Pizza, Two Sauces, and Sex

My life had rolled downhill to who knows where. I desperately wanted interesting, meaningful work that was useful to the world, but in my small town, such things didn't exist. So, in short, I was an unemployed and lonely girl, grabbing at any opportunity to earn a penny and spending all my free time scouring job sites. Knowing this, my aunt Helen had been calling me all morning, begging me to fill in for a driver at her pizzeria. It wasn't my profile, but money is money, and I didn't know what else to do with myself anyway.

The orders were nonstop. I rushed back and forth from 10 AM to 9 PM, delivering probably a hundred boxes of pizza. The pay depended on the number of deliveries, and theoretically, some people left tips, so it wasn't all that bad. But the day was scorching and the constant contrast between the car's air conditioning and the blazing sun outside gave me a headache.

I thought a short white crop top that didn't even cover my belly button would save me from overheating. It probably did, but it didn't stop the sweat. The slightly damp fabric clung to my body, showcasing to the world the perky nipples of my small but neat and firm breasts. Yes, in weather like this, the fewer layers the better, so I wasn't wearing a bra underneath.

Whenever I'd ordered pizza myself, the drivers were always men. Okay, literally a couple of times they were women: one looked like a mom on maternity leave with a baby on her hip, and one, well, looked like she’d just come out of a bender. Maybe that’s why everyone was so surprised to see a beautiful young girl with a large thermal bag, a smile, and the automatic phrase: "Here is your pizza, enjoy your meal."

A delivery to the suburbs, a large house, and a crowd of—I don't know, probably high schoolers. They were probably celebrating exams or just partying. Rookies, they have no idea what awaits them in the future, heh. While I was pulling eight pizzas out of two bags, they offered a couple of times for me to hang out with them. I politely declined, citing the need to do my job. As I was leaving, I heard one of the guys say quite loudly: "Nice ass, I'd tap that."

I felt both flattered and disgusted. My butt really was nice! Toned, beautiful—as they say, something to grab onto and something to smack. And my short denim shorts emphasized my curves even more. But, damn, these guys were just kids with no boundaries. No, they weren't the ones who would be tapping me.

Next was an order to a rougher neighborhood, a sad-looking two-story house. A rusted car sat in the yard, kids playing tag around it. I had only one pizza in the thermal bag. The most primitive topping, no extra ingredients. The order was taken by a woman around forty, overweight. She was wearing a robe that looked as old as she was. As soon as the door closed, she started screaming at her husband for the whole house to hear:

"What, you like ones like that? I saw how you looked at her!"

I stopped to listen; the workday was coming to an end anyway, and there were no new orders yet. The screaming continued.

"You like young redheaded whores? Is that who you order to the sauna?"

"We only drink beer and steam, relaxing with the guys away from scenes like this," her husband said. I actually felt sorry for him after those words.

"Yeah, right, like I believe you. You even got hard! Go to your whores and don't come back!"

Something flew across the room and crashed. I hoped it wasn't the pizza. I was too curious about how this story would end, so I kept standing by the door, listening. Suddenly, the door started to open from the inside. In the two turns of the key in the lock, I couldn't come up with anything better than pretending something was wrong with the zipper on my bag and I couldn't close it.

A man walked out of the apartment with the pizza box in his hands and a large bag, most likely with his belongings. He paid no attention to me whatsoever, but his furious wife appeared right there: "There she is, sitting there, waiting for my hubby." And she immediately started screaming at his back: "Go on, go on, leave! You traded me for young whores!"

I couldn't say a thing. I just grabbed my bag and ran to the car, drove for literally a couple of minutes, pulled over to the shoulder, and cried. Today I had accidentally destroyed a family. A woman with a pile of complexes poured a bucket of insults on me, the man didn't stand up for me and just walked away silently, and worst of all, I was accused of something I had never done. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. And my headache got even worse.

I tried to stop the tears, but unsuccessfully—the passenger seat was littered with wet tissues. I wanted so badly to return to the very beginning of the day and refuse this gig, I wanted to wake up and have this all be just a terrible dream. But this was reality, and it couldn't be changed. The day was hopelessly ruined.

My phone chimed with a notification—a new order. I needed to go back to the pizzeria, pick up the box, and take it to a hungry customer. This was my last task for today. Do the job and go home. I managed to distract myself, stopped crying, gathered my strength, and drove to do my work.

A nice neighborhood, a new building, the courtyard filled with clean cars. Kids were swinging on swings and sliding down slides, moms with strollers walked along paved paths, and someone was reading a book on a bench under the light of a beautiful street lamp. I rang the intercom, went up in the elevator, saw an open door and a very familiar face greeting me.

