1 comments/ 22858 views/ 0 favorites Strangers in the Dark By: Reaper8436247 Despite having worked late, yet again, the Tube was still packed by the time I left the office, but the crowd was different from what I was used to in my daily commute. Sure there were still a few young go-getters, just like me, tired and dishevelled from a long day in the office, but mixed in were a good mix of party-goers, starting early to get even more fun into their long night. There were middle-aged pleasure seekers, teenagers with fake IDs and too much make-up and even a gay couple trying to be discreet and avoiding the skinhead hanging from the rails. I was being forced into the corner of the carriage by the sheer weight of numbers, squashed into the door along with my battered leather briefcase, luckily I still had enough space to stretch my legs and the small window seat gave me somewhere to put the case. All that was about to change though. The train came to a rough stop, throwing the inexperienced about like sand in a drum. Looking through the dirty window I sighed to myself, the platform was almost as crowded as the train and it was more than likely that fewer people would be getting off than on at this station. There was a mad crush as the people in the carriage shuffled amongst themselves, those trying to get off swapping with those trying to get one of the newly freed seats. Nne moved my way however, they were more concerned with getting to the larger doors further down, closer to the station's exit. "Excuse me!" She cried from behind me and I turned to see the young girl, all done up for a night out in a short skirt and tight top that barely covered anything, pointing at my briefcase. "Oh, sorry..." I mumbled as I moved the briefcase out of her way. Taking me completely by surprise, she vaulted up onto the small seat, swinging her leg passed my face and settling herself in front of me. A smile swam across her mouth as the door closed with a hiss of pneumatics. She looked away from me, glancing over the crowd, and I watched the station as it moved away to be replaced with the darkness of the tunnel, grimly aware that my briefcase was now pressing uncomfortably into my leg and that my free space was now completely lost. I surreptitiously examined my companion's reflection in the glass, my eyes wandering across her full lips, blushed cheeks and darkened eyes, taking in her features as the mysterious pipes and unassuming tunnel walls rushed over them. The train was still picking up speed and she leaned back against the wall, her small yet well-formed breasts heaving, as she tried to keep her balance. A tightness in my trousers brought to my attention the fact that I was definitely becoming aroused by this young treat and I quickly withdrew my gaze from her body's image in the darkness and instead perused the jagged lines defining the London Underground and the blobs representing its multifarious stations. The train finished its acceleration and the sudden change in momentum caused the girl to slide off her roost, forcing her pelvis into my already awakened cock. The result was immediate, as you'd expect, and all I could do was squirm inside my shirt as the sweat began to trickle down my back. In the corner of my eye I caught a movement that drew my attention back to the young girl. Looking down without lowering my head I saw her staring at my groin, the swelling clearly defined by the tight material, and a mischievous grin lay on her face like a predator. Her eyes flashed at mine, locking me with her look as she licked her lips. She reached down and undid my fly with such deft skill that I was certain she'd practiced the manoeuvre so often that it was almost second nature. As she reached inside my trousers and started playing around with my boxers I coughed loudly, pulling my briefcase up and bracing it between us and the rest of the carriage, blocking off any voyeurs that may have been watching. By the time I'd managed to get the case into position, she'd already locked onto my dick with her eager fingers and was gently massaging. Her other hand was beginning to squeeze her breast through her top, her nipple beginning to poke through the taut fabric. Her legs moved up my back, hooking together around my waist, I could clearly see up her skirt now and was unsurprised to see her cleanly shaven vagina completely uncovered in front of me. Also unsurprising was the traces of moisture gathering on the lips. Gripping me firmly yet gently, she freed my cock from its textile prison and pulled me towards her. In all this time, her eyes had been locked with mine, but now she looked down, stifling a low moan as she slid herself down onto my rigid, precum dripping cock. At first I just slid over her hole, causing her to bite her lower lip as my head rubbed against her swollen clit, but on the third attempt I popped into her tight little pussy with an almost audible noise. And what a tight pussy it was, for all the skill she had shown with her handling so far, it seems she wasn't as experienced as I'd presumed. As she sunk onto me, embracing me in the unyielding warmth deep inside her, the vibrations of the train as it continued through the tunnel only help to intensify the experience, but with one hand steadying my briefcase and the other gripping the rail, supporting both of us now. Her hands were also busy, one having moved under her top, rolling and tweaking her nipple as the other hand stroked her clit. She buried her head into my shoulder, her hair smothering my face for a second as she settled into place, filling my head with her crisp, clean scent. Soon she began to moan against my arm, as she gently pushed herself off my pelvis with slow, graceful movements of her knees, riding my rod carefully finding her own pleasure from the motions. There was nothing I could do but stand there and enjoy the experience as this fine young woman ground herself against me. I could feel her contracting on my cock as her moans became more profound and affirmative; she began to increase the pace of her thrusts, driving harder and deeper and it didn't take a genius to tell that she was getting close to an orgasm. However at the time my own feelings were overwhelming