Center of Attention

As Katie took the last stair onto her floor, it became apparent that the sounds of laughter and hum of conversation were coming from her own apartment.

She paused for a moment, breathed in deeply, and exhaled what sounded like an epic sigh. Pushing her hair out of her face, she licked her lips and headed down the hall.

No need to use the key; it was already unlocked. No need to knock; she lived there.

But who the hell were all these people? And where the hell was Peter?

She scanned the crowd and balanced her briefcase, purse, keys, and stack of mail in a right-armed embrace as she kicked her heel back to shut the door behind her.

There was nowhere to drop her things. Too many people taking up too many of her personal surfaces.

Calling out for him wouldn’t do much good amidst the cacophony of voices and clinking glassware (good lord, was that the good crystal?). Pushing her way through the bodies (this many guests had to be against fire code or something), Katie made her way to the bedroom, hoping to find a bit of space and privacy so she could change out of her work things (especially those infernal shoes).

Peter was stretched out on the bed, still wearing his dress slacks and white shirt, untucked and wrinkled from the day’s wear. Another mental tick-mark:  his shoes were on the bed.

Katie opened her mouth to release a long list of complaints, but Peter put his finger to his pursed lips to quiet her. She furrowed her brow in disbelief.

“You want me to be quiet? What about all those people out there? Who the hell are they, and why the hell are they here? Why didn’t you warn me?”

Peter, let his finger slip down the side of his chin as he rolled his eyes and sighed audibly. Katie could be such a tyrant about their space.  Never wanted company. Never wanted to open up their 500 square foot, over-priced “suite” in an upscale neighborhood that neither of them had any idea how to fit into.  It was like an ill-fitting suit that hung in all the wrong places and pulled in all the right ones.

“Katie, can we not do this now? I wanted to have a few people over after work for some beers, and somehow the invite spread through the halls at work like fire, and now there’s a fuckload of people out there I don’t even know. They even brought their own food. Who does that here?”

He looked like a defeated puppy, and Katie could tell he wasn’t lying.

She rolled her eyes and offered up a resigned sigh, as she slipped out of her shoes and  plopped on the bed next to him. Peter put his arm around her, and she could smell the musk of his sweat working past the barrier of his deodorant. She closed her eyes and sunk into him, inhaling him, and exhaling her anger. He could do that…make her forget herself…forget her emotions. Just his scent was enough, most of the time…unless she was really pissed off. But right now, she was just tired.

“So are you in here hiding?” Katie inquired.

“What? Do you think I’m that crappy of a host?”

She grinned and looked up at him, “Yes.”

He feigned annoyance, but couldn’t help smiling.

“Mind if I hide out in here with you?” she said.

“Not at all. But what are we going to do about them?” He nodded toward the bedroom door.

“Maybe they’ll go away when they realize you’re not there.”

“Kat, half of them don’t even know who’s apartment they’re in.”

“Well, maybe they’ll get bored and find somewhere else to hang out.”


She slipped her hand under the tails of his shirt, running her fingers up his abdomen, through the hair on his chest, absent-mindedly teasing his nipples.

“Why the hell do men have these, anyway?”

“Nice segue. Why do you have them? Oh wait…I know…”

Peter rolled over on top of Katie, straddling her to hold her in place. He unbuttoned her blouse, pushed her bra up over her tits, and leaned down to take one in between his teeth, wrapping his lips around it, and sucking gently.

“That’s why…”

Katie giggled and tried to push Peter off of her.

“Come on…there are a ton of people out there….”

“Yes…people we don’t know.  And this is our fucking place…”

“Oh…Peter!  You don’t honestly think we should have sex with all these people here?” Katie’s eyes widened in mock-horror.

“Me-thinks the lady doth protest too much….You know it’s always been a fantasy of mine to fuck you in public – but this is better – we can fuck in our own bed and the public will come to us…”

“You have got to be kidding me! I am not having sex in here with our apartment full of people.”

“You’re right…you’re going to do it out there.”

Katie’s mouth dropped open, “Peter! Fuck no, I’m not!”

“Yes. Yes you are. And you know how I know that?”

“How?” Her defiant pout and crossed arms belied her intrigue.

“Because I’m asking you to. And you always do what I ask.” His face became serious momentarily, his eyes locking on hers. Just as quickly, his expression relaxed and he added, “Besides, you always said you had a fantasy about being watched.”

“That’s a fantasy, Peter…I never intended…” His lips enveloped hers to quiet her protests.

“Don’t move…”

Peter slid off the bed and opened the bedroom door. On his way back to the bed, he began unbuttoning his shirt. He let it drop to the floor, unbuckled his pants, unbuttoned and unzipped, and let those, too, drop. Standing there in nothing but his briefs, he smiled down at her.

“Come on, Katie…live a little…”

Katie bit her lip in discomfort and nervousness.

Slowly, she sat up, rose to her knees, and crawled across the bed to him. Opening her arms to him, he fell onto her, pushing himself between her thighs, her skirt lifting to expose a bare and wet pussy.

Katie looked over Peter’s shoulder and caught the eye of a man sitting on their living room couch. He waved…and she gave him an unmistakable thumbs-up.

This has been a Wicked Wednesday post!  Happy 1 year anniversary, Marie!  Thanks for all the inspiration and for providing the outlet for so many peoples’creativity.


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