We definitely hadn't studied or worked together. Maybe I’d seen him somewhere on the street in a crowd? No, definitely not in a crowd; this was someone more famous and special. I tried to remember where I knew him from as I took out his order: a large pizza with extra cheese, two salads, a dessert, a complimentary small pizza for such an expensive order, and... there should have been two sauces, which were missing. Damn it. Inattentive me, with my splitting headache, had left them at the pizzeria.

"I am so sorry, for some reason they didn't put the two sauces in. I'll mark it in the app right now, and they'll issue a refund and give you a promo code for a discount on your next order."

"No worries, it happens," he said and smiled.

I still couldn't remember where his face was familiar from. While I looked at the app, he looked at me, and looked rather with surprise—it's not every day a beautiful girl arrives with pizza.

In the hallway, my phone refused to catch a signal, so I couldn't process the refund.

"Stupid phone, won't catch a signal," I muttered under my breath.

"Surprisingly, it works perfectly in the elevator or anywhere inside the apartment, but in the hallway, yeah, it’s dead."

I looked toward the elevator as he invited me to step inside.

Aha! I realized who it was! On a table in the room lay a camera, next to it stood a couple of tripods, and I saw professional lighting. It was Frederick! He made YouTube videos about tech and gadgets, and he collaborated with a couple of local companies—that’s where I’d seen him! The thought immediately raced through my head that I’d have something to tell my friends: Wow, I delivered pizza to a famous person!

In any case, as soon as I indicated that the two sauces were missing from the order and got ready to press the big "Send" button, my phone immediately shut down—the battery died.

"Can I drive back and return with the two sauces right now?"

But I didn't want to go anywhere. This was my last order for today, and driving back to the pizzeria was almost to the other end of town. Back and forth, and an hour would be gone. It must have been noticeable in my tone.

"Oh come on, no worries, it happens. I added those two sauces just so the order total would be enough for the free pizza. I'm already ahead."

Precise calculation, simple attitude toward problems—I liked that.

"I'll charge my phone and mark everything later then. Enjoy your meal, thank you, and sorry for the delay. Everything is just going sideways today..."

"Yeah, I got so caught up working I didn't notice the emptiness in the fridge. Well, nothing terrible happened. Thank you, have a good evening."

"Goodbye. You too!"

Closing the door, he sang out: "Free promo co-o-ode." My mood improved abruptly, and even the headache receded. For some reason, I wanted to see him again. I didn't know how often he ordered pizza, and what difference did it make since I was here for only one day? So those forgotten two sauces were my only chance for a new meeting.

I put my phone on charge and raced straight back to the pizzeria. It was already dark, and there were few cars on the road, so the drive turned out to be fast and pleasant. Once there, I grabbed those two sauces and the promised discount promo code. Helen, my aunt and the owner of the establishment, said I had wild eyes. I don't know what she meant by that, but in her experience, no one was burning with desire to drive across the entire city at the end of a workday for the sake of a couple of sauces. In the car, I picked up my phone to recall the address, and at that moment, a notification popped up—a tip had come in for the last delivery. The first and only tip of the day. 20% of the order total. Nice.

I entered the building entrance along with other residents, went up to the right floor, and knocked on the apartment door. Frederick came out with a slice of pizza in his hand; he clearly wasn't expecting to see me, though more likely, he wasn't expecting anyone at all.

"Here are your two sauces and the promo co-o-ode," I sang out, too. "Oh, sorry."

"Unexpected. Wow! Thank you!"

"Decided to end my first and last day as a delivery driver with something pleasant."

"Wow, why the last?" He seemed genuinely curious.

"Oh, just a one-time gig while I look for what I want to do. I want something useful and interesting, like what you do!"

"Like what I do?"

"You make videos, right?"

"Yeah. Trying to make complex technology accessible to everyone. But so far, it's not going great..."

I felt awkward wasting his time, so I got nervous and decided to retreat.

"Oh, sorry to distract you from your business. Enjoy your meal, sorry about the sauce situation."

"No worries, it happens. So what would you like to do? I love giving advice!"

I hadn't expected such a turn, but I really wanted things to go exactly this way. Whether from nerves or joy, I couldn't say a word and just smiled.

"If you want, come in. I don't have any more work for today anyway. But I do have a second pizza and two sauces!"

And again, without words, just with a smile on my face, I walked into his spacious apartment, which seemed almost small because of all the tech. I undid the buckles on my sandals and followed him into the room.

"I'm Maria," I said awkwardly and uncertainly, extending my hand.

"Frederick. Nice to meet you," he said, shaking my hand and smiling. "Can we stick to first names?"

"Yeah, great!"

He gestured toward the living room, and I perched on the edge of a sleek leather sofa while he grabbed a slice of pizza. The room was a tech lover's paradise—monitors, cables, camera equipment—but somehow it felt cozy rather than cold.

