Cut Through The Noise (Evans RP#1)

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Have you ever seen a woman who was a vision of perfection? One who made you pop a big erection? Chad Evans has found such a woman. In fact Chad has found three such woman, three women who thankfully know nothing about each other. First there's Sandy. She's the head chef at Ultra Nova Dojo, the facility where Evans trains in Brooklyn, New York. Sandy and Chad have been physically intimate on one occasion, but they are not officially considered an item. They are however good friends, good friends who maintain a sexual tension so thick that a Ginsu knife could not cut through it.

Next up there's Leanne. Leanne is a secretary who works in the WCF front office. She's also a Maggie Gyllenhaal lookalike, which makes her very appealing to any red-blooded American male. Lest we not forget that Bobby Cairo had a child out of wedlock with the real Ms. Gyllenhaal. Perhaps it should be understood that Chad is paying tribute to his mentor by pursuing this dazzling young lady? In addition to being an A-plus secretary who really knows how to get the job done, Leanne also supplies Chad with head and punani on a weekly basis, before, during and after WCF shows. She's a very giving young woman and Chad appreciates her generosity!

The most recent young lady to enter Chadwick's life is the lovely Holly. Holly and Chad met at a yoga class of all places, at a gym in Hartford where Evans frequently works out. Some would say that Holly bears a striking resemblance to Megan Fox, the highly lusted after star of Hollywood blockbuster Transformers. Chad and Holly have yet to consummate their relationship, but with any luck that's all about to change tonight. Tonight Chad and Holly are endeavoring upon their first romantic endeavor, a date in so many words.

For weeks ever since they first met Evans has dreamed so many dreams of Holly, dreams that made Chad cum into his blankets and tablecloths. In Chad's dreams Holly wore flowers in her hair and nothing else. That's right she was completely naked save for the roses, like Mena Suvari in Kevin Spacey's fantasy in American Beauty. What a sick, sick man young Chad has become, but who can blame him? Chad is a nice boy but he likes to get his rocks off, much like any creature with a penis.

Holly lives in the city, the city of Hartford that is. When Evans pulls up to Holly's house in his black Lexus LS, he checks his Rolex watch, that's right it's a real Rolex. The time has struck at a quarter past six in the PM, roughly fifteen minutes early for his date. Evans cannot contain his dirty thoughts as the time draws nearer, he licks his lips while the perversion races through his mind.

Chad snaps out of his trance long enough to check himself in the driver's side mirror, making sure that everything is straight, not a hair out of place or a booger on his face. Chad's bleached blond hair is slicked back, Pat Riley style. He checks his breath and then pops a mint into his mouth to be safe. Chad is dressed in his finest wears from head to toe. Black leather trench coat, black sport jacket, silk shirt and tie, cotton Dockers and a nifty pair of black loafers with matching socks. No underpants, Chad never wears underpants because they're too cumbersome.

Rather than honking the horn like an obnoxious boob, Chad retracts his cell phone from his jacket pocket and places a call to Holly, alerting her of his presence outside her home, though not in the creepy sense that it might sound.

Like any man Chad would like to skip ahead to the buck-naked ass-fucking portion of the evening, but it's not that simple. Let me give you some necessary background info. Holly is Dutch, her last name is Van Buren, thankfully no relation to the dreadful president. Here's why that's important. Holly is the daughter of a working class shoe cobbler, descendent of immigrants, a devout Christian and family man named Horace. The "house" from which Evans is picking Holly up is not a typical house. Holly lives in the apartment above her father's shoe store. Holly's father is old school, he takes no bullshit from anyone and he watches over his daughter like a hawk. Horace isn't a huge man, but he's built like a rock. He's also a tough son of a bitch. He fought in the war, back in Antigua. The dude's name is Horace, you gotta be tough with a name like Horace.

Before Chad can even be graced by the lovely Holly's presence, Chad must first pass Father Horace's smell test.

