It was so hot on the train the bare skin of their arms stuck together as they rocked on their seats. The air hot and heavy, stale in the carriage where they sat, the sweat sliding down their bodies like silver. He could smell her musk, which is exactly as he liked it, having made sure she came for him before they left the house. He loved how she came, the panting whimpers she made, the gush of the hot liquid into his mouth, the heavy clenching spasms of her cunt climaxing, the way she gripped something - anything - as she arched and quivered and gasped. The synthetic fabric of the short black dress he'd asked her to wear always seemed to magnify her smells and he could feel himself getting hard as he sat there and breathed her in.
She just kept surprising him. From the fateful first inane conversation in a chat room she had intrigued him, captured him. She intoxicated him and he knew he was totally addicted to her. As was she to him. They talked about everything, things they didn't even admit to themselves. Those first months on VoIP were the most intense he'd ever known with another person. He marvelled at her trust in him, so unexpected, but then, everything she did was unexpected.
And now here they were, a mere month after the first meeting. My god, he thought languidly, that first fuck was life-altering. The trust they'd built up, the trust she laid in him, it was all there. He'd managed to control himself until they got to the hotel. But it was in the elevator on the way up to their room that she took control of him. He knew she'd planned it that way, had manipulated him into taking her, but then again, the unexpectedness of her approach, the simple way she had done it, she surprised him. In the elevator, she just stood in front of him as they got in, her back to his chest, and she let her body almost touch his. Those ripe globes of her arse had just brushed his belt and that had been his undoing. She never touched him; he knew she would not initiate sex with him until her confidence grew. But that was all he needed.
New York was certainly a change for both of them. They had agreed to visit while she was in the States to see him, just to see if they wanted to move their together. Her career was her life and she saw advancement in New York. He loved that about her. She was incredible at what she did, truly gifted, powerful, and that made her sexy as hell to him. Because with him she was a little girl. And no one else would ever see that but him.
The subway was the only way to get around easily that they could see. Besides, they liked it. The creosote smell, the nasty vinyl seats, graffiti, body odour, homeless people. It was dirty and base, and no one would care about a couple groping each other on the train. It was one of his favourite past-times, and hers too. Even now, as overheated as they both were, his hand was sliding up her bare thigh, pushing her skirt up to dip his fingers between her sticky legs and tease her swollen sensitive clit with the tip of his finger. He felt the quiver of her muscles, the intake of breath, the parting of her knees that little bit further. What a delicious, lovely little slut.
She had gradually given herself to him. The past few months had been hard work for both of them. They had a lot of 'past' to go through with each other, many unpleasant moments that scarred them. She was petrified of the power he wielded over her, the deep need she felt to obey, to please him. But he knew she was happiest at those moments when he told her how she pleased him, how he loved her. She worried constantly at first that he would leave her, would fuck other women, would betray her, not love her. He struggled with her, reassured her constantly, worked on her slowly.
And the responsibility of this love between them was significant for him. He knew that, as much healing as he had assisted her to undertake, if he was to fulfill her fear that he would reject her in some way, it would all come crashing down. He wasn't just some guy to her, some fuck. He was her lover in all the senses of the word. She clung to him emotionally, at least for the time being. And he must look after her, be careful not to be what she still believed he was.
So, tonight he was taking her to a club. He could imagine what would go through her mind as she stepped into the thudding darkness, surrounded by those young sexy women. He knew she would despair, an inner struggle would grip her as she saw only those beautiful women and knew, knew, that he would leave her tonight for one of those sexy girls. He ached for her to see herself through his eyes, and the eyes of everyone else for that matter. She didn't look like a model, or an actress, or even a porn star. She was curvacious and pretty and her features were striking. Big doe-eyes of the most unusual colour dominated her face. He thought they were like the sea, changeable blue-green, steely when she was angered and bottomless when she gazed into his eyes, framed with the longest dark lashes. A full sensuous mouth and smooth skin gave her a look he couldn't put his finger on. She had a strong body, muscular with big gorgeous breasts and a round firm arse. She was, he supposed, like a short Amazon. And she certainly had a presence. She had an intellect like he had never encountered before. Piercing and fierce and unbelievably intuitive. She seemed to read his mind, which he still found un-nerving.