me and commonsense had very little to do with my decision-making. With my hands otherwise engaged the only part of my body I could use was my head, so I leaned forwards and began sucking hard on her neck. If all I could do was to give her a love bite, then it would be a monster of a one! I was definitely doing something right, as her moans became even more insistent. She gave up on her nipple and swung her arm around my shoulder, gripping onto my neck as she bit into my cheap work suit. She threw back her head, biting her lower lip so hard that for a moment the fear of her bleeding all over me broke through the passions building inside, but only for a moment before my own orgasm overcame me and I felt my juices bursting forth within her. Collapsing over me, her young body spent and only held up by her loose grip on my collar, she was breathing heavily into my armpit by now as my spent member slipped from her soiled hole. The stains on my clothes would have to be explained to my flatmates, but they were definitely worth it. As we became aware of our surroundings again, the train was coming to a stop. The girl slipped from my arms, brushed down her clothes and reached for a tiny purse that I hadn't even seen until now. Pulling out a hankie, she dabbed between her legs, wiping away as much of the juices as she could before dropping the rag on the floor to be crushed underfoot by the crowds. She didn't raise her head once and kept staring at the floor. As soon as the door slid open she was off like a rabbit from a trap, I don't even know if she knew which station it was. I had the wherewithal to pull my case in front of myself, covering my manhood that still lay exposed to the air, rapidly dwindling even as the remnants of the experience leaked from the tip. I just hope my girlfriend will understand. Strangers in the Dark Wow, I finally did it, what I've been wanting to do for a long time. I didn't think it would ever be so problematic to find the right time and situation, but I did. And it was so cool. As readers of my other stories already know, my name's Kelly and I'm -- well, let's say I'm young enough to have voted for president for the first time last election (go Barack!). And I have two compulsions that make me popular with the boys. I can't seem to keep my clothes on for too long. And I can't keep my mouth off the sweetmeats. Why can't I get through a day without dick? It's like I have some kind of penis magnet lodged in the back of my throat. Anyway, I'm not going to call myself "hot," because that just conjures up old guys' fantasies about Pamela Anderson, and that's just gross. I hate having to describe how I look every time I write a story, so I'm going to quote my friend Miles who described me great in a previous story. This is what he said last year: "OK, Kelly is ungodly gorgeous. No bullshitting. Seriously, she's like some model in a magazine. She's very pretty. Kinda tall for a girl. Dark hair that's about shoulder length. Round face and really nice green eyes. Sort of like a mix between Demi Moore and that chick from "Amelie." Her body is goddam fabulous. Not big tits, but perky and really sweet. Perfect ass, like a peach. Long, really fine legs. When I first met her, she was wearing a miniskirt and man, she was raising the temperature in the room. I got a steady girlfriend now and I try to be good, but I still get hard when Kelly looks at me that way. Now, I just try to be close and help protect her from creeps and shitheads. When you're that gorgeous and that horny, you need a little protection sometimes." Isn't he a doll? I would totally suck his cock for that if he weren't still sticking with monogamy. His girlfriend is really cool, so I keep my hands off. Oh, well. So, back to my story. One of my fantasies has always been doing a "glory hole." True pervs will know what I'm talking about. A glory hole is literally a hole in the wall big enough for a guy to stick his Charlie in, and on the other side is a hot little mouth to, shall we say, take the swelling down. I've seen this kind of thing on the Web a few times and thought what a mind-blowing turn-on it would be to suck off some anonymous dude. And, Jesus, was it ever. I have never done a more trampy thing in my life, and I've done some pretty freaky, pervy stuff. So I did it, sucked off not one, but two total strangers -- true story -- and though this happened about three months ago, I still have no idea who they were. Just a couple of hours after the fact, I was walking downtown in the cute little college town where I live, and I would see a man here and there in a coffee shop or in the bookstore. And for all those who seemed to be a good mood, I couldn't help thinking, "Is that one of them? Is it his DNA cheese in my belly right now?" I tried to make subtle eye contact, to give a knowing smile. I fought the urge to sidle up beside some stranger just to say "Thanks for lunch," just to see how he would react. Of course, that's the whole point. Making sweet oral love to a nicely put together penis and having no idea who it is connected to is just fucking delicious. I can't wait to do it again. It wasn't easy. Most glory holes are located in skeezy porn shops pretty far away from where I live, and I had no interest in blowing junkies and street people. Couldn't we find some place in a nice suburban neighborhood close by with a bunch of healthy, clean-living college boys? For months, I assumed that answer was no. Then, I had a conversation with my girlfriend -- let's call her Dizzy -- and a few weeks later, she called and said she'd found something I might be interested in. Over coffee, Dizzy told me that she knew a guy who was willing to set up a nice little glory-hole arrangement at his house, just for me. "Are you kidding?" I said. "Do I get to check it out first?" "Well, if you want," she said. "But that would kind of ruin the whole idea, wouldn't it? Isn't it supposed to be weird, anonymous sex without any kind of preparation?" I got her point, still I hesitated. "Look," she said. "You can trust me, can't you? I promise you it will be nice and clean, no gas-station bathroom type of situation. And I won't tell you anything about the guys ..." "Guys? Plural?" "Well, there's a roommate too. Tough to leave him out. Anyway, I won't tell you anything about them, except that I'm pretty sure you've never met them before. And that they're both really nice, normal guys with impressive equipment. Believe me, I've done a test run on both of them." She smiled devilishly and that smile, more than anything, sold me. A couple of weeks later, I met Dizzy at her place. It was a nice Saturday afternoon. She told me everything was set. She gave me a legal-sized envelope. "This is the names of the guys at the house, just for your security. There's other information about them in there, including a print-out of a recent STD test for both of them." I took the envelope and gazed at it. But I wasn't even tempted. I handed it back to her. "I don't want to know anything. If you say it's all good, that's enough for me." With that, we made our plan. Dizzy suggested that I ride blindfolded, so I would have no clues about where I was going. The idea hadn't occurred to me, but it was just scary enough to be a turn-on. I agreed. As we were driving to my rendezvous with dick, my mind began to race. How well do I really know this chick?, I thought. Is she bringing me into some freaky slave situation? And if so, would that be so bad? We stopped after 20 minutes or so of driving. Dizzy escorted me out of the car, into a house, down a hallway or something, then positioned me in a chair. She took the blindfold off. It was a small room, 10-by-10 maybe. Carpeted, a chair, a desk with a computer, a couple of beanbags. Not bad. And yes, there was a hole in the wall at about groin level. I was really going to do this. "The guys have a request," said Dizzy. She pointed to a camera mounted on the wall. "They want to see you get naked. But that's up to you." "Why, Dizzy," I said in mock politeness. "I am a guest in this house. I would never refuse a request from my hosts. That would be rude." Within a minute, I was naked. I handed my clothes to Dizzy, she fished my cell phone out of my purse and put it on the desk. "I'll be right out on the deck here," she said. "Call me when you want to leave. Do you really want me to take your clothes?" I nodded, she left and I was alone, completely naked in a strange room being watched on a video camera by men I'd never laid eyes on. Kelly, one of these days, you're really going to get in trouble with this slutty behavior. For a minute, I didn't know what to do with myself. I bent over to peer into the glory hole. Nothing but blackness. I couldn't communicate with my watchers, so I didn't know what they wanted me to do, or for how long. So I turned my back to the camera, got down on my knees and assumed the doggy-style position that guys like so much with my face buried in the carpet and my ass high in the air. I heard the buzz of the camera's zoom and couldn't help but laugh. My little cooch and anus were getting a pretty thorough once-over, it seemed. This went on a bit too long and eventually, I turned around and sat up, playing with my titties a bit. Finally, I heard something on the other side of the wall, like a sliding door. Seconds later, out of the glory hole, came a gorgeous erection, slowly, like someone walking into a dark basement. I crawled like a lioness over to the hole and came face-to-face with my adversary. It was very nice, circumcised, surprisingly long. After the long build-up, I was ready for some sucking. At that moment, even if a fire had broken out or the cops had broken down the door, nothing was going to stop me from tasting this cock. I rubbed it on my cheeks and across my lips. I kissed it, like it was a little kitten. Then I ran my tongue from the base, slowly up the shaft to the pee hole. Then, it was in my mouth. Wow, this felt good. I put suction on it and allowed it to pop out of my mouth. I worked it a bit deeper every time down, letting my throat get used to it, then going a bit further. Finally, I was able to touch the wall with my nose. I don't think I've ever had a cock that deep in my throat before. Through it all, it was a surreal experience. There was no body to hold on to, no groaning, no cues at all that I was making him feel good. On the positive sign, there was no big hands grabbing my hair and pushing me deeper. I was in total control, and I loved it. I pulled off and let the wet cock just hang in the air for a few seconds, just to feel my power. But I couldn't resist for too long. I'm only human. Finally, I did hear a groan, but it was muffled and sounded very far away. I pulled off again and stood, positioning my ass toward the whole and guiding the cock into my pussy. I hopped up and down on it for a while, but fucking was not nearly as satisfying in this situation as sucking. When I'm getting fucked, I want him to do the work. I want to feel his hands on my pelvis and feel his thrust. This didn't quite feel right. So I jumped off again and put the little soldier back in my mouth. Without a guy attached, it was hard picking up on the cues that he was ready to cum. So, the ejaculation took me a bit by surprise. But I felt the warm semen fill up my mouth and I kept sucking till the little spasms stopped. I had the presence of mind to crawl over closer to the camera where I opened my mouth to show my prize, before gulping it all down. Man, that felt great, like taking a shot of tequila or something. I had almost forgotten about the other guy when I looked over the hole and saw another cock there. Apparently, Bachelor No. 2 wasn't interested in giving me a quick break. He was rarin' to go. To my delight, this one was different. First off, it was a black guy, which thrilled me greatly. It was no longer than the first guy's; both of them were pretty fuckin' well-hung. But it was thicker. I could feel my lips stretching just a bit more with this one as I started to work my way down the shaft. Pretty soon, I realized there was no way I was going to touch the wall with my nose on this guy. It was just a bit too thick to go beyond a certain point. But I enjoyed the hell out of it anyway. It tasted a bit different too. The first cock was soft, as if the guy regularly applied lotion or something. This guy had a more leathery feel. I heard