The stair

Donal is thirty-five, and he met me on the landing because I told him the stair was the point. My room was free. I did not want the room. I wanted the rail, the risk of a neighbor, and a man who could call me a whore without turning it into a speech. I stood there first as a clothed fact, denim jacket, boots, short hair, one hand on the rail, lipstick still neat. I said the stop word before I said the filthy one. Cut ends it. He said cut back to me so I knew he had it. Then I told him what I wanted, and he did not get sweet.

I asked him to spit in my mouth. I opened for it. He looked at my eyes, checked, and spit, warm and plain, and I swallowed that because I had asked and because it made my cunt clench in my jeans. I turned to the rail and shoved the jeans to my thighs. The building was quiet in that thin way that never lasts. He got his cock out and rubbed the head against my cunt until I was wet enough to take him. I told him to fuck me and to say the word. He said whore against my ear and pushed his cock in.

The fuck was short and mean in the way I like, not cruel, just close to the edge of being heard. His cock filled my cunt. The rail was cold under my hands. Every thrust shoved a small sound out of me that I did not bother to pretty up. He called me a whore again when I told him to, and I answered by fucking back onto his cock, greedy, cockdrunk on the risk and on the name. My clit got the heel of my own hand. I came shaking, knees soft in the boots, cunt gripping him so hard he swore. I kept my voice in my teeth and still heard it bounce once off the stairwell. That echo made me cum harder. I like being the person the building almost catches.

A door opened somewhere above us, a real door, not a fantasy. We stopped. We did not need cut. We just stopped, grinning like thieves, his cock out of my cunt, my jeans up in one yank. He came in his hand because I whispered that he could, quick strokes, cum in his fist, not on the rail and not on me. Footsteps started and then went the other way. We stayed frozen and delighted until the hall went dead again. I kissed his cheek, told him he had done the word right, and went into my room alone. He took the stairs down. My cunt was still pulsing when I locked the door. I did not text him a next time. The landing had been enough.