Naughty Love Letters

Written by: Sebastien La Croix

Cosmopolitan is (perhaps) the easiest way to describe the city of Toronto. The city is full of dual realities. There is just as much good in this place as there is bad. As much possibility as there is impossibility. Truth be told there are many contradictions required to sustain the harmony of this extraordinary place. I can help you understand this better by introducing you to Nic and Carmel. Nic is a corporate lawyer; he makes a six-figure income, drives a Maserati, dines twice a week at Panorama, and takes his Friday night drinks over at Ultra Super Club on Queen Street. He’s 36, successful, good looking, educated, and just so happens to fuck some of the city’s most beautiful women on the regular. Nic’s problem is he’s bored despite the fact that he has very little time on his hands. On the other hand Carmel is a rare books and antiquities dealer who owns a small shop in the city and lives just upstairs from it. Carmel’s life paced to her own liking: she travels at least once a month to make significant purchases other wise the bulk of her business is done online. To sustain her income she doesn’t need to keep the shop, but since it was her parent’s it has a sentimental value to her she’s not willing to let go of. Carmel is 28, short, feisty, and very Mediterranean looking. She’s not the kind of beautiful men notice right away: Carmel’s beauty is the kind men today take for granted. It’s the kind of beauty that at first glance isn’t visible but once you look closely the many facets of its wonder are revealed to you. These two come from completely different worlds and yet they live in the same city; and in every way that is right and wrong they embody what the city is. To better understand this I’m going to share with you the story of Nic and Carmel.

It’s eleven o’clock on a Thursday night. Queen Street looks and feels like a mid July weekend only its mid October. There should be leaves on the ground and complaints of the coming cold that fill the sidewalk smokers conversation. It would seem things have all gone backwards or perhaps God’s smiled on the city for even a short while allowing the people to enjoy what little heaven on earth they have left. Romantic notions cast aside Nic walks out of Ultra with a tall model type blonde on his arm. He slips his card into her bra strap as he walks her to a cab and they exchange “call me’s” along the way. At this very moment the two towering individuals collide with a very small Carmel. Carmel, lacking inhibition, immediately hollers, “Get off!” The tall blonde with Nic’s hand still on her ass tells Carmel to watch where she’s going. Carmel flips her the bird as she walks up to the doorman of Ultra. Nic looks back in curiosity as he tucks his tall blonde into her cab and ignores her kiss-blowing goodbye. The young woman quite literally half his size didn’t really look like she belonged at the there. He walks over to the doorman with a cigarette. The doorman hands him a lighter while continuing his conversation with the young woman.

“He wants you to go in.” The doorman smiling in anticipation.

“I’m not dressed.” Carmel answers reciprocating his smile as she pulls her hair out from under her jacket.

“You’re never dressed.” He smiles looking down at her-not because she was inferior, but the fact was she was so much smaller than he was.

All the while Nic stands smoking while blatantly eavesdropping. Who was this girl? He’d never seen her before and he knew everyone who was anyone to know at Ultra. Why was the doorman being so nice to her? That guy only made time for D plus cup sizes and short skirts. In the moment of his contemplation Nic’s friend, and the manager of Ultra, steps outside. He goes over and says hello to this little thing and hands her an envelope. The girl shamelessly opens it and checks it out. She folds it and puts it in her pocket.

“You really should see how it looks in there.” Said the 40-year-old Manager with the most exquisite salt and pepper hair to match his pin stripe suit.

The girl puts her hands on her jacket and opens it up a bit revealing a black cotton knit dress. “Clearly, I’m not dressed for the occasion.”

The manager and the doorman smile and shake their heads. As the manager looks over he sees Nic smoking. “Nic, you’re good with women. You convince Carmel here to come in for one drink.”

Nic takes a few steps over and throws his cigarette to the curb. He walks over with his hands in his pocket strutting almost. “How can I help?”