that far-away moan a couple of times with this one, deeper and longer, plus I could feel a little vibration in his cock every time he moaned. God, I would marry this bastard on that alone. Whenever I swallow a big load of man seed, it gives me a bit of an adrenaline burst, so this second guy got me at full speed. I plunged him in my pussy for a while, again for a less-than-satisfying experience. But soon, I was pumping him hard with my hand, my gaping mouth waiting for the payload. When he came, it was like a big wet spitball on my cheek below my eye, though most of it landed on my tongue. It was hot and salty and I slurped it all down. When he withdrew, I collapsed on the floor in exhaustion. I imagined millions of little black spermies and white spermies swimming around in my stomach, from the cocks of men I had never laid eyes on. Holy shit, what a rush. Still, my pussy felt slighted. I was lying on the bean bag for a good while, expecting Dizzy to show, but she didn't. I pulled myself up and reached for the phone. No answer. Damn, Dizzy. So, I slipped out of the room, resisted the temptation to go into the other room to my left where my unknown lovers presumably were comparing notes, and walked down the hallway to my right, still stark naked. I stepped into the kitchen and saw Dizzy through the window on the deck. I went out in the sunshine naked, with a bellyful of cum, my two favorites states of being. I felt invincible. Dizzy smiled brightly, I sat with her and told her about my experience and how I wish I could fuck them now. Dizzy grabbed my hand, dragged me back into the room. She turned out the lights and told me to assume "the position." I stuck my ass in the air, waited for what seemed like 10 minutes. Then the door opened, and there in the dark, with the lights out, two somebodies fucked me silly. Big hands grabbing my ass, thighs slapping thighs, the whole works. When they left, as quietly as they arrived, I pulled myself up, completely exhausted and feeling that high you only feel after mind-blowing sex. When I turned on the light, a mystery that had crossed my mind was cleared up. They didn't come inside me and I didn't feel them shoot on my ass or anything. There on the desk was a wine glass, filled about a third of the way with fresh semen. Pretty cool little trick in the dark, I thought. I picked up the glass, liked the outside of it -- some of the spunk didn't quite make it inside -- raised it to the camera, and tipped it to my waiting mouth, feeling the contents slide like an oyster down my throat. Boy, I never get tired of that. Strangers in the Darkness Stuffy.... officious... prude! Lauren ran through the list of insults in her head. Her Vehement hatred blazed clearly in her eyes. Overpaid! She brushed brusquely past an office secretary, who made a slight sound of protest, which was stifled by Lauren's incredible rage. Lauren reached the elevators at long last and pounded the button for the bottom floor, which was, in fact, underground. The building was made on some soft dirt, or something, and all the entrances had been moved up a level, but the bar had remained underground, in true pub fashion. The elevator ride droned on for a longer time then Lauren would have liked, and it only served to further agitate her already foul mood. The Muzak was annoying, and the only other company she had in the elevator was a severely overweight, over perfumed, underwashed wheezing woman who was, at the moment, indulging in a twinkie. Lauren forced the boiling anger back down, and took a deep breath. After all ... it wasn't the elevator Muzak, or the woman who had pissed her off. No, that honor was left to the Corporate Bastards with whom she had to deal. Lauren drew the cover art of romance novels. A horribly controlled, underpaid job, which she really did hate, but did for the money. The art was all too similar, swoon torn bodice babe, and overmuscled superhunk, with no shirt. Lauren had taken the advice of a long time friend, and tried to make her work life somewhat more enjoyable by bringing in some new artwork, to make the book stand out from the others on the shelf. The response had been less then good, even though her sketches had been better then most of the crap she'd done over the last year. The general reply was that Lauren "obviously didn't understand the field" and she should "stick to what she knew." Lauren was an impatient woman, with a temper, this did not go over well. The author, for her part, had seemed interested, and had even tried, for a short time, to further ask Lauren if she was interested in following through with any of these sketches. However, the author was no match for the five members of the committee whose heads were so far stuck up each other's asses that there was no room for a shred of logic, or change to get through. The blunt stomping of both the works of the writer, and Lauren's own artistic vision had made her physically ill with rage. She had, at that point, with as much control as she could muster, told the committee exactly what they could do with themselves. After which, she bid the author a good day, gathered her portfolio, and stormed out of the room. Truth be known, she wasn't ever expecting to hear back from them, and strangely, she didn't care. Lauren caught a glimpse of her own eyes on the reflective surface of the elevator wall, and with much effort, forced herself to calm down. Her red hair looked like fire on her head, and her gray eyes were smoldering. She set her portfolio down on the floor, and leaned it against her legs, smoothing her T-shirt back out, and adjusting her jeans in place. She made a mental note to hit the punching bag when she got home. She wasn't a small girl, never had been, though she took pains to keep her figure at some state of well being. She didn't care if she was never a size 8, as long as she was in shape. The elevator stopped, and Lauren strode out, pushing the glass door of the bar aside without slowing. The bar was sparsely populated; one somewhat handsome man with dark hair, green eyes, and a well shaped figure was seated at the bar, with a blonde, overly made-up teenie bopper chattering incessantly in his ear. He was wearing a tailored