Mercy was housesitting for her Aunt Maggy, who was honeymooning in Bermuda.  While her main responsibilities were to bring in the mail, water the plants, eat up the food that had expiration dates, and basically establish a presence to ward off unsavories looking to loot an empty house, what Mercy considered top priority was finally snatching some alone time with Keene.  Would he even show up at the café today and afford her the chance to ask him?   What if he decided girls who sucked guys off in public restrooms weren’t the kind he sought extra helpings from?  What if she sucked at sucking?
.        Around twelve-thirty she began looking for him, watching the clock as much as her surroundings.  There were two ways to enter the café, one from a door that led in from the outside, and the other from the bookstore, which involved little more than crossing the threshold from carpet to linoleum.  She kept her eyes on both possibilities, thinking that he should be walking in any second now.  If he wasn’t here by one, he wasn’t coming.
.        More oblivious to any task at hand rather than distracted, Mercy forgot to add the espresso to a latte, burnt a pizza and dropped a piece of cheesecake while transporting it from serving dish to plate.  Finally her shift manager sent her onto the floor to restock the books that lay abandoned on random café tables.
.        “And try not to file any true crime titles in the self-help section,” he admonished gently, yet still with a hint of frustration.  She nodded, staring guiltily at the floor as she moved out from behind the counter.
.        She tried to focus on the work, keep her mind off Keene and at some point autonomy did indeed take over.  There were less than five books left on her cart when she was fitting a Chelsea Handler bio into its place and felt a pair of arms slip around her waist.  A quick kiss on her neck followed and before she had a chance to turn around and reciprocate, or even acknowledge the affection, Keene was backing down the aisle away from her with a wide grin and a wave.  So what they’d done hadn’t been a one-time thing.  Her body crackled at the possibilities to come.
.        She kept away from him until her break, when she sat at his table with a turkey wrap and sweet green tea.  He was busy typing, but when he came to a stop he lifted his eyes off the screen and rested them on her.
.        “Hey there.”
.        “Hi.”
.        They let their greetings linger, both soaking up the vibrations that were still rumbling from their last encounter.   She picked up her wrap, took a bite that she hoped reminded him of the pleasures of her mouth, and started a conversation that included his latest writing assignment, her classes at the community college and plans for Mother’s Day.  She was taking her mom Trixie shopping in King of Prussia and then treating to dinner at The Capital Grille.  Keene said he’d be calling his mother; his parents lived in Arizona and he got to see them once a year, usually Christmas or someone’s birthday.
.        “Oh, well, you could come with us,” she invited, feeling instantly stupid after she had.  They’d never socialized outside the café; now that his dick was in her mouth it was time to meet her mother?  God, she was so pathetic.
.        To her surprise, and ultimate gratitude, Keene covered her hand with his and rubbed it.  “Thank you.  That’s sweet.  Maybe some other time.”
.        At the end of her break she rose from the table, gathering up her trash.  She couldn’t help but to feel she’d wasted her one shot to see him outside the café on a ridiculous invitation.  Why had she done that?  Was she really going to ask him to come to Maggy’s house, some forty miles away in Malvern and risk another rejection?
.        He noticed her hesitation.  “What?”
.        The worst he could say was no, right?  At least then she’d know where she stood.  Why travel close to an hour for a blow job when he could get one right here in a bookstore bathroom?
.        She took a deep breath.
.        “I don’t know what plans you have tonight, or later in the week, but my Aunt Maggy has a beautiful house in Malvern.  I’m housesitting for her and maybe you could stop by some time, hang out.  Just a suggestion.”
.        She quickly walked away without waiting for a response, and resumed working behind the counter.  Her concentration back, she was called upon to finish out her shift assisting customers in the café.  Once every so often she would glance over at Keene, busily typing on his HP laptop or scrolling through his iPhone.  Around five he began packing up his things.  She hoped he’d say good-bye before leaving and wasn’t disappointed.
.        He waited off to the side until she’d finished with a customer.  He leaned into her, smelling of peppermint and fresh linen.  His mop of soft brown curls didn’t quite reach his shoulders, but were enticing enough that she wanted to run her hands through the thick waves, gather clumps of it in her fists and pull him in for a deep kiss.