“Carmel has been to this place six, maybe seven times. Every time she gets and invite to come inside and have a drink, on me mind you, and every single time she turns me down. I don’t know what to do anymore.” The manager exaggerates but all he elicits is some serious head shaking from Carmel accompanied by a faint smile. “Did I mention that on top of all that she walks away with a cheque every time single time. I think the least she could do is come in for a drink.”

“I think you’re right. It’s only good business.” Nic said while taking a moment to look closely at Carmel. Something about her was fresh, indescribable really, unlike anything he’d ever seen before.

Carmel bit her lower lip annoyed by the recent advent of a committee and members petitioning to get her inside Ultra. At that moment she was contemplating it for just a split second until a few Amazonian like women with collagen filled lips and sparsely layered clothing came waltzing outside on their stiletto heals. Carmel quickly regained her senses.

“Not tonight, maybe another time.” She said almost appearing sincere if it hadn’t been for Nic who noticed the change in her face as she watched the manikins smoking just behind them.

The manager disappointed put his hand out to shake hers. “Next time then.” Carmel shakes his hand and he holds on to it for a second. “Not even Nic’s smile could get you in here.”

“Who?” Carmel said sincerely confused. She hadn’t really noticed who Nic was despite his brief injection earlier.

The manager laughed and kissed her hand for that comment, in fact after looking at Nic’s face after she asked “who” he kissed her hand again.

Nic was fuming. This little thing was nothing special. Who was she knocking he thought to himself. He’d never had anyone make him feel so little, especially not someone so little in comparison to himself. Who did she think she was? He spent a lot of money in that place. Let’s face it; you don’t make friends at a place like Ultra with out spending the kind of money Nic spends. And you don’t get into to Ultra with out being the kind of person that can spend the kind of money you need to spend to be at Ultra. He could feel the women behind him eyeing every inch of his sculpted body under his suit. He knew they were salivating even though his back was turned. But, Carmel who stood right in front of him didn’t even look at him. She didn’t even realize he was there. He felt so anxious he forgot about the blonde that blew him a half hour earlier in the men’s room. He totally ignored the congregation of women enjoying the view from behind him. He just looked at Carmel like she was a bull’s eye of sorts-he had to have her.

“I think it’s about time you bought me a drink”. Nic uttered.

“Excuse me?” Carmel said with disdain.

“Did I stutter?” Nic responded condescendingly.

The manager was taken aback by Nic’s attitude. The doorman was so consumed by the Amazonians walking back in that he paid little attention. The manager noticed something going on between Nic and Carmel, it made him uneasy; the joke no longer seemed funny and he really didn’t want to know what happened next. He waved and walked himself back into the club with the Amazonians.

“Why would I buy you anything?” She asked while buttoning up her jacket. She didn’t know why but she was interested in continuing this conversation that clearly would come to nothing. But, deep down all women know that’s not true. After all Shakespeare wrote “nothing will come of nothing” and a whole lot came out of that now didn’t it. Women, they know better, but they often choose to ignore this.

“You just got paid, you don’t look like you have anything better to do.” Nic was beside himself. His own arrogance startled him. But he was unable to stop himself. Something about her lack of interest in him and in her own appearance for that matter provoked him.

“Good thing you aren’t PR for this place-you’re buddy would lose a lot of business.” She answered seething.

“What kind of business? You’re kind of business?” He quickly jabbed back with out missing a beat.

“My kind.” She shook her head. The exact reason she didn’t want to go in that club was standing right in front of her. Arrogant, self involved, uptight, chauvinistic, and with a killer body. She was only human. She looked, even if just for a second. He wasn’t her type. Carmel usually dated the “art fag” type guy. The one’s that cry when you hit them. Looking at Nic he wasn’t that guy. For some reason she was still standing there. So was he. They both were standing there not saying anything for about a minute. Now a minute isn’t a very long time when you’re talking. But in complete silence a minute can seem like forever. It seemed the only way to move forward in the conversation was to digress as a human being. So that’s what she did. “You’re a real ass hole you know that.”