suit that probably came from some French place Lauren couldn't pronounce. He smelled of money. Lauren shot him a look of sympathy as he glanced her way. There was a couple at one of the tables nuzzling drunkenly into each other's necks, and then the bartender. An older man, named John with a distinguished looking gray streak, and prominent cheekbones. John gave Lauren a nod as she sat down at the bar. The whole room was done in dark wood, stained a deep mahogany, with black marble surfacing, and stained glass accents. It had to have cost a fortune. "How are you today?" He asked, setting a basket of pretzels before Lauren had to ask. "Peachy" Lauren growled as a response, smiling wanly. "Can I have a Bud Light, please?" "Sure thing, Lauren." John said, easily. He was use to her moods. The dark haired suit glanced over, and looked Lauren up and down. Lauren looked back, and raised her eyebrow a bit. The man grinned roguishly, before the teenybopper noticed he wasn't looking at her anymore. She glared at Lauren and started to crawl over the man, he glanced skyward, and started to protest, when the earth came out from beneath Lauren. She was surprised at first, when she found herself off the barstool and on the floor. The ground was still for only another few seconds, just enough time for Lauren to hear the suit curse. "Shit, it's an earthquake." He murmured, pushing the blonde toward the door. "Get under the doorway." He ordered. She bore no protest, pushing over a chair on her way to the "safe" doorframe. The man held a hand down to Lauren. "Come on!" He ordered. "Get up." Lauren took his hand just as the real earthquake started. Her rescuer fell against the bar, and hauled Lauren to her feet. Lauren glanced up as she heard something scream above her. "The ceiling!" She screamed, pointing with her free hand. He looked up and his eyes went wide for a second. He glanced around frantically, as the ceiling started to fall, and threw Lauren bodily over the bar, following himself a moment after. "Get under the bar. It's Marble, maybe it'll hold!" He yelled, turning and throwing a box of plastic cups away from under the shelf, and shoving Lauren underneath it. Her head hit something metal, and stars broke out over her eyes. Darkness crept over her vision as the twisted screaming came to a terrible crescendo and the ceiling came down in a shower of dust, debris, metal, and glass. The air was stale, but Lauren was thankful to be breathing. She kept her eyes closed a moment longer, very glad to be awake, as she tested her limbs to see that she still had them all, and that nothing was broken. There was a cut over her eye, it was bleeding bad, but then, all headwounds did. It didn't feel serious outside of that. So she pressed her hand on it, and finally opened her eyes and saw... Nothing... The room was pitch black, not even a shred of light illuminated the small space around her. And above her own throbbing heart, and ragged breathing, she could hear nothing... Was she alone? Trapped? For the second time that day, Lauren felt ill. She indulged herself in a moment of silent tears, and finally got to her knees and started to feel around. The space was no larger then a walk in refrigerator on it's side, and, as far as Lauren could tell, no less cold. How long had she been out, that the cold had seeped in through the cracks of the building? She felt along the floor, and came across another hand. Her hero, the dark haired suit, it had to be. She shuddered for a moment. Was he dead? "Hello?" She asked, shakily. "Oh, God, don't be dead..." She followed his hand up, and found a piece of debris that had apparently fallen over him. It didn't seem to be holding anything up, so she pushed it off of him, and heard his breathing faintly. "Wake up." She urged, shaking him a bit. "Come on.... Wake up!" He took a long breath, inhaled some dust, coughed, and groaned. "Thank God..." She murmured. "Hey, can you hear me?" "Loud and clear..." He moaned. "I can't see anything... am I blind?" "No. There's no light." "Oh, well, that's good." He said. Lauren heard him shift around a bit. "Ouch! Shit... There's broken glass on the floor over here, be careful." "Um. Okay." Lauren heard herself say, most intelligently. "Are you all right?" He asked, sitting up beside her, and touching her arm to see where she was. "Fine, I think. I have a headache, maybe a concussion, but nothing worse." Lauren said, looking to where she thought he was. "You?" "Oh me? I'm just peachy." He said with a grin in his voice. "So, we're both relatively unscathed. It's a miracle." "I'd have to agree. I'm pretty glad to be alive at the moment. Thank you." "Welcome." He said, patting her hand reassuringly. "So... now what?" Lauren asked, looking around, as if she could actually see through the darkness. "Well, The way I see it, we should stay here for now. There is air, no matter how much, or how little, and we seem to be in a pretty stable pocket, so, I don't see a reason to move. Besides, the longer we stay here, the stronger chance we have that they'll find us." "They? Whose they?" Lauren asked, glancing in his direction. "You know. Firemen, rescue people. They comb in patterns. As long as we don't stay ahead of their patterns, they'll find us, and if we don't move, then we stand a better chance to be stumbled upon." "That makes sense..." Lauren admitted, sitting back against a piece of debris. She sighed a bit. "My clothes are ruined." He laughed loudly, and Lauren jumped, the sound was echoed in the small tight quarters. "Don't even start that! You sound like Candi!" He said, still laughing. "Candi - you mean the blondeheaded Jailbait?" "Ah, so you noticed her." He observed, she listened to him crawl around a moment. "It was hard not too." Lauren commented, wryly. "Speaking on names... What's yours?" "Lauren Styles, and you are?" "Matthew Coldwell." "Nice to meet you Matthew." "Charmed, I'm sure." Matthew said back, she could hear the continued smile in his voice. "What a lovely first date, don't you think?" "How can you be so calm?" "It's more like shock. Not calm." He said, after a moment of thought. Lauren, satisfied in the response, nodded. He left her side, feeling deeper into