[/COLOR] "Thankfully I'm wearing the finest cologne that all of Denmark has to offer," Chad tells himself. Yet Chad will soon found out that it's not that kind of smell test. Chad locks up the Lexus and walks toward the father's shoppe, aptly named 'Best Foot Forward' according to the big display sign above the shoppe. The quaintness of the name causes Chad to let his guard down for a moment as he approaches the front door. Chad opens the door, takes a deep breath and confidently strides into the store. Chad's eyes pan around the shoppe until they find the counter, or more accurately the man who occupies the space behind the counter. The bells on the door cause the old man behind the counter to look up from his cobbling work on an old boot. Chad and the old man almost immediately lock eyes with each other. They immediately recognize each other as adversaries.

"I suppose that you're the man who is here to pick up my daughter?" Horace snorts with all the incredulity of a cantankerous, old crow.

Chad is steady on his feet, though he feels a bit of a frog in his throat. Chad would be lying if he said he wasn't nervous in this moment. "Yes sir, Mr. Van Buren. I consider it both an honor and a privilege to escort your daughter for a tasteful evening on the town. We plan to attend dinner at a fine Italian restaurant and enjoy casual conversation. It really means a lot to me that I have earned your approval, sir."

"Hold your horses, Charlie. You haven't earned anything from me yet," Horace snaps back at Chadwick.

"My-my name isn't Charlie, Mr. Van Buren. My name is Chad," Chad sheepishly stammers in reply, beads of sweat now forming on his brow.

Horace turns his attention back to his cobbling work, leaving Chad to stand there awkwardly. Despite Chad's obvious nervousness or perhaps because of it, Chad cannot help but admire this cranky, old man. Horace is a throwback to a different generation, a working class man who provides for wife and child through thick and thin economic times. It's certainly no surprise that Horace would be protective of his only daughter. Despite his age and the toll of his years of service, Horace is no slouch. He's no hunchbacked, old man ready to croak. For example Horace has a full head of hair, though it may be graying it's there in full. Horace is also built sturdy, like an old American truck or an old American horse. Horace is the type of workhouse who plows the fields all-day and still has enough energy to take you and the wife out for dinner and a show afterwards.

Chad worries that perhaps he's spending too much time admiring his date's father, so he turns his attention to the shelves in the shoppe that surround him. The shelves are stocked with many shoe-related goods, both modern and vintage. The merchandise on the shelf includes many styles and brands of shoes, boots, sneakers, heels, sandals and of course accessories such as shoe polish, shoe laces and socks. Yep it's pretty much the same layout that you would expect at any typical shoe store, but the crucial difference is that this shoe store also cobbles your shoes. We all know how painful it can be to walk around in uncobbled shoes.

Chad observes the single, old, tattered, worn-down boot that Horace is working on. Chad notes to himself that Horace has a seeming lack of other tasks surrounding him. That boot would seem to be the only item that currently occupies Horace's workspace, but of course Chad is merely speculating. He has no way of knowing for sure without asking. Chad is hesitant to interrupt Horace's work, but he's desperate to show some sign of intellect, personality, compassion, any sign of life to this cranky, old, shoe cobbling man. "Slow day?" Chad asks, nervously biting his bottom lip.

Horace looks up from his work and peers at Chad, a solemn expression on his face. "Everyday is a slow day in this economy. There's no work," Horace replies with an inflicted tone in his voice.

Chad notes the sign behind the counter, 'Shoes reserved for G.W. Bush' and the accompanying pair of men's loafers. Horace's words combined with this piece of imagery reminds Chad of the stark reality that we're currently living in. This dour mood is mercifully interrupted when Holly struts down the stairs into the store wearing a tight, sleeveless, low-cut, silver dress, showing plenty of cleavage and leg. Holly twirls when she enters the room, like a debutante entering a ballroom. Chad's eyes follow from Holly's beautiful face, down to her firm, supple buttocks and all the way down to her red pumps, which no doubt were cobbled by her father.

Horace is not exactly pleased by his daughter's choice of attire, but he grits his teeth and bears it. "Don't forget your jacket, Holly. It's cold out there," are the words of wisdom that Horace offers, almost a concession that his daughter is old enough to make her own decisions... but without completely letting go of his paternal instincts.

