The last rays of dusk had passed and the long shadows of darkness were settling themselves around the room as I sat on the couch and let the strains of my favorite CD wash over me. I drained the last dregs of my third glass of wine and shook my head cynically. Who would've ever believed I'd find myself drinking alone on Valentine's Day swept up in a morass of unresolved emotions over my failed relationship?
Truthfully, Valentine's Day had never ever been much of a big deal for me. Maybe I was just too much of a practical down-to-earth kind of girl. I'd always found it to be a day that typically raised all kinds of unrealistic expectations with the stores brimming with pink satin, red velvet hearts and love paraphernalia. And then of course, the biggest contradiction of all was the lingerie and chocolates! I mean, indulging in one meant steering well clear of the other.
Anyway, from my experience, most of the men I'd known hated buying that stuff, hated the pressure of having to make a big deal out of the day, hated having to play at being romantic over a delicately prepared dinner and being thoughtful on cue when they'd rather be eating a good steak, having a beer and getting down and dirty later. God, I sounded sour but I guess being alone on Valentine's Day after losing my lover two weeks back had probably brought an extra edge of bitterness to the whole hearts and candy affair.
I wiped the beginning of a tear away furiously. Enough was enough! No more pathetic whining and self pity. He was gone. The pain still cut like a sabre through me but it was over. I'd throw the shirts he'd left in the laundry basket out with the trash in the morning and move on with my life. Two weeks of grieving and moping about was enough, but I'd hoped the wine would help to bring some relief from the tension and angst I'd been feeling. It hadn't and I knew there was only one solution left. I needed to get off. An orgasm always relaxed me.
A fortnight without release was unusual for me but I'd not been in the mood. Every time the thought occurred to me, I'd be overwhelmed with the craving for his closeness, the warmth and heat as he slipped his hardness into me and the completion that always came with our coupling. He had walked away from what we had dammit, but I couldn't help still wanting him.
I headed for the bedroom and caught sight of myself in the mirror as I shrugged off my clothes. Despite my gloom I was still what would be considered pretty. Not exactly the type a model agency would sign up but my dark curly hair fell softly around my shoulders and when my eyes weren't red rimmed they were a deep green that sparkled when I laughed. I stripped off the blue jeans that clung to my long legs and mused at how lucky I was to still have a decent body given my tendency to occasionally binge on pizza and Chinese takeouts.
With my eyes closed, I lay on the bed and slowly began to stroke my breasts letting the tips of my fingertips tease the hardening nipples. Almost immediately dampness welled up in my pussy and I let my mind drift to a real nice place where I could believe that love and hope and passion were still there to reach for. Playing with my nipples was a sure fire way to get me aroused and I lowered my hand to the moistness between my thighs and stroked myself. Two fingers slid through the juice of my lust, parting the swollen pouty lips and dipped into the pooling wetness of my cunt.
In the background the phone rang and I plunged another finger inside myself. Whoever was calling could fucking wait, I was not letting go of this. Inside my pussy the three fingers stretching me were doing their work. I arched my back and thrust myself against my hand, imagining it was him. In the eye of my mind I could see his face just inches from mine, the fire in his eyes as he drove deeper and deeper into my pussy. A groan ripped from me as I recalled the way he panted with pleasure when my pussy clamped around him and he neared his moment, the smell of his musky maleness wetting my skin and the guttural sounds of his joy as he peaked.
God, I was almost there. Almost. Close. So close. The mountain of sensation grew, reaching for the peak that would burst in blissful joy. I panted as I felt my body shudder towards it. Sweat rolled down the cleavage of my breasts and the crack of my ass as I strained against my fingers that were relentlessly fucking the steaming cauldron between my thighs. The first rush of what would explode into ecstasy started somewhere in the pit of my belly and radiated out in hot waves pushing the breath from my body. I moaned and grunted rocking against my hand. My mind willed me on, frantic now on the edge of release.
The shrill sound of the phone echoed through the room shattering my concentration.