“I’m as much of an asshole as you are an uptight bitch.” It just spilt out of Nic. He spit out the most awful phrase with the same finesse and ease he’d used to close a client for a half million-dollar retainer at noon. He felt the need to take a few steps closer to her. He loved the fact that Carmel didn’t stand back at all. She stood there looking up at him with little regard, as though she didn’t care that he was invading her space-it was still “her space”. Something came over him and he suddenly felt flush as though he were blushing. “My car’s parked just around the corner” He leaned down to whisper to her.

Carmel felt fire surge through her veins as she slapped him across his left cheek. Nic wasn’t upset at all. He actually seemed to have enjoyed it-as though it was the first time that had happened to him. Well maybe not the first time, but the first time in a long time. Her palm was pulsating and throbbing for how hard she hit him. But Nic didn’t seem to mind it at all. “Asshole!” She uttered while holding her hand.

For some reason Nic felt especially bold. He moved in closer and took her hand and put it right on his chest. She could feel his heart beating rapidly; it was beating faster than his physical appearance ever let on. It was beating faster than hers. His body was hard. His hand was strong. The thought was crossing her mind. The thought had already crossed his. Not much distance between disdains and lust. Not much between pleasure and pain. Not that far a walk to the underground parking garage just around the corner. And just like that, with out even speaking they were on their way. Ever have it happen where you start out somewhere and end up somewhere else with out remember the way you got there? That’s exactly how it was for Nic and Carmel. They started out in front of Ultra and somehow ended up making out against the passenger side of Nic’s Quattro Porte.

She was short and that was causing a crick in Nic’s neck. But, she was also about 65 pounds lighter. It made it so simple to just pick her up and make it easy on himself. Carmel loved it. She loved having her small arms around his big shoulders. The way his suit jacket was getting caught on her buttons. She could hear a rip here and there. Thousands of dollars worth of Italian silk shot to hell for a little stab at ecstasy.

“So, are we going some where or we going to do this right here?” Asked Carmel as Nic licked her neck.

“I hadn’t quite decided that yet.” He answered between licks and kisses.

“Let me help you.” Carmel put her hand down the front of his pants and grabbed his engorged member. It was a lot bigger than she anticipated. She quickly let it go and that made Nic sigh. This sign of yearning made Carmel smile with tenderness. She knew he wouldn’t let her go-she was sure her ass would stay firmly planted against that door of that hundred thousand dollar hunk of metal. Carmel slid her hands down his chest and slipped them inside his jacket while pulling his shirt out from inside his pants ever so gently. It would seem Carmel decided for them both that it was happening right then and there.

“What are you doing?” Sighed Nic as Carmel’s nails slid over his abs towards his belt buckle. He knew what she was doing. How couldn’t he know what she was doing, after all it only takes a few seconds for a fly to come down and to be taken over by the lingering feeling and most inexplicable sweet sensation that is a woman’s hand pulling (ever so gently) on hard and warm cock.

She stroked it perfectly. She paid attention to his body, his breathing, and the way his head jerked back when she grasped too tightly. Nic had fucked some of the best looking women in Toronto, but he’d never had any of them touch him the way this little Mediterranean number did. He’d have stayed there forever with her hand wrapped around his shaft. But nothing this good can last long. Nonetheless, it doesn’t necessarily mean that the end of one bit of savory rapture can’t lead to another. Carmel took her hand off his woken penis and slid it up to his face. She caressed it enjoying every crevasse and imperfection that only she seemed to notice in his seeming less flawless facade. The vulnerability in him was apparent for a moment; and a moment is all it took for Carmel’s insides to enliven. She quickly freed herself and stepped away from Nic who running his hands through his hair let out a ravenous gulp. Carmel opened the backdoor of the car. She was watching Nic watching her. She enjoyed it. He looked at her as though he was looking at her for the first time from every second to the next. She slid her panties off and out from her cotton knit dress; Carmel proceeded to toss them at Nic who caught them with out even flinching and put them in his pocket. Out of the same pocket came a condom.