the darkness. "Where are you going?" Lauren asked, the fear accidentally creeping back into her voice. "Don't worry... I can't go far. I'm just looking for useful things..." He said soothingly. "Calm down some, okay? Tell me about yourself." "Okay..." Lauren said, her voice shaking. She forced herself to take a breath, and shivered some. Talking to the dismembered voice was like talking to herself. She wondered if the darkness was driving her crazy. "Lauren." Matthew said sternly. "Don't you flip on me now." Lauren nodded though he didn't see it, forcing several deep breaths into her system, and finally gathered up the will to talk at length. "I'm an artist. I work on the covers of romance novels... or well, I did, until I told the committee to blow it out their collective asses." Lauren started. Matthew laughed softly. "I live alone, in an apartment across town, that hopefully is still standing. I have one cat, which I named Furface, and the rest of my family lives across the country on the East coast." "Cute name for a cat. Furface..." He said, she guessed he was grinning. "What about you?" "Well, Unfortunately, I am an editor. I work in the Sci Fi department, on the third floor. By the way, who were you dealing with? Ed?" "He's the one." Lauren said, loosening up some. "Yeah... he's got a lot of stupid ideas about how things should be done. And he likes to hear himself talk. His little staff of ass kissers doesn't help either." Matthew said, bemused. Lauren listened to him circle her, feeling around on the floor. "Ah hah." "What did you find?" "A miraculously unbroken bottle of something." Matthew crawled up and sat down, fumbling with the cork. "Don't you think this might be a bad time to drink?" "Oh contraire. We're in a dark, silent, cold, small space. We're stuck, and we can't start a fire, because it would deplete our oxygen. On top of which, we're both scared. I've never seen a better time to drink in my life." "I think you Editors have a common thread -" Lauren said jokingly as Matthew slid in close to her. "You all like to hear yourselves talk." "Be nice, or I won't share." Matthew said, humor in his voice. She finally heard him pop the cork, and smell it. "Red wine..." He took a drink and made an indulgent sound. "What is it?" "Port wine. Good vintage. Personally, I think the only wine for an earthquake is a Zinfandel, but Port will do." His warmth on one side of her, made the rest of her feel cold, she shivered a bit, and Matthew paused. "Lean forward." He said, warmly, handing her the bottle and leaning away. She took a drink and followed his instructions. A few seconds later, he dropped his jacket over her shoulders, and left his arm wrapped around her back. "Slick." She said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you." She felt as if her breath had caught in her throat, and she took another long drink of wine, before handing the bottle back. "A guy's got to take all the chances he can get." Matthew squeezed her shoulder gently, and she curled up against him. A moment of comfortable silence passed between them. Lauren listened to the rhythmic sound of his breathing, and the sound of him taking another drink. There was something oddly comforting about the mundaneness of the two noises. "What will you do when we get out of here, Lauren?" He finally asked. "Check on my cat." Lauren said decisively. He handed the bottle back to her. "What about you?" "I haven't decided. I haven't got a cat, dog, fish, bird, or girlfriend... Just me to look out for." "I can't live like that. I need to know someone would be upset if I never returned... even if it's just because the food dish wasn't refilled." Lauren said, after a second of thought. Matthew squeezed her shoulder again, gently. "I've never lived with anyone since I moved away from my parents, and I never much minded... but - to be honest, I'm really glad you're here with me, now." "Mutual..." Lauren said, snaking an arm behind his back. She took another drink, and handed the bottle back. "Slick." He said, she could tell he was grinning. "You know. I've given the matter some thought. Maybe we should move to Florida. There are no active fault lines running through Florida... even if they do have hurricanes... Hm." "Do you always joke around so much? Or am I special..." Lauren asked, a beat passed and she added. "Not that I'm complaining..." There was a long silence in which Lauren heard Matthew's steady breathing, as if he were deep in thought. His arm didn't release her back, his fingers rubbing her shoulder with absent affection. "No, I suppose I don't... I'm just -" "Don't say you're scared... I'm scared enough for the both of us. Say you're trying to make me feel better." Lauren said quickly, interrupting him. " - Trying to make you feel better." He said, and she could feel his gentle smile through his words. He took a long drink of the Port as she reached up with her free hand and touched his face gently. He turned toward her as she searched his well chiseled features, and brushed her fingers over his lips. She felt them tighten a bit under her touch. "Lauren... it's not all and the best idea to be turning me on here..." He murmured. Lauren smiled to herself, and swept her fingers over his jawline and to the back of his neck. "Oh contraire." She whispered, before leaning forward to kiss him, clumsily at first, unsure of exactly where his lips were. He took in a short breath as her lips pressed fully against his, and froze for a moment before a groan came from somewhere in the back of his throat. He pulled her tightly against him, and hauled her up into his lap. "Lauren... God..." He murmured. He swept his tongue over her lips, and she welcomed it between them, to search her mouth. He tasted like the wine, a taste that was, in the moment even more intoxicating then the alcohol itself. He set down the bottle away from them, and returned his now free hand to her hips, and let it slide up her body to one of her breasts. He squeezed it lightly to feel her response, which he was pleased to find was a light moan, and a slight stiffening of her body. She started to unbutton his shirt, clumsily. He shifted uncomfortably beneath her, his fingers coming down only