"So," he said, settling into his desk chair and spinning to face me, "what brings a pizza delivery girl to my door at 9 PM on a weekday? Besides, you know, the pizza."

I laughed, surprised by how easy it was. "Honestly? Desperation. My aunt needed a driver, I needed money, and here we are."

"That bad, huh?"

"Let's just say my life plan didn't include 'deliver a hundred pizzas in scorching heat while questioning all my life choices.'"

He nodded thoughtfully, chewing. "I get that. I spent two years after college working a job I hated. Data entry. Eight hours a day of copying numbers from one spreadsheet to another. I used to fantasize about the building catching fire just so I'd have an excuse to leave early."

"That's dark."

"That's corporate life." He grinned. "But then I started making videos. Just stupid little reviews of gadgets I bought. Posted them online, didn't expect anything. And slowly, people started watching. It wasn't much, but it was mine, you know? Something I built."

I found myself leaning forward, genuinely curious. "And now you do it full-time?"

"Yeah, full-time. Well, sort of." He gestured at the studio setup around us. "A tech company hired me to be the face of their channel. They pay me to review gadgets, I get access to all this expensive gear, millions of subscribers watch my videos. Sounds like a dream, right?"

"It does."

"The catch is—none of it is actually mine. The channel belongs to them. The equipment belongs to them. Even my face, in a way, belongs to them." He looked around at his screens, his cameras, his carefully arranged studio corner. "I'm stuck here. Can't travel, can't take a break, can't do anything that isn't on-brand. Golden cage, you know?"

There was something vulnerable in the way he said it. This successful, put-together guy, admitting he felt stuck too. It made me feel less alone.

"Can I ask you something?" I said.

"Shoot."

"How did you know? That the videos were the right thing? That you should keep going even when no one was watching?"

He thought about it for a moment, really considered the question instead of giving a rehearsed answer.

"I didn't. I just... didn't have anything better to do. And it didn't feel like work. Even when I was tired, even when I got zero views, I wanted to make the next one. That's how I knew." He looked at me with sudden intensity. "What about you? What do you want to do? Not what you think you should do, not what pays the bills. What actually excites you? Come on, don't think, say the first thing that comes to mind!"

No one had ever asked me that before. Not like that—like my answer actually mattered.

"I'm good with animals," I felt ashamed saying such a trivial thing in front of such a successful person...

"Wonderful! That's so many options! You can volunteer at a shelter for homeless animals, you can start your own kennel and breed rare and valuable breeds, open a vet clinic..."

He thought for a moment and continued enthusiastically.

"You can become a pet photographer. It's hard to photograph an animal if you don't get along with it."

For any problem, he had a solution, even several at once, and each one better than the last. Frederick didn't earn his salary for nothing. And he had managed to make his life interesting and filled with meaning—that was exactly what I wanted for myself. How wonderful that I took this gig today, how great that I took the risk and drove back for those sauces. Even all the negativity that happened started to make sense! Without the fatigue and the headache, I wouldn't have forgotten the sauces, and none of this would have happened.

Lost in conversation, I lost track of time, and the wall clock was already showing past midnight. I didn't want to leave, and Frederick didn't seem to be in a hurry anywhere either. He talked more about his work—five years of building someone else's brand, the pressure of constant content, the fear that if he stopped for even a month, the algorithm would bury him and he'd be forgotten.

"Tea, water, Coke?" Frederick abruptly stopped his musings and asked about drinks.

"Oh, Coke, if possible."

"Add lime? It's tastier that way!"

"Sure! Never tried it like that."

He went to the kitchen with a wide smile and returned a minute later with two glasses of Coke with lime. It was damn delicious!

"I like the idea of a pet photographer," I said, feeling a bit more hopeful. "Maybe I'll borrow a camera from my parents. If they even remember where they put it."

"If they don't, we'll figure something out," he smiled. "You could invite yourself over to friends who have cats or dogs, publish the photos on social media... Someone will probably book a photo session eventually."

"You really think so?"

"You see, the main thing is to start and do something," Frederick said, his voice dropping a bit, losing that confident 'expert' edge. "I spent months just staring at my camera before I filmed my first review. I was terrified I'd look like an idiot. Most people stay in that 'territory of fear' forever. But if you just... screw up once, the world doesn't end. It's just data. One more way not to do it. The important thing is that you're not just 'Maria the delivery girl' in your head anymore."

My attempt to nod in agreement and take a sip of Coke at the same time ended with a black wet stain forming on my snow-white crop top.

"Oh, damn it!" I jumped up, the cold liquid soaking through to my skin.

"Bathroom's the first door on the right," Frederick said, rushing to grab some napkins.

