Happy Monday, Folks! I hope you had an enjoyable weekend and are all rested up for the workweek. I am gearing up for finals week in my Management class. Meh, that's boring information though. I have more exciting things to talk about than a Masters Program and college coursework. Yuck!
How about this…are you ready? Really really read? Story Orgy's Lee Brazil has created a Facebook page for his Truth or Dare series. Yay! I'm stoked. Head on over and "Like" the page. You don't even have to wait in line.
And now for this week's prompt story. Since I wrapped up a 6-part story last week, I am beginning a new tale. This week's prompt story is titled A Tabled Affair and includes three prompt terms – sweat, police station interrogation room, and masseur. I hope you like it and the scrumptious picture selected by Jade Basier. *Sigh* She's the bomb-diggity!
When we finish this story, we'll hop on over to the other orgiasts's blogs and see how they were inspired by the prompt terms. Just hold my hand and we can go together. And now, I'm going to put it on the table for you. C'mon…let's go…
A Tabled Affair
Damian never claimed to be perfect, but he knew he never wanted to make the same mistakes. He always said that if he was going to make a mistake, it would be a brand new one. Not a repeat of a time before.
Sitting in a room full of ugly ass mother fuckers is not my idea of a good time. Every two weeks I have to–
"Damian Sadan."
Damian stood, taking off his ball cap. As he turned to walk in the direction from which the voice came. I better just keep my mouth shut. "Well it's about time. I've been waiting for over an hour."
Dammit! Why couldn't he show some restraint?
"You put yourself here." The lady in the doorway narrowed her eyes. "I didn't." The graying pompadour held its shape as she shook her head, in irritation, all but one curly strand which fell loose to one side.
Damian's hand gesture resembled that of a crosswalk guard. "Whoa. I'm sorry Ms. Feagley."
"Damn straight you're sorry. Now, come on. Let's get this done. It's past my lunchtime."
Ms. Feagley led Damian down the hall to her office, peering at him over her glasses with beady eyes.
She raised her brows so high Damian thought they might disappear into her hair. "You know the drill."
"Yes ma'am." Damian sat in the chair nearest the door, studying his probation officer from across her desk.
She sat down gracefully, folded her hands on the desk, and then stared in silence.
Oh shit. This can't be good.
Ms. Feagley exuded more confidence and strength than anyone Damian had ever seen, with the exception of his mother. And that's exactly who Ms. Feagley reminded him of.
Unwillingly, Damian's mind drifted back to his childhood, a time when his mother was still alive and fighting for her life. "Fucking cancer." Damian mumbled.
"Excuse me?" Ms. Feagley snapped back.
"Nothing. I'm sorry." Damian felt red-hot heat wash over his face.
"Why are you here, Mr. Sadan?" The same beady eyes held Damian's attention.
"I'm on Probation. This is my last visit."
Ms. Feagley's jaws clenched and Damian thought lasers would shoot from her eyes at any moment. Then she continued, short and choppy. "On probation. For. What?"
Damian fidgeted with the seam on the pant leg of his blue jeans a little, then with the back of his hand he wiped the sweat that had trickled to his brow. "Possession of marijuana."
Ms. Feagley's jaws continued to work overtime as her stare intensified, causing Damian to slump down in his chair. But he didn't take his eyes off of her. The last time he did that she hit her keyboard and the keys flew everywhere.
Ms. Feagley lightly tapped her pencil on her notepad, glanced at her folder, and then back at her notepad. "Go on."
"Ms. Feagley, I've been really good. And I don't–"
Bam!
Ms. Feagley's hand fell heavy to her desk. "You don't listen very well. That's what you don't do."
With one swift motion, Ms. Feagley removed her glasses, stood, and sat on the edge of her desk. With the earpiece of her glasses in the corner of her mouth and her squinty eyes glaring just a foot away from Damian's, all Damian could do was sit there, caught like a deer in headlights.
What. The. Fuck. Is this lady doing?
"Damian, do you remember the story you told me the first day you walked into my office?"
"Yes ma'am. I'll never forget that story either. I was in the police station after my arrest. They had me in the interrogation room and scared the living daylights outta me."
A smile crept across Ms. Feagley's face. The tenacity in her voice gave way to the gentlest tone. Once again, Ms. Feagley reminded Damian of his mother, how she was just days before she passed away. "Mr. Sadan. You're free to go. If you feel like you're forgetting your story, give me a call. I'll remind you." Then with a widening smile, she extended her hand with a business card wedged between her fingers.
Tears welled up in Damian's eyes when he reached out for the business card. For the first time, he felt the love in that woman's heart. And the touch of her hand was as soft as silk.
Ms. Feagley gave a gentle squeeze and said, "Go, Damian. And be good." She released Damian's hand, stood and turned. But not before a tear fell from her eye.
Damian's words hung in his throat. He stood to leave and mouthed, Thank you. Putting on his ball cap, he quickly turned and left.