Holly kisses her father on his cheek and, with purse in hand, grabs her pea coat from the coat rack. Holly and Chad stroll hand in hand out of the shoppe. Chad looks back at Horace and winks at the old man, a smirk on his face, before walking out the door. Horace frowns like the jilted advocate that he is and angrily turns his attention back to his work, slamming the cobbling hammer against the bottom of the old boot.

Chad opens the passenger's side door of the Lexus for Holly and she sits down inside, seductively shimmying into the car one leg at a time. Chad dashes over to the driver's side and grabs a gift bag from the back seat, then sits down in the driver's seat. "You look absolutely lovely, my dear, and you smell as good as you look," Chad says to Holly in his most charming voice, placing kisses along her hand. "A lady so lovely as you deserves a gift to match," Chad smiles coyly as he hands the gift bag to Holly.

"A gift for me? Oh you're so sweet, Chad," Holly replies in her most unassuming, 'Aw shucks' voice. Holly sifts through the wrapping paper and pulls a bouquet of red roses from the bag. "They're beautiful, Chad, and they match my shoes," Holly gushes as she smells the roses. Holly kisses Chad on his lips, then slips him her tongue.

The kiss leaves Chad with heart a-flutter and hair mussed up, but he's not finished yet. "I'm glad that you like your gift, my dear Holly, but that's not all. Look there's more!" Chad lifts the bag closer so that Holly can look inside.

Holly sees the top of a clear plastic container and reaches inside the bag to pick it up. She pulls the container out of the bag to discover... that it's filled with mixed and assorted berries! "Wow, Chad... this is too perfect! I love berries!" Holly is now purring like a kitty cat... a sexy, seductive pussy.

Chad is beaming from ear to ear as he watches his girl enjoying the gifts that he gave her. "I know that you do and they're so much healthier than chocolates. A girl with your form and complexion deserves only the finest of fruits, my dear, straight from the tropics!" Chad and Holly embrace and kiss once again, very passionately, going so far as to fog up the windows in the Lexus. Fortunately the Lexus comes standard with auto-defrost on all windows, and thus Chad and Holly are able to safely depart for their destination: The fine Italian restaurant.

Ironically the name of this fine Italian restaurant is Fine Italian Restaurant, owned and operated by the family of late comedian and member of the Three Stooges, Larry Fine. Why would a non-Italian, Jewish family own an Italian restaurant? I don't know exactly, but it seemed like a good idea at the time. Regardless of ethnicity the restaurant is quite lovely, it truly brings an authentic Italian experience, from the live band that plays inside the restaurant to the columns that stand at the entrance of the building, resembling the columns of Ancient Rome. These columns are symbolic of the phallic fate that awaits Holly inside of Chad's pants... if he gets his way tonight.

The maître d' cheerfully seats Holly and Chad at their table, tucked away in the corner of the restaurant, away from any potential riff raff. Not that there would be any riff raff at such an establishment. That's precisely why you wait three months for a reservation and pay through the teeth for your food. Of course when you're connected in the way that Mr. Evans is connected (Vis-à-vis Ultra Nova Dojo/Bobby Cairo, etc.) waiting is not part of your vocabulary.

Anyway Chad and Holly are nestled away at their cozy, little table with the candlelight, the music and the flowers providing a wonderful atmosphere. Chad and Holly strike up a conversation about current events. After a few minutes their waiter courteously interrupts them to take their order, while also placing a plate of complimentary breadsticks on the table. Holly orders the shells, Chad orders the veal. Together they choose a bottle of Chianti to drink. The waiter very graciously writes down their order and then goes about his business, leaving Chad and Holly alone to chat again.

"In some parts of Italy the women stamp the grapes with their bare feet to make the wine," Holly says, a sparkle in her eye. "Isn't that wild, Chad?" Holly picks up a breadstick from the plate on the table and twirls her tongue around the tip of it.

Chad is totally entranced watching Holly until he feels something brush up against his thigh. "Is that Holly's foot under the table or is my napkin tied a little too tight?" Chad asks himself, while enjoying the sensation either way. Holly has kicked off her right shoe and slid her foot up Chad's leg, placing it in his lap. Holly smiles and then takes a big bite of the breadstick. Chad initially recoils in horror at the sight of this symbolic phallic decapitation until Holly smiles. That's when Chad relaxes a bit and unzips his fly. Holly slides her foot inside of Chad's fly, using her toes to coax little Chad to come out and play.