I ran to the bathroom, stripped off the ruined top, and tried to rinse it under the tap. But the soda was stubborn, and the thin fabric was now completely translucent and dripping. I realized with a sink-full of regret that putting it back on was impossible. I looked in the mirror at my bare chest, my breath hitching. I grabbed a small, fluffy towel from the rack and held it against myself, unsure of what to do next.

A soft knock came at the door.

"Maria? You okay in there? I have a clean t-shirt if you want to swap."

I hesitated, then cracked the door open just an inch. Frederick stood there holding a grey oversized shirt. When our eyes met, the air in the small hallway seemed to thicken. I didn't take the shirt. Instead, I let the door open a bit wider, the towel barely covering the essentials.

"It... it's really stuck on there," I whispered, gesturing to the wet rag in the sink.

Frederick's gaze dropped to where the towel met the curve of my shoulder, then back to my eyes. The 'successful tech guy' was gone; in his place was a man who looked just as breathless as I felt.

"I think the top is a lost cause for tonight," he said, his voice husky.

I took a step toward him, the towel slipping just a fraction.

"Then I guess I'll need something else to wear."

I didn't wait for the shirt. I reached out and took his hand, placing it right over the center of the towel, over my heart.

"Like it?"

"Aaaah..." The confident charisma he'd had earlier was completely gone. "I like it very much."

He didn't need any more encouragement. He pushed the door open, stepped into the bathroom, and let the grey shirt fall to the floor. His hands replaced the towel, squeezing my breasts with a desperate, firm heat.

"You're beautiful," he whispered against my neck, his beard tickling my sensitive skin. "Absolutely beautiful."

Our lips merged in a passionate kiss, and his hands continued to caress my breasts. His beard pleasantly tickled my face.

Still kissing, we stumbled out of the bathroom and into the bedroom. Suddenly Frederick stopped and took a small step back; he carefully and intently examined my body from head to toe.

"You are perfect!" he said and confidently pushed me onto the bed.

"Aa-aah..." a moan escaped me.

We looked at each other with intense passion reading in our eyes.

I licked my lips. Frederick took off his t-shirt. He walked over to the bed and kissed my nipple, then the second one, squeezed both breasts, and kissed my tummy, then pulled off my shorts along with my panties. He smiled broadly as he looked at my smooth and neat pussy.

He licked my labia, spread them, and started licking inside. My tension was replaced by delight, a light shiver ran through my body, and a moan of pleasure escaped me again. I stopped holding back.

I threw my legs over his shoulders and clasped his head with my hands; meanwhile, he rhythmically moved his tongue over my labia, then my clitoris, then inserted his tongue inside me. Every moment brought me closer to the peak of pleasure; my moans only fired Frederick up more, and he picked up the pace. I felt a finger inside my vagina; at that moment it felt even better, and my body shivered again. He noticed my reaction and inserted a second finger, continuing to tease my clitoris with his tongue.

"Please, don't stop!" I managed to say through moans.

With the same tempo, he licked me and thrust with two fingers, his other hand caressing my tit, and I pressed his head to me harder and harder. Just a little more, mm-m-m-m...

I pushed him away and felt a powerful orgasm. My body trembled and writhed. I remember the sensation of a bright flash and a wave of pleasure spreading inside me to every corner of my body.

Frederick looked at me with delight and seemed to get genuine pleasure from contemplating my orgasming body.

"Your right leg shakes so cutely."

"Haha," I chuckled through the pleasure. "Let's see what will be shaking on you."

While I continued to come to my senses after the orgasm, he took off his jeans, pulled off his boxers, and lay on the bed next to me. We kissed again, this time with even greater passion. He stroked my body, and I reached his cock with my hand and caressed it. It was already in semi-combat readiness from the start and became fully hard in just a couple of my movements.

A slight curve, not huge and not small—the optimal size, trimmed pubic hair, and smooth balls. I wanted to taste him.

"Now it's my turn to make you feel good," I said and winked.

I slid down the bed a bit, settled between his legs, and lay on my stomach, bending my legs at the knees. In this position, a wonderful view opened up for him: my face, chest, waist, appetizing butt, and my delicate legs.

I wrapped my fingers around his shaft and stroked slowly, leaning in to run my tongue over his balls. Frederick shuddered and let out a soft moan. I traced a path upward—base to tip—savoring the heat of his skin, my warm breath teasing him along the way.

I lingered at the frenulum, flicking my tongue against that sensitive spot, then worked my way back down with soft kisses. One kiss on the shaft, then higher, then higher still. When I reached the head, I swirled my tongue around it, dipped into the slit, and finally took him into my mouth. I descended slowly, coating him with saliva, then pulled back to the tip before taking him deeper than before.

