Her stockings were the colour of midnight. The fact that he had one of her ankles against each of his cheeks, currently, gave him a good look. Her leg muscles pushed down with their warmth on his shoulders.
“Jack, you are so…so…”
Jack ground his strong hips into her with an audible slap. “Yes, Eve, my darling?”
Eve squealed and her milky white breasts raised with her breath. “…so perfect for me.” She thrust her hips up to accept him deeper. “My loins have been burning in anticipation of your return.”
“Yes, my love. When the Battle of Maximilian Hill ended, you were all I could think of.” His erection pushed deeper yet. His green army uniform shirt was open and missing the buttons Eve had ripped off. The matching pants were just inside the apartment door beside the boots he had barely gotten off before Eve tackled him.
Eve’s body curled beneath him with her ankles around his face and calves at his shoulders. Her slim curves were framed by the long red hair beneath her. Her red was natural, as proven by the pubic hair above her vagina that was currently massaging and eating his penis.
Dude…massaging and eating? No one will buy that.
The tiny apartment was lit by the dawn light that reflected off the machine gun he had put down upon entering.
He brought a machine gun home? Is this home?
“Please, Jack, give me your cum,” Eve begged. “I know how long you have been waiting for this first orgasm…two year duty is much too long.”
Jack’s green eyes searched for a quick answer to avoid the real answer. The sweat in his short brown hair rolled down his forehead. “Yes, two years.”
Don’t make it too obvious…ah shit, too late.
Eve’s movements froze. “There were no others, were there?”
“Of course not. I was fighting for our country…”
“Of course you were…”
“It was Mexico…”
Her body relaxed. “I’m sorry. I trust you.” She squeezed her head between her own ankles for a quick kiss. “Now fuck the shit out of me and give me that warm cum I crave.”
“That’s more like it.”
Eve’s body tensed again. “What were you fighting for in Mexico? There was no war going on there?”
Jack was quicker this time. “Drug lords. I was undercover and fighting in the war on drugs.”
Her smile was brilliant as the answer was accepted and, again, her body went fluid.
His’s head drooped and he stared at the keys. “Yes, ma?” Everyone called him Socrates…well, except for ma’.
His blue eyes glanced at the screen and his hand quickly brushed a strand of greying black hair from in front of them. “Eve, Jack…I’ll play with you kids later.” He clicked the save draft button and pressed stop on the iTunes just as Sting was about to lose his faith.
The desk was white melamine and cheap. It looked horrible against the cream painted walls, but X-File and Star Wars posters made up for the starkness. The posters were the beginnings of an attempt to mimic Remington Steele’s apartment.
He stood causing the kitchen chair he used for writing to creak as it slid across the plastic carpet protector. Two sets of blonde blue-eyed beauties caught his sight from the photo beside the monitor. “As for you two,” he whispered, “I miss you.” He kissed his fingertips and lay it on the forehead of each little girl in the photo before turning to go up the stairs.