Steve Grogan is an ongoing contributor to Writer to Writers. He has published several short stories on the site, which can be found on the main page under the heading “Steve Grogan’s fiction.” He has had several poems and short stories published over the years, some of which are available on Amazon. (See the announcement at the end of this post.)
He is the writer and creator of the ongoing, zombie, post-apocalyptic, Romero-meets-Dungeons-and-Dragons webcomic REDemption. Alternatively, Steve describes the comic by saying, “It is to zombie fiction what KILL BILL was to kung fu movies: everything I love about the genre housed under one roof and mixed with my voice.”
I had an apartment in downtown Troy, which is where I was born and raised. In my senior year of college, I had hoped to move to a place in Albany with some of my friends. However, they went ahead and committed to a place in Troy, and I had to make a fast decision. (They told me about the apartment on a Wednesday and needed an answer by Friday.) Initially I was unsure what to do, but then I decided to hop on the chance so I could finally experience what it was like to live on my own. Not with my mom, not in a dorm room, but TRULY on my own. I could always get a place in Albany later on if the opportunity came. Until then I would still dwell in my place of birth.
Lindsay and I went back to my place because we had two hours left together. It was approximately 9:30 by the time we got there. She and I went to my room, where our kissing and fondling resumed.
Our amorous activity had to be put on hold while Lindsay stepped out for a bathroom break. I stretched out on my bed and waited for her return. At this point, the light was on. When she came back, Lindsay shut the door. Before I knew it the light went out and she jumped on top of me.
Lindsay got right back into the rhythm of kissing me, with just one addition to the activities: she was now dry-humping me, grinding her sweet cunt into me while her tongue ravaged my throat.
“I’m coming!” she moaned.
“You’re so perfect,” I said, “so beautiful.”
“No I’m not,” she said when she was done. “I’m no good, no good at all.”
This kind of talk upset me, and I was determined to prove how wrong she was about herself.
I asked her to stand up, and she did. We started making out again, and I undressed her as we kissed. Soon we were both naked from the waist up. My hands eagerly explored her body, as if I were worshiping her.
“You see? Look at your body,” I whispered in her ear. “This body is gorgeous. You are gorgeous.”
She opened my pants and started stroking my cock it. I returned the favor by reaching into her jeans and rubbing her clit. Her baggy pants easily fell away from her body, and I took in the sight of her. So beautiful. Every part of her. Perfect. In my mind’s eye, I couldn’t see myself being with any other woman in this way.
Lindsay moved over to the bed. I stood behind her, my hard-on touching her thigh while I kissed the base of her neck. Then she bent over. Very gently I entered her from behind, slowly gaining speed until I was fucking her hard. She wanted me to finger her ass while I fucked her, so I did.
I got a little anxious and accidentally hurt her, which I knew when I heard her wince in pain. Lindsay begged for me to stop all sexual activity. Upset at myself for hurting her, I withdrew my softening cock.
We got dressed in silence. I apologized, and she mumbled an acceptance. The time was approximately quarter after ten. Almost time to go. I could see by the look on Lindsay’s face that something other than physical discomfort was bothering her.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, rubbing my hand up and down her back while delivering a swift kiss to her cheek.
“I’m worried I won’t make it home on time.” she said.
“Don’t worry,” I said, “because if we leave now you’ll be home with twenty minutes to spare.”
Her worry seemed to dissolve, and she kissed me. Then we went out to my car, and I drove her home. When we got to her house, I kissed her good night on her porch. I wanted to kiss her so hard that our lips fused together, but unfortunately the connection had to be broken. Still, I headed home feeling happier than I ever had in my life.
When I got back to my apartment, I went to my room and got the lock box out of my closet. I popped it open and studied the gun inside it. (For the record, it was a 9mm, the kind of gun favored by Chow Yun Fat in the movie The Killer.) I bought it shortly after moving into my apartment because the neighborhood had a high crime rate. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the lock on our front door was broken. We mentioned it to the landlord repeatedly, and yet we still came home day after day to a busted lock.
As far as I was concerned, the only alternative was to buy a gun. This meant I needed to practice, which I did faithfully every day.
The night of my first date with Lindsay was no different. I drove to a heavily wooded area that was only ten minutes outside of Troy, miles away from any pesky neighbors who would call the police if they heard gunshots.
I thought it was better to do target practice at night instead of during the day because there was no one else around, and also because my theory was that if I could hit a bull’s-eye in the dark, then I would probably be an even better shot in the light.
As I went out for target practice that night, I reflected on where things were going with Lindsay. It seemed like my life was finally on the right path. These were the days of perfection, the days of a wonderful love that I could see lasting forever.
Of course, no matter how well things are going for you, your life will always have a critic. Mine was no exception, and to my surprise, the most outspoken critic was the person who was supposed to be my best friend.
I’m speaking of Jeff, of course.
I called him the next day to tell him how great my evening with Lindsay was, and that was all it took. All he had to do was hear me talk once about how great things were going, and he went on a mocking rampage. He said Lindsay and I wouldn’t last long. My good old buddy, the same guy I had once called my “best friend for life,” who I described to others as the brother I never had, predicted I would dump Lindsay in less than a month.
“No way,” I told him. “This could be the woman I marry.”
“Ah you always say that,” Jeff replied. “You’ve got a revolving door for a heart.”
Little did he know how right he was. Lindsay and I would indeed come to an abrupt end, but no one…not even the almighty psychic Jeff…could have predicted the exact way in which this relationship came to its conclusion.
If you like what you have read and would like to purchase this serialized novel as one complete PDF, then please send $2 to Steve via PayPal: email@example.com
Also, don’t forget to check out his other writing at the following links below:
Author: Redemption Comics
Steve Grogan was born in the often-filmed city of Troy, NY. He has written in a variety of formats (novels, short stories, poems, screen and stage plays, blogs/articles) and genres (horror, science fiction, fantasy, mystery, drama).
Steve is also a father, a boyfriend, a musician, a fitness fanatic, and a martial artist. He has been studying Wing Chun Kung Fu since 1995, and he maintains a blog/YouTube channel that describe his training habits, epiphanies, and advancement. It also candidly discusses his stumbling blocks, such as his struggle with nutrition and mental health issues.
He is no relation to the New England Patriots quarterback from the 1980’s.