MR. SENSITIVE (standard:other, 2860 words)
Author: Lewis	Added: Jun 25 2003	Views/Reads: 3304/2190	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A sleazy kind of guy, who has no real luck with the ladies (due to his lack of insight and charisma I'm sure), finally gets lucky with a girl. He gets more than he expected - A lot more...

MR SENSITIVE 

I was only here for the fuck. I met her at the club, the same club I'd
been going to for years, and not once had I pulled. Sure, I'd cramped 
all my friends style, much to my delight, even got a slap or three for 
my lude suggestions. But God forbid any of the stuck up bitches who 
inhabited my local club would want a bit of rough like me.....Well that 
would be ludicrous, wouldn't it? Until now. 

I'd used the same approach: 

“Would you like a drink?” - Of course they would. Fucking bitches 

They'll take your drink, but won't give anything back. You can liquor up
a bitch all night, and they're always sober enough to say “NO”....... 

So it was some surprise when we got talking that she seemed genuinely
interested in my job working for a publishing firm. It was quite a 
boring job, but it was the ultimate test to see if a woman was 
interested or not - The boring job. Just a glorified secretary really. 
But she was interested. A few women had been in the past, fucking 
whores who had writing they wanted in print. Wouldn't even sleep with 
me to get it in print. It will have been shite anyway..... I asked: 

“Do you write” 

She had giggled, girlishly, and said: 

“If I was only that clever...” 

She wasn't trying to take advantage of me - I was the only one trying to
take advantage....... We talked for a while, over the loud infernal 
pounding of the nightclub noise, until it became a ridiculous 
situation. She suggested we go back to her place so we could continue 
the conversation in more reasonable surroundings. I agreed. When we got 
out onto the street, I saw that she was a very bright blonde, but not a 
peroxide blonde - I'd been around enough fake sluts to know my peroxide 
blondes. The nightclub was so dingy, I had thought she was a mousy 
brown. But she was blonde, quite brightly blonde. We got to her flat 
and now we are here. 

*** 

As I said, I'm only here for the fuck: 

“Nice place you've got here” 

“It's not bad, I suppose. I must confess that I wouldn't mind moving
though” “Really......” 

I trailed off from the small talk as I looked at her furniture. Sure, I
instigated the small talk, but that makes them feel more comfortable. 
Don't want them thinking I'm a creep or something. Furniture's good. 
Could do with some of this in the office...... 

“......so I just think it might be better to move on. Leave it all
behind.” 

“Well, it sounds a sensible option.” You learn how to do that from
office phone calls. Make it seem like you are listening, when you're 
not. It is a skill handy in the business. 

“Would you like a drink?” 

“Coffee, thanks.” No alcohol. Had enough already. Want to be able to get
it up. Tonight is THE night. 

“Have a seat, and I'll go make a pot, then.” Off she goes. 

God this woman was insecure. She had bars on the windows, and only now
do I recall how long it took her to disable all the locks she had on 
her front door. No doubt she has an alarm system as well, which has 
escaped my attention. What was she saying earlier about wanting to 
Leave it all behind.......? 



Click here to read the rest of this story (382 more lines)