The lot after
The show was over and I had been released. Cases shut, labels taped, nothing of mine still hot. I stood in the night lot beside the plain dark van in a black t-shirt with no mark, black pants, boots, pale undercut with the longer top swept aside, gauges in my ears. Tam was twenty-six. Reese was thirty-three. They had been in the crowd, not on my crew, not people I had been responsible for. I asked, because I always ask. They said they did not work the fire and did not want a lesson in it. They wanted to fuck. I said behind the van, and if I say stop, stop.
The lot still had people in it, far off, a scatter of taillights and a conversation I could not make out. That distance is the spice. It is not a plan to be seen. I told them so. Tam nodded. Reese nodded. I turned to the van, shoved my pants to mid-thigh, and told Tam to get his cock into my cunt. He did, a thick push, and my cunt took him while the asphalt held the day's heat. I braced on the panel. Reese stepped in at my shoulder. I turned my face and sucked his cock, spit slicking my chin, one hand on Tam's wrist so the fuck stayed at my pace.
A security cart rolled the far lane, light washing a row of cars that was not ours. It did not turn. I got wetter so fast I laughed around Reese's cock. Tam felt it and fucked me harder, which I wanted. His cock drove deep. Reese's cock filled my mouth. I came with my forehead on the van, cunt gripping, a moan I muffled on skin. The cart kept going. Nobody walked up. I stayed bent an extra second because the risk had landed exactly where I like it, close enough to imagine and far enough to finish.
I told them both to cum on my stomach. Tam pulled out. I turned, shirt up, and stroked his cock until he came in hot stripes across my belly. Reese fucked my fist next, his cock slick from my mouth, and he came on the same skin, mess mixing, both of them watching my face because I told them to. I like the proof. I wiped with a shop towel from the door, fixed the pants, and shut the van. They asked which city I worked next. I said that was a call sheet, not a love letter. I drove off the lot alone, cases quiet behind me, cunt still fluttering, bedtime nowhere on the schedule.