Frederick lay relaxed and receiving pleasure; I tried to be as gentle and attentive as possible so as not to accidentally graze him with my teeth.

His cock poked against my throat, and I persistently continued to descend lower and lower, wetting the entire shaft with saliva right to the very bottom. I came up, spit on his cock, and with a few movements of my hand distributed the saliva—now it was all wet and slippery. I kissed the head one more time, playfully licked the shaft a couple of times, and managed to abruptly take it whole; a second later I returned to the head, delivering pleasure with my lips.

"Yeah, baby, keep going," he said with delight.

I winked and continued to suck. I licked and kissed every millimeter of his cock, swallowed it completely, and sometimes just admired my saliva running down his shaft. I slapped my cheeks and tongue with it, inhaled the scent, and swallowed it down to the base again.

Suddenly his cock tensed up even more, and Frederick himself grabbed my hair with his hand and didn't let me release the cock from my mouth. Thick sperm filled my mouth, and a little even leaked through the corners of my lips. I licked all the remains off the cock, licked my lips, and swallowed everything. Then I crawled up and lay in an embrace with Frederick.

We lay silently and without action for several minutes until he broke the silence:

"I want only you to deliver pizza to me," he said and kissed me.

"I can come without the pizza," I tickled him in the crotch area in response.

"What are your plans for tomorrow? Will you stay?"

The wall clock was already showing half past one in the morning. I needed to return the car to my aunt at the pizzeria by seven AM so she could go for groceries and hand it over to the next driver. I wanted to stay, but even more, I wanted to get some sleep before tomorrow's—or rather today's—interview at the only company in town where I'd actually like to work. So I declined the offer.

"No, sorry, I need to return the car, and tomorrow is a tough day. I'll go."

"Okay," after these words he kissed me again.

We lay in silence for a couple more minutes, I got up, got dressed, we said goodbye, and I left.

It was only the next day that I realized we had forgotten to exchange contacts. So only I could arrange the next meeting, and what does "arrange" mean anyway—I could only show up without asking.

My interview went terribly. Behind the external image of an interesting company lay extremely boring, monotonous, and meaningless work that any programmer could automate in a couple of evenings. So I declined and went looking for gigs again.

After a day of wandering, I remembered Frederick's idea about being a pet photographer. It resonated in my memory with positivity. I don't know, either the idea is very good, or bright orgasms affect me that way. Why not try?

My parents gave me their camera, which was lying around uselessly; I created accounts on social media and dove headfirst into this adventure. But it wasn't as easy as Frederick made it sound. My first attempt at a friend's house was a disaster. Her cat, a grumpy ginger named Barnaby, refused to stay in one place for more than a second. Every photo I took was a blurry mess of orange fur. I tried to use a toy to get his attention, but he just hissed and hid under the sofa. By the end of the hour, I was sweaty, covered in cat hair, and ready to cry.

Maybe I'm just a delivery girl after all, I thought, staring at the useless device in my hands.

I didn't give up immediately, though. Next was my neighbor's beagle, Colonel Sniff. "He's a model!" she promised. The "model" spent the entire hour trying to hump my leg, and when I finally got him to sit still, he sneezed directly onto the lens. I spent the evening wiping off dog snot and looking at job vacancies for "Assistant Manager of Paper Clips" with tears in my eyes.

Maybe I was just a delivery girl.

But then I remembered Frederick. Not the confident "expert" version, but the man who admitted he was terrified of his first review. He said failure is just data. Okay. Data.

The data said I sucked at animal control.

So I spent three nights watching YouTube tutorials on animal psychology and shutter speeds. I went to the park and stalked stray cats like a maniac. I learned that if you blink slowly at a cat, it trusts you. I learned that holding a treat near the lens makes a dog look soulful, not hungry. I got scratched, I got muddy, and one old lady threatened to call the police because she thought I was stealing the ducks' souls.

But after a couple of weeks, my photos actually started to look like something. Real emotions, sharp focus. And then, finally, the first paid order appeared!

I took a taxi to the suburbs; a well-dressed woman in her fifties met me, we went into a large house, and I spent several hours taking photos of her pug. When I finished, she paid me and called a taxi.

Memories of the day I worked as a delivery driver surfaced in my head. If not for Frederick, I wouldn't have started a small business of my own right now, one that I like and that could theoretically feed me. We drove past the house where those high schoolers had allowed themselves to comment on my appearance that day. My thoughts looped on the phrase one of them had said: "I'd tap that."

Damn, no one had tapped me in a long time. After that night I hadn't been with anyone, and can a blowjob and cunnilingus really be called "tapping"? And before that time, oh, I don't even know, maybe a couple of years with no one at all. I got too carried away searching for myself and building a career that I completely bailed on any relationships. And meetings with friends turned more into business negotiations than friendly hangouts. But how I wanted to feel a man's cock inside me, ugh...