Little Chad grows big and strong. The soft, silky sole of Holly's foot feels so good now rubbing against Chad's manhood. While Holly is rubbing little Chad, big Chad strokes Holly's thigh with his hand, using his fingers to manipulate pressure points and bring her relief. Both Chad and Holly sigh contentedly. Chad is about to ask for the check when the waiter swings by the table with their food, placing the plates of food, wineglasses and the bottle of wine on the table in front of them. Holly retracts her foot from Chad's groin and slides it back into her red pump. Chad promptly zips up and thanks the waiter for the prompt service, though secretly wanting to kill the man for interrupting such a tender moment.

Chad pops open the cork and pours two glasses of wine. Holly and Chad raise their glasses and toast to love and family. In that spirit Holly regales Chad with tales about her family. Her mother the seamstress who designed her dress that she's wearing tonight, her father the cobbler who made the red pumps, no brothers or sisters, but a handful of cousins.

"You're an only child? I'm an only child too," Chad admits in a heart-warming moment of sharing and connecting. It must be the wine, am I right?

"It was rough not having any brothers and sisters to play with," Holly laments with a sad look in her eyes. "Especially on birthdays and Christmases."

"I know the feeling," Chad relates. "I've been through all those same feelings, all those years of wandering in the loneliness without feeling like I had someone to relate to. I suppose that's why I've spent so much of my life searching. I've tried to cut through the noise in this world and find my solace with a beautiful woman. My search is finally over, Holly. You are that woman that I've been searching for, the woman of my life." Holly and Chad gaze lovingly into each other's eyes. They draw closer... and kiss. All at once it feels like fireworks and bells and alarms are going off, these feelings are so strong, so intense.

"I've been waiting for my entire life to hear those words," Holly confesses, pouring her heart onto the table in front of Chad. Holly takes Chad's hands in hers and looks him deep into the eyes. "I want you to take me back to your place and prove your love for me."

Chad nods in understanding and signals for the waiter, "Check please!"

The two young lovebirds order their food to go, wrapped up in doggy bags. Chad pays for the order and the strapping, young couple go about their business, hopping into the Lexus and speeding back to Chad's log cabin high upon the Hartford hills. It's fair to say that at the present moment Chad, Holly and most others would not care about the fate of the Italian food, but here's the answer for those inquiring minds. The food has been expertly wrapped for it's own preservation and will be consumed after a night of passionate sex. Ah yes... sex. Here's the thing about sex. The man must not be dismissive of the woman's feelings. Such an ornate and delicate object must be strictly cared for, yet we as men must never lose sight of a simple fact. The fact is that at her core, deep down inside, that delicate object is one hard bitch. She's harder than granite, the granite that she makes you pop (not poop) inside your pants everytime you spy her tits and her bits.

Let us also not lose sight of the fact that this WCF forum is a family forum. With the recent rash of X-rated promos from such WCF superstars as Brad Kane and Logan, I think we've all had our fill of that sort of coarse, raucous dialog. In that spirit I'm going to keep things amorous yet discreet in describing the night of passion that Chad and Holly shared together. Let's just say that Chad fingered Holly's pussy and her ass, then he ate her out, killed her punani with his jackhammer, tapped her booty while she was screaming for more, then she gave him the best blowjob ever with her DSL's, he squirted some of the good shit onto her toes and thighs, and then he closed it out by squeezing his dick in between her boobs until he jizzed all over her chest, face and hair. He even got some into her mouth, nose and ears. By the end of the night this babe was fucked 16 or 17 ways from Sunday.

It seems that daddy's little girl isn't so innocent anymore. What would Holly's daddy say about all of this? The thought of Horace flipping out ceaselessly amuses Chad as he lies in bed next to Holly, sniffing her red panties and soaking in her juices. The Italian food? Oh yes the Italian food was consumed in bed while Chad and Holly watched the director's cut of Blue Velvet on the flat screen TV in Chad's master bed room. The wine? Let's just say that the wine led to more fornication than you can imagine and you can use your imagination from there.[/B][/CENTER]