***
Damian rubbed his hands together as a mischievous smile crept across his face, his eyes widened with anticipation. He pulled the handle on the tinted glass door and entered.
"Good afternoon, Sir. Sign in and I'll be right with you." The handsome young man with dark brown hair and bright blue eyes glanced up and continued to type, his finger strokes smooth and deliberate.
"I have a 3 o'clock appointment." Damian signed the sheet on the clipboard and sat in the corner next to the window and a gorgeous fiddle-leaf ficus.
After some time of flipping through magazines, Damian looked at his watch. What the hell. It's 3:15. He walked up to the counter, tapped his finger on the sign-in sheet. "Excuse me…" Damian paused to read the name tag "Danny, I had an appointment at 3 o'clock. It's now 3:15."
"Ah yes. I haven't forgotten you…" Danny stopped to look at the sign in sheet. "Damian. But my records show that Mauricio's 3 o'clock appointment is for a Mr. Swingtime. I was simply giving him time to arrive before giving up on him."
Damian smacked his forehead and chuckled. Of course! Dammit.
Danny's bewildered expression was almost enough to embarrass Damian, but not quite.
"Danny, I'm sorry. Apparently, the mix up is entirely my fault. You see, I'm Mr. Swingtime." Damian thumped his chest lightly with the palm of his hand. "I wanted to surprise Mauricio."
"Oh really." Danny's brows knitted together as his eyes narrowed.
Oh shit. He's none too happy.
"Danny, if my 3 o'clock didn't show, I'm going to run and grab a bite to eat. Do you want anything?" A man's voice bellowed from the hallway.
"Actually Mr. Morisey, you have a client here to see you now." Danny quickly replied, but his intent stare never wavered. "Mr. Morisey will see you now. First room on the right." Danny's icy gaze could cut Damian down as he pointed over his shoulder with his pencil.
"Don't worry about lunch, Mr. Morisey. I'll order you the usual." Danny's tone carried an unyielding spirit.
"No onions please. Thanks."
The voices flew past Damian from either direction as he proceeded down the hall. He stopped just outside the first door he came to. Mauricio Morisey, Maurice. No…Maury.
"Have you sent–"
"Mauricio Morisey. How the hell have you been?" Damian stepped into the doorway, catching Mauricio off guard.
"Never mind, Danny! He's here." Mauricio's voice lowered to a whisper. "Damian, what the fuck are you doing here?" He waved his hand as his face scrunched with confusion, motioning for Damian to close the door.
Damian eased the door shut behind him and walked to the massage table in the middle of the room. Mauricio sat on his rolling stool, wide-eyed.
Damian hopped up on the cushioned table and lay back with his hands behind his head. "What's wrong? Didn't you miss me, Maury? And why are you asking me why I'm here? You're a masseur, aren't you?"
"I know that look, Damian. And you're up to something." Mauricio's voice cracked.
"C'mon. What's wrong? I've missed you. It's been six months." Damian brought his arms down to his side and propped up on his elbows. "I've waited patiently to see you again."
"Six months? Already?" Understanding dawned on Mauricio's face. "Holy shit! That went by fast."
"Yeah, maybe for you. You weren't the one on probation." Damian chuckled. "So, did you miss me?"0
Mauricio stood and walked to Damian's side. He turned Damian's ball cap around backwards. "Hell yeah I missed you. You just scared the hell out of me though. I didn't want you to get in trouble for violating probation."
Damian recalled the agreement he had made with Mauricio at the time of his court order for probation. Since Mauricio was considered a known criminal due to a high school vandalism prank as a teenager, the risk of associating with him seemed irresponsible. Especially for a measly six months.
Damian took his cap off and handed it to Mauricio. "Set this on the counter?" He tipped his head and waved his capped, motioning to the nearest wall.
Mauricio grinned from ear to ear. He didn't set the cap on the counter as he was asked. He gently flung it, never leaving Damian's side.
"Yeah. You know what time it is, doncha?"
Mauricio put one hand on Damian's chest, pushing him to the flat of his back. With his other hand, he groped his own crotch. "I do know what time it is. The question is, do you?"
Mauricio rubbed his cock through the fabric of his lightweight scrubs. Damian's head rested on the table, giving him a perfect eye-level view of the swelling prick he'd waited six long months to taste, to feel again. Damian watched as Mauricio looped his thumb into the drawstrings, untying them with ease.
Desire rushed through Damian and suddenly he couldn’t undress quick enough. Within seconds, Damian was completely naked and his face was inches away from Mauricio’s full erection.
"Is this what you've been missing?"
---
Hmmm…I wonder what kind of massage Damian is going to get. Next week should prove to be quite interesting, huh? C'mon…the fun's not over yet. Hold my hand and we'll cyber jump to the other blogs and see what goodies the fellow orgiasts' came up with this week!
A day and a half had passed and no sign of Damian. Not even a phone call or a text. Mauricio was furious. He spent the entire weekend worried. He was either propped up in his bay window or pacing the floors of his uptown home. 
