Lara Latex

Charlie's fuckin frustrated—no English in sight, locked out of his own building. Then Lara clocks him from the street, lets him through the door. They shoot the shit while the elevator's dead, so six flights it is. By the time they hit her floor they already know too much about each other. She drops the line like it's nothing: she needs a real BBC, 'something you don't see much of here.' Charlie hesitates—she's married and her man'll be walking in any minute. Her feet are killing her though, and Charlie starts rubbing them without thinking. From there it's a free fall: her legs spread on the couch, panties shoved aside, Charlie balls-deep and railing her like he's trying to break her spine. He's pounding, she's loud as hell, when suddenly the front door clicks and the husband strolls in with that cheerful, 'Honey! I'm home!'