Carmel lied herself down on the tan leather seats of that Italian masterpiece this overpaid asshole was driving on the daily. She hiked up her cotton dress that cost as much to put together as one inch of the leather beneath her swollen puss. Nic stood in front of the car door just looking down at her. It was completely covered in hair. He hadn’t seen a woman like this since high school. He felt compelled to kneel down. He touched himself with one hand as he slid the other up her the inside of her thigh and straight on top of that mound of dark course hair. Carmel eyes closed. Nic’s fingers probed deep inside of her. It was tight, wet but tight. She hadn’t had sex in a long time. Usually Nic would stab at that little orifice but he was over come by the need to please her. He wanted it to be good for her. Nic took his hand off his shaft and searched for her clitoris. He pawed at it until he saw her back arch and her legs spread a little more. He’d found the spot. His insatiable burning was subsiding as his fingers flowed more fluidly in and out of this precious angel that lay before him. It was a different kind of tight around his fingers now. The clenching kind of tight, the one that means she’s ready. Carmel opened her eyes as he slid his fingers out of her. She watched him put the condom on. She sat up. All of her sap flowing over the leather. Nic got in the car and closed the door. He leaned into her kissing her as she lowered his pants and opened up his shirt a little more. She wanted to feel as much of him on her as possible. The tossing an tussling of what way to be seemed agonizing until Nic took charge and put her on her back pushing her knees up to her chest. She cocked her head back as he filled her with himself. At first he went slowly not wanting to go too deep. She was still tight. He resisted only inserting himself half way into her wetness. He felt her pumping her pelvis up towards him as she pulled him down with her arms around his neck. She wanted it all-he surrendered it. Nic assaulted Carmel’s angelic orifice diligently and with furious fervor. She uttered the most salacious and horrific phrases that could only entice him to persist in his work. Tired and agonized he refused to give up. He wasn’t’ ready to cum yet. Neither of them was.

The Italian leather was damaged beyond remedy. Between sweat and the moist essence of feminine vitae there was little left to salvage of luxurious commodity. Violently Carmel clawed at Nic’s buttocks pulling him into her harder and deeper. Tired and consumed by the insatiability of this little thing beneath him he resorted to a more tactful approach. Nic pulled him self up a bit and forced her right leg out from her chest. Spooning her Nic forged himself into her again and again. Only now he held one of her breast in his left hand and with his right he stimulated that little creamy region just above where he invaded over and over again with relentless commitment. She pushed back on him as he thrust forward. She was almost there as she dug her shoe into the side panel for leverage. She was there and she was telling him. His hand creamed. His body tired. He just waited and worked patiently for her to release all of her sweet liquor on to his pelvis. Nic could feel it coming all over him. He’d never been with a woman who was so quiet when she came. She didn’t even make a sound. She just breathed hard and pushed up on him for more until she finally quit and put her small hands on his that was full of her creamy essence. She lay there still letting him finish. He couldn’t come in her or on her. Something inside him told him it was wrong. He pulled out and took the condom off coming all over the front dash. Carmel lay there catching her breath. She was finished. Completely finished. Nic lay next to her spooning and exchanging warmth with her as she regained composure. He caressed her mound of dark course beauty.

It was the best sex Nic ever had. The two lay and talked for a while exchanging human experience in the back seat of a destroyed Maserati. It wouldn’t be long before they would digress. Nic would do up his pants. Carmel would pull down her dress. The two would exchange numbers and promise a dinner, a coffee, or even just a keep in touch of sorts. But they never would. Nic would drive off with her panties in his pocket and her essence all over his back seat. Carmel would watch him drive off from the window in her antique shop. Before the morning would come they would both have showered and washed off whatever little bit of each other there was to be reminded of. Soon the paper would be delivered and the subways would start running again. It would be business as usual on that bright Friday morning in Toronto. The night before would be nothing more than a memory lost in time. That’s the city. That’s where we live.

The End.

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