upon one another, Millie pulled him close to her chest and he took advantage of the position, inhaling her pert pink nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirled along her flesh, and he could feel the quiver of her delicate skin against his tip.  Switching back and forth between her sloping breasts, he was rewarded with swells of heavy breaths and gasps.

She leaned down, clasping his face.and they kissed as she continued to ride upon him. Her flame-red hair draped down covering both their faces concealing the selfish samplings of their lips, mouths, and tongues.  

“Eric,” she gasped into his ear as she swayed her crotch against his.

“Millie,” he answered.

“Uhn, baby... drill my tight fuck ho--”

“No,” Eric interrupted immediately, tensing.

She began to point back at the television. “But…-”

“No,” he urged, looking at her as if warning a kid not to touch a lit candle. Then, to smother any further possible expletives escaping her pretty mouth, he planted his own firmly over it and plunged his tongue deep inside.  

Crisis averted, Eric turned and eased her down. With her back lying on the sofa, he moved over her, the full weight of his hips spreading her legs apart. His glutes clenched and relaxed as he thrust into her with quickening snaps of his crotch, each time driving her knees higher and higher while she braced her thighs against his body. He felt her hands clutch at his butt cheeks, pressing them each time he surged into her.

His mouth captured her every groan and sigh while their tongues circled endlessly.  All the while, her slender eyes remained open, looking up at him with a cool desire. His own gaze never relented, either, fully taking in the sensuousness behind the shimmering green mirrors.

As his thrusts became more fervent and erratic, Eric knew he was peaking fast. Totally succumbing and lost to the delirious sensation coursing through him, he was momentarily left wondering how and when his arm managed to slip behind one of Millie’s knees, pressing it up with her sock-covered toes pointing in the air. She had one hand still clutching at his butt, the other was behind his head, fingers knotted through his damp black hair.  They must have looked like a hot, sexual mess.

“Mmm… ahhn,” Millie moaned into his mouth as they continued to suck and lash at one another’s mouths and lips.

Eric held her tight, driving into her with stiff strokes, shaking her soft body beneath him. He felt her clench on his shaft, gripping him harder with every thrust. He raised his head back. He plowed his hips forward, reaching into the reserves of his core to deliver long, plunging drives of his throbbing shaft.

Millie gazed up at him, fixated and silent aside from her heavy breaths and groans that squeaked from her throat. An alluring pink blush covered her fair cheeks and around her neck and shoulders. Her glossy lips trembled as she gasped softly, “Eric… “

That did it. Looking into her green eyes Eric suddenly stiffened, his whole body seizing.  His arms locked as his fingers dug into the cushions of the sofa. Grinding out one final, stiff thrust forward, he came, shooting hard deep within Millie.  

Whether she was startled by his intensity or had been on the brink herself, she also came fast, chasing the wetness that spilled forth from her with a languid groan.  Her green eyes rolled up and she held onto his forearms as her body twisted seductively beneath him. Her soft, damp thighs clenched against his hips with each spurt.

Eric felt her shudder against him, the sensation drawing more shots of cum from his twitching shaft buried deep inside of her.  He felt both of their mingling fluids dripping around his sack.

A cold fire burned through his veins. A thousand pins pricked at his taxed muscles. Eric suddenly felt weak, satisfying exhaustion blanketing him, weighing him down.  He lowered himself down into surprisingly welcoming, gentle arms. As she traced her fingers up and down his sweaty back and through his damp hair, they kissed.

As they continued to kiss softly and caress their warm skin for a few minutes, Eric finally relaxed, feeling safe in the realization that Millie wasn’t suddenly going to ask to start watching more episode of Fresh Prince.

---oo---

A few days later…

“No, I’m not going to move out. Why should I move out?” Eric spoke on the phone as he walked along the sidewalk towards his apartment. “She wasn’t doing anything wrong. She was just watching television. It was just a bit loud. It doesn’t bother me.”

His parents had him on their speakerphone, double-teaming him.

“It’s not a ‘house of sodomy’, mom,” he sighed, rubbing his forehead. “It’s not even a house.”

He stopped at the street front door and listened for a moment.  He rolled his eyes. “No, she’s not. There’s nothing ‘sneaky’ about Millie… Yeah, that’s her name... I know it because she’s my neighbour, not because we’re up to anything.”