I told the taxi driver that my plans had changed:

"Excuse me, I need to go to a different place now. Can we drive to the city center, to the pizzeria?"

"Yes, but we are already heading in a different direction. It will cost more."

"No worries, how long will it take to get there?"

"About 10 minutes."

"Super! Thanks!"

I grabbed my smartphone, opened the app, ordered the most delicious pizza for pickup, and two cheese sauces.

We arrived, I asked the taxi driver to wait, picked up the already ready pizza, and gave him Frederick's address. The driver was unhappy that his car would now have crumbs and smell. I promised to leave a tip. Another 15 minutes later, we finally arrived. I paid, got out of the car, and started remembering the apartment number.

I remembered the floor and the number of apartments on the floor; there was a plaque with apartment numbers on the entrance. I rang the first one that fit the number—silence. The second one—someone else answered. The third one—hooray, it's him!!!

"Yes?"

"Delivery," I said timidly.

The door opened.

I went up in the elevator to the right floor, and just like last time, Frederick met me by the door. At first, bewilderment read on his face, literally screaming: "What delivery? I didn't order anything! Who are you anyway?" And in just a moment, it all changed to pleasant surprise.

"You wanted me to bring you pizza."

"Hi! But you said you could come without it."

"I took your advice, it worked out, and I decided to thank you with my first earnings."

"Wow! Happy for you! Come on in, hurry!"

Frederick was genuinely happy about my arrival, even if it was spontaneous. He took the pizza from me and carried it into the room. Meanwhile, I untied the laces on my sneakers.

"Oh, two sauces... hah!" He paused, looking at me with a mix of amusement and lingering disbelief. "You know, I actually thought I'd hallucinated you. One night, a philosophical conversation, sex, and then—poof. No number, no last name. I didn't think I'd see you again."

"I am so sorry," I said, feeling my cheeks flush. "I realized the next day that I didn't have your contact info. I felt like such an idiot. I wanted to see you again, but before that, I really wanted to apply your advice. I didn't want to show up as just a talker; I wanted to come back with a result. I just... I took a chance coming here today. I didn't want you to think I just used you and ran."

"Well, you brought pizza, so I think I can forgive you," he grinned, the tension breaking. "Come on, tell me what happened. What did you do this month? How did it go?" He was genuinely interested.

"Just like we decided back then, I borrowed a camera from my parents, asked friends to help with a portfolio, and today I had my first order for money!"

We went into the living room and settled exactly as last time: I perched on the leather sofa, and he spun his desk chair around to face me.

"Congratulations! That's awesome! Did you like it?"

"Yes! I really love animals, and this way I can cuddle them and get money for it!"

"Happy for you! Do you know what the most pleasant feeling is?"

"What?"

"When you give a person advice, they follow it, and everything works out for them."

"Wow!"

"Yes, exactly 'wow'! People usually ignore advice, and sometimes advice doesn't work. But with you and me, it's just bingo!"

While I told him about my adventures, we ate half the pizza.

"Tea, water, orange juice?" Frederick abruptly interrupted.

"Tea. Black. No sugar."

"One minute, coming right up!"

A couple of minutes later he returned with two large cups of tea.

"You know," he said mysteriously, "if you want something else today, just say so, no need to spill tea."

"Hahahaha! First I'll finish drinking tea, and then I'll finish on you."

Frederick responded to this only with a smile. I felt a little awkward. Who does he take me for? Does he think I throw myself at everyone like this?

"Fred, how are things with you?"

"Eh, Maria, so-so, to be honest..." the smile disappeared from his face.

"What happened?" I even got scared and worried.

"Oh, just a stupid story really. I spent the last five years building a career, focusing on work, lost friends, wasn't in any relationships, and now I realized I'm moving in the wrong direction. Wanted one thing, but arrived at another. And I don't know how to fix it."

"Wow! And what did you want initially?"

"More freedom. Yes, freedom."

I didn't answer and let him continue.

"You see, I dreamed of a job I could do from any point on the globe with a thin and light laptop, but in the end, without this cozy corner with a background, cameras, and professional light, I can't do anything. I'm anchored here by all this expensive gear—and it's not even mine, it belongs to the company. The channel isn't mine. The subscribers aren't mine. If they fire me tomorrow, I walk away with nothing. And I'm afraid that if I stop for even a month, the algorithm will bury me and I'll be forgotten. It turned into some kind of golden cage. I'm used to spending a certain amount, achieved success, and earn that necessary amount, but I feel like I'm just a slave to someone else's brand. I see you out there, struggling, sure, but you're building something new. I'm just maintaining a machine that's eating me alive."

