The club was very near to Canary Wharf and Black Cab's abounded in the area now. Not so a few years ago when they would be as rare as Hen's teeth. No one living in Docklands at that time could afford a cab fare. But the influx of so many financial service types with cash burning holes in their pockets had changed all that. The cab took me back to Old Street and my office. I sat at my desk and stared into nothing. Nothing is what my life promised to be from now on. In that future, like an automaton I would take the train in the morning, my fellow passengers knowing nothing, nor caring of the bitter pain that I carried with me every day. I would come to this office and place figures in the right columns and even then the pain would keep me reminded of what I had lost. Then in the evening I would return to an empty home. No, not a home, a house, a dull listless place empty of her laughter, her presence, her voice, even the lingering perfume she would leave in any room she entered. That. She made loud swallowing sounds and, when he was done, rose back up to wipe her mouth with the back of her hand. She was panting, her eyes glazed over. "Sorry," he managed to gasp."Fuck, you taste good," she said. She smacked her lips as if he'd cum honey instead of sperm. She stroked him again, his cock now slick from spit and sperm. "And you're still hard," she noted. She looked over her shoulder, then back at him, a wicked smile spreading over her face. She turned her back to him. He thought it was over, but she only shut and locked the door. Then she hiked up her gown.He could only stare as she shimmied her panties down her legs, exposing her pale, round ass to him. She stepped out of them daintily and tossed them toward the hamper in the corner. Then she backed up to him until their legs touched. Bending forward, she reached between her legs, back far enough to grasp his cock. Jason felt as if he were a ghost floating in someone else's body, hardly able to believe.
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