Coffee After the Demo
I had three more appointments that afternoon and the last one had already run long. My back was stiff from hauling the demo unit in and out of the van. Mrs. Harlan's place was the kind of tidy two-story you see in every suburb-beige siding, neat flower beds, no kids' toys in the yard. Divorced, the file said. Lived alone. She let me in and watched while I set up the vacuum on her living room carpet. I did the usual pitch. Showed the suction on the test patch of dirt I'd brought. Explained the filter system. She asked decent questions, not the fake ones people use to be polite. When I finished I gave her the quote. Standard numbers, room for a little wiggle if she pushed. She looked at the paper, then at me. "Coffee? You look like you could use it." I should have said I needed to get to the next stop. Instead I said sure. My stomach was empty and the van was hot. Kitchen was clean. White counters, no clutter. She poured two mugs and didn't bother with cream or sugar questions. Just handed mine over and leaned against the counter. "You're on commission," she said. Not a question. "Yeah." "I like the machine. Price is a little high for me." She took a sip. "What would it take to bring it down another hundred and fifty?" I started the usual line about manager approval and limited discount authority. She cut me off with a small shake of her head. "I'm not talking about calling your manager." She set the mug down. "I'm talking about a perk. For you. Right now. Then you adjust the paperwork and we both walk away fine." I laughed once, short, because I didn't know what else to do. She didn't laugh. "I'm serious," she said. "I've done this before. No strings. No names exchanged beyond what's already on the form. You interested or not?" My face felt hot. The coffee suddenly tasted too strong. She was early fifties, gray mixed into the brown hair she had pulled back, soft around the middle under a plain blue blouse and dark pants. Nothing like the women in the ads. Direct eyes. Waiting. "What kind of perk?" I asked. My voice came out rougher than I wanted. "The kind where you get off and I get the better price. Bedroom's upstairs. I want it a certain way. You game?" I thought about the other appointments. The gas in the van. The number on my commission sheet this month. Then I nodded. She led the way. Carpeted stairs, a landing with a plant that needed water. Her bedroom was neat too - made bed, light coming through the blinds in stripes. She closed the door even though no one else was home. "Clothes off," she said. "I'll do the same." I pulled my shirt over my head and folded it over the chair like I was still trying to be professional. Shoes, socks, pants. My cock was already half hard from the talk alone. She watched without commenting. When she unbuttoned her blouse her breasts sat lower, soft, nipples darker. She stepped out of the pants and underwear in one motion. Grey hair at the apex of her thighs. A small scar on one knee. She didn't suck in her stomach. "On the bed. Back against the headboard." I sat. The sheets were cool. She opened a drawer and took out a bottle of lube and a condom. Tossed the condom near me. "For the first part. Then it comes off." She climbed on, straddled my thighs, and squeezed lube onto her fingers. Reached behind herself. I watched her face while she worked it into her ass. No performance. Just getting ready. Then she rolled the condom onto me with practiced hands and positioned herself. The head pressed against the tight ring. She pushed down slow. I felt the resistance, then the give. Heat and pressure. She exhaled through her nose and kept going until she was seated. My hands hovered near her hips. She took one and put it on her breast. "Just stay still a minute." I did. She adjusted, small movements, getting used to it. Then she started to ride, short strokes at first. The friction was different - tighter, more drag. I could feel every shift. Her stomach moved with the effort. A little sweat already at her hairline. "Good," she said. "You can thrust some. Not too hard." I did. Shallow. The bed made a quiet rhythmic sound against the wall. She reached down and rubbed her clit with two fingers while she moved. Her breath shortened. I watched her face more than anything - concentrating, mouth slightly open. After a while she lifted off. The sudden cool air on my cock made me twitch. She peeled the condom off and dropped it on a tissue she'd set aside earlier. "Now without. Same way." More lube. She guided me back in. Bare skin this time. Hotter. The slide was easier. She went deeper, faster. I held her hips and met her. The pressure built quick. I told her I was close. "Not yet." She pulled off again, turned around, and got on her hands and knees. "From behind. Slow." I knelt behind her. Lined up and pushed in. The angle let me go farther. She pushed back against me. I held her hips - soft flesh under my fingers - and moved. The sound of skin. Her occasional low sound when I hit a certain depth. I reached around and found her clit again. She was wet there. She let me work it while I fucked her ass. "Harder now," she said. I gave it. The bedframe knocked steady. My thighs burned. She came first, a tight clench that almost pulled me over with her. I held on until she finished the shudder, then I was done. I started to pull out. "No. Stay." I came inside her like that, buried. The pulses felt strong in the tight heat. When it was over I slipped free. A little of it followed. She rolled onto her back, breathing steady, and looked at me. "Come here." I moved up. She took my cock in her hand - still half hard, slick and guided it to her mouth. Cleaned it with slow pulls of her tongue and lips. Swallowed what was left without making a show of it. When she let go she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Bathroom's across the hall if you want to clean up." I did. Hot water, soap. My reflection looked the same as it had that morning, just more flushed. When I came back she was already in her pants again, blouse half buttoned. She handed me the quote sheet and a pen. I crossed out the old number and wrote the new one. Initialed it. She signed. We walked downstairs. She poured the rest of the coffee out and rinsed the mugs while I packed the demo unit. At the door she said, "Machine still has the warranty the same, right?" "Yeah. Everything the same except the price." "Good." I carried the unit to the van. The afternoon light was lower. I sat in the driver's seat a minute before starting the engine, paperwork on the passenger seat, the adjusted number already feeling normal. Next appointment was twenty minutes away. I put the van in gear and pulled out.