"I understand you. And I'm sure you'll manage to handle this. Let me help you!"

"Why are you so sure?"

"Look around. None of this existed, and you created it. You helped me. You're not stupid, and therefore you'll cope."

"Thanks, I'll try."

"Your story starts exactly like mine. I also didn't give time to friends and bailed on relationships. I was searching for myself but couldn't find it until I met you. Maybe the answer shouldn't be sought within oneself, but in other people? Everything worked out for me when I found you."

"I haven't tried looking there. I see you've already finished your tea; do you suggest looking in you?"

"That's what I came here for. Come on, who can undress faster?"

Frederick winked and quickly and enthusiastically began to take off his shirt and jeans. I took off my hoodie; along with it came the t-shirt, and I took off the same denim shorts as last time. Underneath, I was wearing a black bra and matching panties. So we both ended up in just our underwear. Frederick took off his boxers and socks, and I reached to unfasten my bra.

"Leave it, don't take it off, please," Frederick stopped me abruptly. "I want to do it myself."

He walked up to me and touched my breasts with both hands; because of the push-up, they seemed bigger than they really were. We started kissing, he went to undo the clasps and handled it quite skillfully. In some places, the bra had pressed excessively on my body and left marks. Frederick ran his hand over the remaining marks and looked at me thoughtfully.

"You have such pale skin, pink nipples look so perfect on it, it contrasts with your emerald eyes and highlights the brightness of your red hair."

I didn't interrupt him.

"You smell like cherries. Even the most aerodynamic sports car would envy your curves."

His hands touched my entire body starting from my face and ending with my butt. These comparisons and observations seemed unusual to me, but extremely pleasant. I felt myself getting wet between my legs. His cock stood like a stake and pressed against my stomach.

"I want you to fuck me. Enter me."

Frederick took a condom from the bedside table, put it on, and started kissing me again. A moment later, he lifted my leg, bent down a little, and inserted his cock into me while standing. I was a bit shorter than him, so I stood on the toes of one foot and held onto his neck with my hands. We continued to kiss.

Then he turned me around, led me to the table, and pressed on my back so I would arch and lean against the tabletop. I was standing on tiptoes again; he held me by my hair and entered me. It seemed to me simultaneously rough and insanely pleasant. His cock slid along my wet pussy, delivering the pleasure I had dreamed of for so long.

He would spank me on the butt, squeeze or stroke my tits, pull my hair, and I just moaned with pleasure and asked him to continue, asked him to fuck me like a total slut.

Frederick practically imprinted me into the table and fucked my pussy fast and to the full length. He took my left leg and put it on the table. From the changed angle of penetration, it felt much better, and literally a couple of moments later my body began to shake—especially my right leg trembled violently, and I would have almost fallen if Frederick hadn't held me. He turned me around, hugged me tightly, and kissed me.

We flopped onto the bed, I sat on top of him. I moved up and down, riding his cock. At first slowly, then faster and faster. Frederick didn't move and watched with delight as my small breasts bounced. When my strength started to run out, he noticed and took the initiative into his own hands. With one confident movement, he rose himself and toppled me over—I ended up on my back with his cock in me and my legs around his hips.

He caressed my chest, and we kissed with breaks for a few breaths; the air ran out quickly from the rapid thrusts. Continuing to fuck me, Frederick sat up, took my feet, pulled off my socks, and interlaced his fingers between my toes.

It tickled a little, and apparently, that became the last drop of pleasure before a second orgasm. My back arched and my right leg trembled again, but because Frederick was holding it, it made my sensations even more intense. Now my whole body trembled, every piece of it, every muscle, every finger. I had never felt so good before. But Frederick didn't stop; he continued to fuck me and did it faster and harder. The wave of pleasure didn't end; vibrations and warmth spread throughout my body. A little more and I would have lost consciousness from delight, or so it seemed to me, but then Frederick pulled his cock out of me, took off the condom, and came copiously on my stomach.

We lay in an embrace again and were silent. Everything was understood without words, and after such sex, words are superfluous. I don't know how long it would have lasted, but my phone rang, and I was sure I needed to answer. Unknown number.

"Hello?"

"Hello! Maria? I was given your number, told that you photograph animals beautifully."

"Yes, hello, yes. Yes, I photograph."

The thick load on my tummy began to slide down and could drip onto the floor at any moment; I started collecting it with my finger and carrying it straight into my mouth.

"My cat is very sick, and we plan to put her to sleep. I want to keep her in memory as a happy and cheerful cat. Can you help?"

"Oh, I sympathize... Yes, I probably can."

I was discussing a photo session for a dying animal while standing absolutely naked with cum on my stomach, collecting and eating the remains of his seed.

