What She Needed 2

We'd decided to meet at the restaurant. Weeks of innuendo and double-talk had culminated in this. You'd invited me here, daring me to take it further. I, not one to back down from any dare, had shown up.

I walked in, projecting cool confidence. I saw you, looked you in the eye, and smiled. As I sat down, I was vastly aware of my clitoris, hard and slightly irritating to me. You asked me if I wanted a drink.

"No," I said, "I'll just have a diet Pepsi."

Alcohol would have done nothing but dull my senses. I may have been cool on the outside, but on the inside I was nervous as hell, and I wanted to savor the feeling for all it was worth.

I continued my charade all through lunch. We kept the conversation to ordinary things, though truthfully I can't recall what was said. I wondered if you'd noticed that I'd only picked at my salad, but had gone through four glasses of diet Pepsi.

We both blinked in the bright light of the midday sun as we walked out of the restaurant.

"Would you like to take your car, or shall I drive?" you asked.

"You drive," I replied.

I didn't want anything as mundane as driving to distract me from my thoughts and take me out of the zone I was in. You walked to your nondescript sedan and opened the passenger door for me.

As I slipped past you to get in, you adeptly brushed the hair from my neck, whispered "I want you," and kissed me, right at the junction of my neck and shoulder, a little towards the back, the magic spot.

I felt the shock of the kiss course down my spine and explode. I barely realized I was falling until you caught me. Embarrassed at the tangle, I regained my footing and said, "I'm sorry."

You just smiled and said, "Don't worry about it," as you walked to the driver's side and got in.

Most of the short trip to your house was spent in silence. I didn’t mind the lack of conversation; I was much too busy being lost in my own thoughts and feelings. It dawned on me that all of my fantasies of you were now very much an impending reality, and what felt like a great chunk of nervousness took up residence in my stomach. When we arrived, you came around to my side, opened the door, and led me into the house. By this point my heart was pounding with such force that I wondered if you could hear it. The contrast between my secret anxiety and your absolute calmness was awesome, and excited me to no end.

Your house was rather dark, and I was glad of it. You led me straight into your bedroom and sat me on the edge of the bed. We didn't need words; all the words had already been spoken. The actions were all that remained.

You sat down beside me, unbuttoned my sleeveless blouse and slipped it off. I looked up at you and saw you watching me as I undid my bra and let it slip off to reveal my breasts. You knelt down and undid my shoes, and then slid my jeans and practical white cotton panties down over my hips, letting your fingers brush along my skin as you went. I became vastly aware of how wet I was, and considered for a moment the fate of your navy blue comforter.

Naked, I watched as you pulled off your shirt and shoes. Realizing you weren’t taking off your jeans, I felt distinctly exposed. You brushed the back of your hand against my arm and I jumped. You smiled at my sudden nervousness, as if you'd known it was really there all along and had waited until this moment to let me know you knew. You lifted my legs up and gently laid me across your bed. I could feel your eyes on me, and I felt vulnerable.

You began to touch me, and it seemed as if you were everywhere, but at the same time, never where I wanted you most. Then you lowered your mouth to my body, and kissed me all over. As you took one of my breasts into your mouth I could feel my womb clench, and as you moved down on me and kissed that place between my hip and center I struggled not to writhe. There was absolutely no hope for your comforter now.

You moved up between my legs, your body rubbing against me and giving me just the smallest taste of what I required. Your jeans rested against my clit, and I could feel that underneath the denim you were hard. You looked me in the face, and it was then that you noticed my silent tears.

"What's wrong?" you asked as you shifted off of me, looking concerned.

I tried to say "Nothing," but it came out half croak and half sob. I lost what little control I had left as my body shook with sudden unwanted grief. I didn't even know what I was grieving for.

You lifted me up into a sitting position and held me. I didn't have to cling to you. You held me and rocked me as my tears rolled down your chest, while I tried to make myself as small as possible. I didn't want you to see my face, so ugly from crying. I tried to talk, to apologize, but my words were incoherent, and you shushed me.

Finally, when I could speak, I blurted out, "I'm sorry. I've ruined it. Please don't be mad at me."

"Baby," you said as you continued to rock me, "I could never be mad at you."