Many of my secret fetishes exposed one fateful day.
Yes, Ruth had always been rather... tempestuous... around me, starting eight years ago when she was just twelve. Ruth, still laden with baby fat then, was her big sister Rachel's 'helper' at her vendor's cart on Fairfax south of West Hollywood. Ruth called me 'stinky' and 'dipshit'. She verbally abused me for years.
Why? Because she was jealous. Jealous of her sister Rachel, and their hot mom Deborah. Jealous, because I was screwing Rachel and Deb, and Ruth was far too young then to be getting any.
Ruth's state of mind certainly was not improved after our last encounter, almost two years ago, when naked Ruth and her best friend Katia had offered themselves to me, and I teasingly skipped out. Ruth was shipped away by her family the next day, and I'd had Katia for several months. Yes, I knew why Ruth was so pissed.
Ruth had told Katia that I would eventually be her slave. We would see about that, hey?
I kissed Ruth again. "What's there to forgive? Just stop slugging me, okay?"
"I'll only slug you when you deserve it. Can I have a glass of wine?"
"Sure thing." I pushed her beautiful bare butt toward the wine rack. "How about a Grenache Ros__?"
She nodded. I uncorked and poured the light pink wine into champagne flutes. (They were cheap glasses from WalMart, of course.) I handed one to her.
"To calmer times," I toasted, clinking our glasses.
"Uh, yeah Randy, that sounds like a good idea."
"Now, sit your cute ass down somewhere and tell me what the fuck is going on."
"Come over here." She pushed me into the bedroom and positioned herself yoga-style at the head of the bed. "C'mon, right here." She patted the bed in front of her. I sat, mirroring her cross-legged posture, almost knee-to-knee. We had nice views of each other's genitals.
I started with small talk, catching-up talk, light questions.
"So what are you doing in D.C.? Last I heard, you were at Cal Arts. You're a design major, something like that, right? This is a long way from Valencia and Hollywood."
"Yeah, well, Dad sent me there, and it's a great place if you want to work for Disney or Warners later, but I found that it wasn't my thing. I'm no artist, not really."
"Well, a bullshit artist, maybe," I teased. She scowled and continued.
"But it turns out, I can work with numbers, and I can work with artists. I'm hot on gallery management and curating, showcasing art, that sort of stuff. I talked Dad into switching me to the Corcoran here. It costs about the same as Cal Arts. I'll take a Master's in exhibition design eventually. That's my goal. Y'know Dad's law firm mainly represents the studios. He's a bit disappointed I won't be there, but he figures that with my connection, he can be a shyster for galleries too."
I was puzzled. "What, the Corcoran Gallery is a college?"
"No, stinky, I mean dummy, I mean Randy, the Corcoran RUNS a college, right out of the gallery, across from the White House. It's just a few blocks from here."
"Sounds interesting. So you live here now?"
"Yeah, I share a condo nearby with a couple other students. They're wild girls. I've calmed down a lot. Well, except when I see YOU, stinky, I mean Randy." She giggled.
Damn, that is the first time I've ever heard her giggle! I did not know she had it in her.
"So what else is happening? How's your family? I haven't heard from anyone lately."
Ruth sipped her wine, leaned down and kissed the end of my cock, the sat up again and took another sip.
"Rachel moved around a lot after you dumped her. She..."
I interrupted. "Hey, I did not dump her. She was pulling trains with every dick in town, and then she took off, for...? Where? Chicago, Omaha, some fucking midwestern place."
"Okay, so she went overboard a little."
I snorted. A little, huh? Hah, she sure had her fun! Not that I didn't too, oh yeah...
"Anyway, yeah, she was at U Chicago for a while, then went to U Nebraska in Lincoln, the best part of Nebraska, which ain't saying much.