Onyx V St. Syr

This is my first attempt at an MFM or Microfantasy Monday. A weekly blog meme started by Ang the Sweltering Celt. Every week various bloggers post a short erotic story around a central theme. This week’s theme is Frustration so here goes:

Halfway through my third drink I pulled out my cell phone again, partly to check the time, and partly to double check that there wasn’t some missed text or call from her. I knew there wouldn’t be, but there’s always that small part of you that hopes that somehow you might just have missed it, and that miraculously you’ll find some message, some communication explaining why you’re sitting in some dive bar at 10:30 on a Friday night waiting for someone you know deep inside isn’t gonna show.

Nothing, no voicemail, no call, no text. I briefly toyed with the idea of calling her again, but what would be the point? It’s not like one more call would somehow succeed in attracting the attention that the first two had failed to gain. I finished the last of the cheap scotch as I shook my head to the bartenders inquiring eye and stood up. The bar was still far from crowded, but I knew that would change soon and I didn’t really feel like drinking by myself in the middle of a crowd of people ready to celebrate the end of the work week.

Outside it had started raining, a light drizzle typical for this time of year. I pulled my coat tighter around me as I pondered whether to flag a cab or take the subway home, it wasn’t a hard decision as I stepped to the curb to look for a taxi. Luckily it wasn’t long before I spotted the the familiar glow of a lit taxi sign. The rain was starting to come down harder as I got in the back seat and gave the driver my address. I was happy to note this cab driver was not the chatty type and we the ride home was passed in silence as I contemplated my frustration with being stood up.

As I rode home I could no longer resist the urge to try just one more call. Trying in vain to suppress the flickering of hope as the phone rang, then the disappointment as it went to voicemail. Putting the phone away I could feel bitterness and resentment rising again mingled with a sense of worry that something might have happened to her, some horrible thing that kept her from being able to let me know she couldn’t make it.

Arriving at my apartment building I got out, and headed inside. The apartment was dark and empty, I flicked on the kitchen light as I got a bottle of scotch out of the cupboard, pouring myself a generous amount as I sat down at the computer. A quick check confirmed what I already suspected, no e-mail, nothing from her as to why she had failed to show up. “Goddamn it all” I muttered to myself and took a deep sip of my scotch. Feeling the night was already ruined beyond repair I decided I might as well call it a night.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door, frowning slightly I got up to answer. There she was, dressed in the same hot, red dress she’d worn the first time we met, an unapologetic smile on her red lips as she whispered “Miss me?”

I frowned, caught between the anger I’d been feeling and the undeniably pleasant surprise of seeing her after all. “I waited for over an hour and a half at the bar” I stuttered “Where the hell were you?”
“Outside” she replied “Waiting for you to get tired of waiting and head home.” “What the hell?” I barked, “Why would you do that?”
She just laughed as she strode into the apartment, looking straight at me with her intensely green eyes. “Why baby, isn’t it obvious?” She asked, her tone deep and seductive
“You always fuck me harder when your angry.”