.        “Will you be there tonight?”
.        She nodded, unable to speak past the many lumps clogging her throat.
.        “Text me the address.”

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *         *

Maggy’s three story townhouse was immaculate.  Set back on a sunken lot from the quiet street on which it was constructed, it afforded just the right amount of seclusion for someone looking for a taste of the country right outside of the hustle that was taking place on Route 30, less than a mile south of the peaceful neighborhood.  Nestled at the foot of a sloping lawn of lush greenery and colorful Southern Camelia bushes, the 3400 square foot stone and brick structure boasted five bedrooms, seven bathrooms, three parlors, and three dining areas.  Off the rear parlor on the middle floor was a deck, complete with gazebo and grilling area overlooking a 720′ long liberty pool.  Mercy didn’t know what a single woman like Aunt Maggy needed with such a house, especially now that she was recently married and moving into Carlson’s Upperco, MD residence, but she hoped the woman held on to it long enough to leave it to her niece.  It was Mercy’s dream house, the kind of house where everything wonderful in life could be created and fostered.  The kind of house she would fill with hers and Keene’s children.
.        The entryway had always provided her with a pleasurable tinge of possibility.  Upon stepping foot inside the house one found herself with three distinct options.  Directly ahead ran the hallway that led to the rear parlor, a mini kitchen and dining area.  Beside the hall, on the left, were steps that led down to another parlor, the main kitchen and dining room, and two bedrooms, each with their own full bath.  Another bathroom was on this floor, as well as the laundry room, which led outside to the area underneath the deck.  Situated there was a variety of patio furniture; halfway across the lawn to the pool were a smattering of trees, three hammocks stretched out between several of their trunks.  The third option afforded by the main hall was a second stairwell off to the right which preceded another hallway, with two bedrooms across from each other and a common bath.  Further down and to the left was the master bedroom and bath.  In this bedroom were French doors that led out to a balcony that also looked over the pool.  On occasion Mercy had sat out there with her aunt enjoying a late Sunday breakfast of muffins smeared with butter and peanut butter, scones with clotted cream, hot peach tea and caramel coffee.  At the end of the hall was another parlor, crowded yet not cluttered with comfy chairs and couches, colorful pillows and tapestries.  There was a large circular oversized chair by a window where Mercy loved to curl up and read books or do crossword puzzles.  Two 60″ flat screen televisions were attached to perpendicular walls, the furniture arranged in such a way that every seat held an unobstructed view.
.        Although she had designated herself a bedroom on this floor where she kept some things–a few outfits, underwear and pajamas along with a few personal effects–Mercy slept in the parlor.  There was something comforting about being on the uppermost floor in the farthest room down the hall, a sense of isolation that made her feel removed from the world and its distractions.  In preparation for sleep she dropped the temperature in the room to somewhere between 60-65 degrees, pulled four to five comforters from the walk-in linen closet and arranged them on the twelve-piece sectional on a raised area along the wall that faced the pool.  There was a large picture window above the sofa and when Mercy awoke in the morning, she would open the slatted wooden blinds and look at the sun shimmering on the water.  Or the snow or rain, depending on the weather.  It didn’t matter; whatever was going on, it was the most spectacular view in the entire house.  Oh, how she wanted to wake up there with Keene, share that view with him.
.        She was certain he would love this room, the entire house.  What writer wouldn’t be able to find inspiration here?  One visit and he’d be hooked.  Of that she was certain.
.         And that he had a beautiful cock.  She was sure of that, too. One she wanted to swallow again, and caress and pump with her hands, and squeeze between her breasts, and straddle and buck up and down on, rock back and forth, use as a paintbrush on her throbbing clit.
.        If he ever shows up tonight.
.        She did some grocery shopping before arriving at the house, and made herself a Stouffer’s French bread deluxe pizza and watched The Borgias on Showtime OnDemand on the couch in the second story parlor.  She found the show very hot and racy, especially the actor who portrayed Cesare Borgia, and was feeling quite aroused by the end of two episodes.  It was after nine o’clock and she was beginning to think the night would be ending with her own well-placed hand and purposeful fingers down her pants when her iPhone chimed an incoming text.