"Can you come by tomorrow? How much will it cost?"

"Yes, tomorrow works. Would 4 PM be convenient?"

"Yes, great, let's do that. And what about the money? I want to withdraw the exact amount from the card right away."

"One hundred dollars," I wanted to name a much smaller amount, but courage woke up in me, plus I understood that getting happy shots of a suffering animal wouldn't be easy.

"Okay. I'll text you the address right now, thank you, waiting for you. Do you need anything else from me?"

"Agreed. No, only a good mood and your cat's favorite treats."

"Thank you. Waiting for you tomorrow then."

"Yes, okay, see you tomorrow, goodbye."

"Goodbye."

All this time Frederick watched me intently, and his cock rose again and became ready for continuation.

"You are a real business lady," and after a pause, he added, "and a bit of a slut. I mean that in a good way, if anything."

"Mmm-m-m-m, so that's what you are like!"

I sent the last drop of his cum into my mouth, got on my knees, and crawled to the bed.

"A slut, you say, good. Move to the edge and let your slut suck you off."

"No need to persuade me for that!"

His cock was waiting for a meeting with my lips: it stood like a stake, pulsed, and with its whole appearance beckoned me. Standing on my knees on the floor, I began to suck.

I licked him in all directions, kissed, and swallowed to the full length. Each time I lasted longer, and with each new deep throat, I was "losing my mind" more and more—what a delicious cock he has. My chest and his balls were covered in thick saliva flowing from my mouth. I wanted to give him unforgettable pleasure, and I included hands in the process: with one I massaged his balls, and with the other, I jerked his cock in time with the movements of my mouth. I accelerated more and more.

Frederick came literally a minute later, and I came along with him. His hot spunk splashed my face and chest, all mixed with saliva. I lay on the floor and tried to understand what had just happened.

"I came with you..." I said, not hiding the pleasure.

"Wow! That was... unexpected."

"Everything happening aroused me so much that I couldn't hold back."

"That's awesome!"

After a couple of minutes of silence, Frederick got up from the bed; I also rose from the floor.

"You need to wash up, come on, I'll give you a towel."

In the mirror, an arousing view awaited me. Mascara running, lips reddened from friction, and my whole body and face smeared in his seed and my saliva. The author of this beautiful picture stood nearby with a wide smile and looked now at me, now at his already fallen penis, which was still wet after my mouth.

"Okay, a towel won't do here," with these words he pointed me to the shower.

"Only if you get in with me!"

"So be it, I'll scratch your back!"

We no longer had the strength to continue the fun, so we calmly scrubbed each other with shower gel, not trying to make this process romantic or pleasant.

When we were washing off the remaining soap, Frederick stroked my body, once again noting the perfection of curves and the attractiveness of forms.

"Maria, how beautiful you are!"

"You also have something to brag about!" with these words I touched his cock.

"Your body drives me crazy, but that's not all..."

"And what else?" I interrupted him.

"You know what you want."

"And what do I want?" my surprise went off the scale.

"You want to feel... I don't know, real? You want your life to be yours. Not just some script written by society."

After these words, he hugged me and ran his hand down my back, stroked my butt, and slid his fingers into my pussy. Warm water poured from the shower onto my chest creating a little extra pleasure. Frederick moved his hand a little higher and traced a finger around my anal ring. My body reacted simultaneously with pleasure from new sensations and strong anxiety. Frederick felt this and stopped; instead, he gently kissed me.

"You were saying something about meaning and pleasure..." I tried to smooth over this awkwardness and return to communication.

"Yes... You know what you want and what you don't want."

"And what do you want?" I seized the initiative.

"I want... I want to ask you on a date!"

"Can our meetings be called dates?"

"No, I want us to go somewhere together, just the two of us, like people usually do, get to know each other better, have a fun time..."

"I'm all for it! But first help me wash the shower gel off my back," I answered and laughed.

We finished the water procedures, dried off, and ended up on the bed again. We didn't touch each other, didn't even look at each other, just lay and talked, examining the white void of the perfectly flat ceiling. And then I looked at the clock; it was already showing past midnight.

"Fred, you are the first person who didn't consider me a fool for refusing so many job offers and continuing to look for myself."

"I think 'fools' are just people who are too scared to look for what makes them happy. I was one of them for a long time."

"That's true... So what did you decide about yourself?"

"I feel like I'm close to the answer and that I'll like it. But not sure yet."

"Can I stay over tonight? It's already late, and no special plans for tomorrow. Maybe I'll help you find the answer." The last part came out very playfully.

"Only one condition," he was firm and serious.

"Which one?"

"You let me get some sleep!" he laughed, and I followed.

I kissed him, and we went to sleep.