The courtyard

Jace had known me for an hour. That is long enough when the yes is real. He is thirty-two. We met at the bar around the corner and walked because I said I wanted air, and the air I wanted was the brick courtyard beside my studio door. I stood there in the denim jacket and jeans, dark red bob, pale hands that had been patient all day with glass, and I told him the terms under the one working bulb. You can fuck my cunt against that wall. If a window lights, I am not stopping until I am done, unless I say stop, and then you stop. No next plan. No tour of the studio. He said yes. I liked the speed of it. My hands do slow work. My mouth does not, once it has decided.

I kissed him first, a test, and the test passed. Then I turned to the wall and opened my jeans and shoved them to mid-thigh. The night was cool on my ass. I told him to get his cock out and fuck me. He did, one steady push into my cunt that made me brace my forearms on the brick. Patient was over. I told him harder. He fucked my cunt harder, hands on my hips, mouth at my ear, the courtyard small and not private enough to pretend. I liked that. A neighbor could have looked. I hoped one might and then I forgot to hope, because his cock was hitting right and my clit was under my own fingers.

A window lit on the second floor. The square of it fell across the bricks and across my shoulder. I did not stop. I told Jace not to stop. He fucked me through it, a little wilder, still listening. I turned my face and bit his shoulder when I came, teeth in the cloth of his shirt, not enough to break anything, just the clamp I needed. My cunt pulsed around his cock and I kept rocking until the orgasm finished on my terms, window or no window. He asked where to cum. I told him to pull out and cum on the ground. He did, gasping, one hand still on my waist like a question. I shook my head. No next plan. That was the deal.

I pulled my jeans up. The window was still lit and nobody had opened it. Good enough. I told Jace he had been exactly the hour I wanted. He laughed, soft, and went back toward the bar. I locked the studio from the outside and did not go in. The bed in the back could stay empty. I walked to my car with lead-dust still somewhere in my cuffs and a satisfied cunt and no urge to text him. Sudden yes. Clean ending. That is how I like the night to fit.