.        It was from Keene, informing her he was outside, standing under the front awning.
.        Her stomach dropped, her crotch tightening and tingling as she felt a slick of juices lubricating her gash.
.        She leapt from the couch and raced to the entryway.
.        “Mercy,” he greeted with a smile and a hug when she opened the door.  She deliberately pressed against him, not wanting to seem so forward so soon, but she couldn’t help it.  Her body was crackling with a sexual energy that could only be expended with friction.
.        “I’m glad you’re here,” she breathed into his neck.  He closed the door behind him, she locked it and they fell against it, her lips immediately finding his.  He laughed against her mouth as they kissed, tongues mingling, hands caressing faces, fingers entwining through hair.  When they pulled apart, panting, he smoothed her hair from her face.
.        “Hi.”
.        “Hi,” she said.  She could feel an erection growing in his pants and she dropped a hand down to cup it and squeeze.  He grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away.
.        “How about a tour?”
.        It started and ended on the sofa in the second story parlor, the closest comfortable surface.  They collapsed onto it with slightly more grace than a Maury show guest who just found out her man was not the father, kissing and pawing and stroking.  Pushing Mercy down onto her back, Keene straddled her legs, undoing her jeans.  She ran her fingers along his forearms as he slid the denim off her hipbones, peeling them down her thighs, her shins until they were completely removed.  She could see his erection straining the material of his tan Dockers, at full attention.  Their eyes latched onto each other as she unbuttoned, then unzipped his pants, yanking them down his hips.  His penis jutted straight out from his Calvin Klein boxer briefs and she grabbed it with both hands, feeling its warmth through his underwear.  He reached inside and pulled it out, leaving it to bob just above the elastic waistband.
.        Aside from their tryst in the bathroom, Mercy had never seen a penis in the flesh.  And even then she hadn’t studied it so much.  It was there, she saw it, she slid it into her mouth.  But now she took some time to look at it, the textures, the different sized veins, the thick protruding blue one that ran a jagged line along the underside.
.        He reached down and began stroking it.  She watched, mesmerized as he caressed up and down the length of himself.  When she looked up into his face she noticed his eyes were trained on her mouth.  She parted her lips, running her tongue slowly along the bottom one.  She saw his breath catch, his arm start to move a little faster.
.        “I love your mouth,” he said.  “I want to fuck it.”
.        She nodded her consent and he grabbed one of the couch pillows and tucked it under her neck, her head hanging back over the top of it, her chin jutted in the air.  He moved up her body so that his knees were on either side of her cheeks.  He placed the tip of his penis on her lips, gripping it with his hand to trace the outline of her mouth.  She stuck her tongue out to flick at the slit in the center and a satisfied grin spread across his mouth.
.        “You’re up for anything, aren’t you?”
.        “For you I am.”
.        She covered her teeth with her upper lip, moving her tongue over her bottom teeth like he had shown her and he slid his dick inside her mouth.  As he moved slowly in and out, she sucked her cheeks in for extra suction, undulating her tongue to massage his organ.  She tilted her head back further, allowing her throat to open and receive all of him.   She breathed slowly and completely through her nose to stifle her gag reflex as she felt him deep in her throat, her nose mashed against his torso.  He bobbed there for a while, groaning with the sensation, then pulled completely out, repeating the process several times.  She put her hands on his hips, drawing him in and pushing him back, sucking and slurping.  He placed his hands on the arm of the couch just beyond her head, using it to support his weight as he pumped his hips faster, his slick cock sliding quickly in and out of her mouth.  She reached around his ass, between his legs to knead his balls and he came, squirting into her mouth.  She swallowed it all, licking the last from his slit as his penis dangled above her face, becoming flaccid.
.        He lay on his side facing her, his back against the back of the couch.  She felt his soft cock against her bare thigh, wishing it was hard again so she could feel it rubbing against the plump bud in the middle of her drenched pussy.
.        “I’m really hungry,” he said.
.        She was about to start rattling off the groceries she’d purchased earlier when he cupped her mound through her panties and gave it a squeeze.
.        “And I know exactly what I want to eat.”