long enough to worm their way under her shirt, and then back up her body, and under her bra to tease the already stiffened nipple of her breast directly. She worked quickly, under this new incentive, and pulled his shirt apart recklessly, her fingers drawing over the warm skin of his chest, searching the curves of muscles and the feeling of his own nipples to her hands. He reached around behind her and slipped the bra open, pulling the straps away from the main part of the bra and pulling it off of her, leaving him free to explore her breasts, a fact that Lauren more then enjoyed. One of her hands slipped almost of it's own accord down to the waistline of his pants, trying to slide past them to touch him. Matthew broke the kiss long enough to lay Lauren back on the floor, he sat away from her a moment, and she heard a zipper as he undid his own pants. She followed suit, dragging her pants and underwear down far enough to allow him easy access, not caring so much if her clothing was off (she'd never be able to find them if they were), but caring about the amount of access he had to her body, which, at the moment, she wanted to be an all access pass. He leaned down and pulled her shirt over her breasts, making her shiver from the cold in the air. He quickly found one of her breasts with his lips, running his tongue over her nipple, making her moan loudly into the small space, the moan echoing with an almost deafening volume back toward them. She knew this was going to be fast paced and unromantic, and that didn't bother her. She needed her mind off the fact that they were trapped in rubble. She swept a hand down to brush over his impressive erection, and she felt him grunt with an encompassing need. "Lauren... keep that up, and I can't promise I'll be gentle..." He said, thickly. "That's fine by me, Matthew." Lauren said, breathlessly. Her voice somewhere caught in her throat. "Take me..." The low growl he emitted made her gasp, at the same time, he thrust into her leaning on one elbow, and setting his free hand to pulling her closer. She squirmed a bit, letting him settle comfortably into her. Just then he grunted, and pulled himself from her, before thrusting back, starting a relentless rhythm. When he was content she wasn't going to escape, he brought his hand back to her breast, and squeezed it, with an almost painful need. He kissed her then, with no amount of restraint. The whole experience was filled with a driving, passionate, insatiable need, the likes she'd never felt from a lover before. He needed her, wanted her, and had to have her in the most wicked of ways. He trailed his finger off her breast, and down toward their frantic meeting, letting his finger meet her clitoris, tentatively at first, and then in swift, rough circles. The feeling made her dizzy, and she realized that was in part because she wasn't breathing. She took in a deep breath, and pushed against him, meeting his pace, and pushing beyond it, setting her own. He filled her in long, hard strokes, very certain in his movements. "Oh God..." Lauren gasped, breaking into a sweat, as he leaned his head back to moan into their small universe. "Fuck... Matthew... Harder... God..." He didn't need to be asked again, his next thrust was swift, hard, and deep. She cried out words that made no sense, her mind a mess, as his hands came down to her hips to haul her against him with each oncoming thrust. She grabbed a hold of his shirt, and leaned up, kissing him with the same relentless ferociousness. The heat innermost in her body grew and creshendoed within moments, bringing her to the most incredible orgasm she'd ever had. He wasn't far behind her, her body milking every last bit from him, the warm jets setting her off on a second, lesser, but no less pleasurable orgasm. They lay spent, in the darkness, gasping for breath. God could only have told them how much time passed, they had no way of telling, and couldn't trust their own perception of it. Strangers in the Darkness "We need to get out of here." Matthew finally moaned into Lauren's ear, still buried inside her. "What makes you say that now?" Lauren asked, her voice a bit shaky, hoping he didn't just feel the need to get away from her. "Because the next time I have mad passionate sex with you, I want to be able to see your face." He said, hugging her gently. Lauren laughed a bit, relieved. "I can't believe..." She started, breathlessly. "I know... I wouldn't have thought myself the type for sex under extreme circumstances. Not that I wouldn't have slept with you otherwise, you've got an incredible body." "As do you, I'll admit. And I think even higher of it now that I've had a chance to explore it." Lauren said, taking in a deep breath, and realizing that the pain of breathlessness didn't go away. Her lungs weren't getting enough oxygen. The room had been depleted. "Oh shit... Matthew..." She whispered, fear gripping at her heart. She felt herself start to hyperventilate. "The air... Christ." Matthew hissed. "Lauren, breathe!" "I am breathing!" She howled back, indignantly. Matthew climbed off her and took her shoulders in his hands, shaking her hard. " We are not dying in this fucking bar, Lauren. Calm down and breathe deeply." He ordered. His hands left her then, and he got himself mostly dressed in the darkness, while she tried to swallow her fear down, back where it belonged. She took a rare moment of false calm to straighten her clothes back over her body, and she reached out for Matthew. He squeezed her hand. "What... what do we do?" She whimpered, still trying to get her breathing under control. "Search the walls. See if there's a way out, or see if we can at least punch another hole in the wall for air." He said, leaving her to start running his hands over the walls. She started back toward the bar where she'd first been thrown, and found their salvation in moments. "Matthew... here..." She wheezed. His breathing sounded just as bad, as he half stumbled, half crawled. "Hollow..." She gasped. "Good job." He rasped back, started to pound at it weakly with his fists. Lauren reached over and approximated where the port bottle was, grabbing until she got it, and then she slammed it against the floor, making