By now, Eric realized little lies were going to have to be employed if he was going to maintain any semblance of peace with Mother and Father. Oh, how he had grown up.

“Look, I’ve gotta go,” he concluded. “I’ll call you later.”

Pocketing his phone, he finally noticed the little grin he sported on his lips. It widened as he opened the door and went upstairs with a quick jaunt in his legs. He savoured the thought of seeing Millie again, not at all hesitant, not at all uncomfortable despite her unpredictability. Also, he brimmed with confidence and pride in the idea that he may have actually solved his hesitancy when it came to women. It was a huge weight off his shoulders and he finally felt like he was in control of his life.  

He stopped at his apartment door, deciding to chuck his school bag before dropping by 702B for a visit.  As he inserted the key, though, he paused when he heard a laugh coming from down the hall. He frowned as he turned his head. First of all, he’d never heard Millie laugh out loud and secondly, the voice, though feminine, was deep and hearty...  and familiar.

Narrowing his eyes as tried to place it, he was suddenly interrupted by Millie who appeared at her door.

“Eric,” she said.

“Hey, Millie,” he said, releasing the breath that he had been retaining, “Are you… do you have a guest?”

She beckoned him with outstretched fingers.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, “I was just going to put my bag away and…”

Her slender brow cocked upward, and she curled her fingers at him again.  

Eric sighed. With Millie, it was always now or never. He cinched his bag on his shoulder then quickly went over.

As he turned and stepped past Millie as she stood by the door, he came to a sudden stop as if his sneakers had landed in a puddle of super glue. As he stared ahead at Millie’s guest occupying the sofa, the weight of an anvil dropped his jaw.  

“Yana,” he said.

“Hullo, Eric,”  the blonde bombshell replied, grinning as she leisurely bounced her long muscular leg over her knee.

Gawking, he could barely spit out a complete syllable. “Whu-... whu-... whu-...”

Yana laughed and sighed. She reached into her purse. “I bring you back this,” she quipped.

Eric’s left eye twitched. His right eye focused on the pair of purple men’s underpants she dangled between her long fingernails.  

“You came here to return those to me?”  

She nodded, a wickedly sharp smile splitting her crimson lips.

“You couldn’t have just…” Eric paused and shrugged, “... left them in the mail slot or something?”

She smirked. “What if the mailman took them?”

Millie closed the door behind him and locked it. She walked by and joined Yana seated on the sofa.  “She was knocking on your door,” she said.

“Uh-huh,” Eric replied, skeptically.

“I came out to see who it was.”

“Okay.”

“And I asked her if she wanted to come over and watch a movie.”

Eric closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. It appeared Millie habitually missed a few steps when it came to introductions with strangers. Suddenly, he opened his eyes wide and asked, “Wait a minute… what movie were you watching?”

Millie raised the remote and pressed ‘Play’.

“Oh! Oh fuck, baby! Suck my clit! Yeah! Fuck me! Ohh, suck me like that! So hard! Oh, fuck!”

Eric looked at the television and, immediately, his jaw locked and teeth clenched. A menage a trois unfolded on the little screen… actually, it was pretty much a threeway fuck-fest. Calling it by French “nom de plume” was like trying to shine up a bucket of mud. Two women and a man were hurriedly stuffing every sweaty orifice with any available, spit-covered appendage as if they were plugging leaks in a Dutch dam, all the while cursing to every blushing god in heaven and hell.

“Ye-ehs! Fuck my hole! Yeah! God! Uh! Uh! Uh! Oo-ooh!  Suck my cock, bitch! Christ! Oh, shit!”

“Eric,” a soft, steady voice called to him.

He closed his eyes and turned his head. When he opened them, he saw Millie and Yana seated side by side on the sofa. The red-head looked at him like a passing cloud while the blonde angled her lips and glared at him as if he were raw meat and she was a tiger on the prowl.

Millie continued as she pointed at the television, “... do you… “

Eric swallowed.

“...want to try that?”

An all too familiar hollowed out pit opened his stomach. He should have turned and ran. Instead, he took one step forward.

“Eric... ” Millie said. Both women looked down at his feet.  

He followed their line of sight and sighed.

Right.

Shoes.