a jagged weapon with the upper half of the bottle. "Move!" She ordered, starting to claw at the wood with the glass. She could hear it splintering some, as she drove her weight into it, listening with a detached interest as she heard herself sobbing wildly. "Lauren... give... I have more strength..." Matthew said, carefully prying the bottle from her hands and picking up where she left off. Lauren wheezed, and felt the darkness creeping into her mind. "Matthew..." Lauren gasped. "Hurry... please..." "Stay with me..." He gasped back, before shouldering the glass into the wood, and splintering it open. The rush of only moderately fresher air brought both of them to a coughing fit. Lauren grabbed onto Matthew, and held on tightly. "Lauren... it's all right..." He said, breathing in the new air deeply. "We'll be okay..." Lauren gasped for air a bit longer, and then opened her eyes, still unable to see... the whole thing made her hyperventilate once again. "Lauren... no... breathe deeply. You're going to pass out..." Matthew moaned, fear evident in his voice. "Matthew..." Lauren gasped, the darkness took over, and Lauren passed out in his arms. She woke up to bright lights, and groaned. "Oh God, I'm dead..." She whispered to no one in particular. "No, but I bet you wish you were." Matthew's familiar voice said back, he sounded relieved, and she felt his fingers brush over her face, as he placed his hand over her eyes. "Where are we? What happened?" "The hospital. Apparently your concussion was worse then we thought it was. The staff wants to keep you overnight. They say you did quite a number on your own head. After you passed out, someone found the hole we broke into for air. About an hour later we were free and you were no closer to waking up. The doctors say that isn't surprising given how badly you were banged up, and how little oxygen there was to breathe there for a while. They figure your brain went into shut down to try and heal and sort everything out." He explained warmly. "It's good to see you're all right." "How long have we been free?" She asked, stretching her fingers, and wiggling her toes, happy to note that all worked as well as they had before the day began. "Few hours. I'm not sure." He admitted. "The doc says I have to leave soon, and let you rest. Are you going to be all right in here by yourself?" Lauren took his wrist and pulled his hand away from her eyes, opening them, and forcing them to adjust to the light, as she focused on him. He was dirty, bloody, and disheveled, his jacket still around her shoulders, and his shirt still torn open. He gave her a sympathetic look. "I can't help it, Babe." He said, understanding in his voice. "They're going to let you out tomorrow... I'll come get you and take you home, if you want. They say that most of the buildings are still standing. It was just this one, and a few smaller buildings under similar states of structural un-integity. No housing buildings fell..." "Just tell them to leave the light on..." Lauren said, resigned. "I've had enough of the dark..." "Sure thing, Babe." Matthew said, kissing her lightly on the lips, and walking from the room, casting a last longing glance at her before going out into the hallway. Lauren sighed and kept her eyes open, staring at the florescent light fixture above her head, marveling in the light. A week passed, and Lauren felt a little better about things. Her apartment was, in fact, all right. Her cat was a little spooked, but none the more worse for wear. All she'd had to do was replace most of her dishes, and a few picture frames. A small price to pay, considering she was lucky to be alive. Matthew hadn't called her yet, but then, she really had been hoping against hope that he would come to see her. Instead, Lauren resigned herself, and fell into her routine, redoing the one or two actual drawings she'd had in her portfolio, lucky for her, she'd photocopied the rest of the pictures. The author of the romance book that Lauren had been assigned to do the cover for before the earthquake had also made it out of the building alive. She'd called Lauren a few days later to check up on her, and offer her the cover again, since they both still needed the money, and couldn't very well hold off a month because of the tragedy. The offices, because of the loss of the building, had arranged to get all their books published through other publishers, and this had meant that they were free to find their own covers, and finalize whatever work needed to be done. Lauren was meeting with the author in a week to discuss which cover they were going to use. All in all, her career had taken a decisive turn for the better. Lauren was working on finishing some of the sketches for the cover, when someone knocked on her door. She paused just long enough to do one last touch up on one of the lines on the drawing before coming to the door. She opened it, and glanced up to meet a pair of deep green eyes. Matthew was standing there, holding a bottle of port wine. "Sorry it took me so long to get back here to see you, Lauren." He said, with a light smile, one that she would have been able to identify by only hearing his voice. She grinned back. "Won't you come in?" She asked, stepping back from the door, and admitting him into the studio apartment. "Don't mind if I do..." He said, grinning back. "I was thinking about a few things Lauren, the first of which being that I want to take you out for some dinner, your choice. Anywhere you want to go... Secondly, I want to bring you back here, throw you on your bed, and make love to you like we did in the debris. Third... well, after talking with some of the people in the business I know, I think we have a place for your work in a brand new publishing agency. What do you say?" "I think all of it sounds wonderful. When do I start?" "Well... tonight..." He said, setting the bottle down on her table, and walking up to her, wrapping his arms around her. "Maybe we'll skip the dinner though, in favor of my second plan for now. It's early, and I'm not yet hungry, though, I think I might have fun working up an appetite with you." That said, he pulled her into a long deep kiss, while she swung the door shut behind them.