"Shit! Fuck!" I screamed in frustration as the peaking pleasure slipped from my grasp. "Oh God, nooo," I moaned as the muscles in my abdomen quivered with tension, still desperate for orgasm. It had always been so easy to come with him.
The ringing ceased and almost immediately started up again. I grabbed the phone off the bedside table.
"Yes, dammit!" My voice was muffled, still thick with desire.
"Christ, Lucy these are the most screwed up directions, you've ever given me," a strange male voice said. A note of irritation dripped from his tone, "I've been driving around for an hour and I still can't find your place. Care to-"
"Excuse me," I snapped, "There is no Lucy here. Never has been, never will be!" I was seething with annoyance and bordering on breathless rage. Whoever he was, he'd picked the wrong fucking minute to dial my number the first time he called and then he still had the gall to call again. I wanted to tell him his fucking fortune and then slam the phone down so loudly in his ear that it hurt. Asshole!
"Shit, I've got the wrong number, haven't I? She actually gave me the wrong number, I can't believe it!" I heard a loud thump and assumed he had slammed his hand down on the steering wheel. "Christ I should have known better than to get sucked in by her again. This is yet another one of her stupid mind games."
I swallowed my retort as I listened to him. Despite the cutting edge to his words, his voice was smooth and deep. "I'm sorry to have disturbed you," he said in a warm apologetic tone, "It sounded like I might have woken you."
I struggled to catch my breath. It was my turn to speak, to say something, to confirm that he had indeed dialed the wrong number and then to hang up, but inexplicably I didn't want to. The throbbing between my legs had intensified and my hand dipped into my pussy again. "It's okay, I wasn't sleeping," I said as I choked back a groan of pleasure.
"Yeah well I shouldn't have called anyway, even if it was her number," he said bitterly. "It was a stupid whim to have tried to see her, what with it being Valentine's Day and all."
I impaled myself on my fingers and let my thumb slide over my clit as he rattled on. God, his voice was so good, so masculine. I needed him to keep talking. I bit my lip to cover the purring sounds in my throat and shut my eyes to block out everything but his voice. The rich male baritone continued, "...anyway this has been a good wake up call for me. I should have read the signs a month ago when she left me saying that she needed space and moved in with a friend."
"A month ago huh?" I said my voice thick with arousal. "Too bad. Maybe she's with my boyfriend. He left two weeks ago."
"Hmmm, great month for relationships," he mused. "Like I said, I'm sorry for bothering you. I'm sure you've got more important things to do than listen to a stranger's sob story. Sounds like you have one of your own and I didn't mean to interrupt whatever it was you were doing."
I shifted on my bed trying to escape the pleas from my wetly stimulated body. It was time to hang up and finish what I had started, but there was this voice on the line that I somehow didn't want to let go. He was in much the same situation as I was; alone on Valentine's Day and still raw from the emotional aftermath of a broken relationship.
"Yeah," I said hoarsely, "I was thinking about him when you interrupted..." I couldn't believe I'd said it. It wasn't so much the words but the inference. He knew what I was talking about. I sensed he understood perfectly well what I'd been doing. The arousal in my voice must have been a dead giveaway. It was as loud and as clear as a cat's mating call.
He inhaled sharply, "Yeah, I know about those kinds of thoughts. I have them occasionally," he said softly. The loneliness and hunger screamed from his tone and struck a chord with me. At least we understood each other.
"I'm in Milner Drive, where are you now?" The words spilled from my lips as if they had a mind of their own.
"Kingsway Avenue. Why?" He'd asked the question, but I couldn't help but think it was rhetorical.
"That's two blocks away," I said huskily. "I'm in the third house from the corner if you want to stop by for coffee or something..." Jesus, what was I thinking; inviting a complete stranger into my home when coffee was the last thing on my mind. The throbbing heat between my legs had not cooled during our conversation. If anything the aching was more intense.
"I don't know," he answered drawing in an uneasy breath. "The way I'm feeling right now I probably won't be much of a conversationalist with a woman tonight. My intentions around seeing her this evening weren't exactly without selfish motive or even honorable..." He gave a wry laugh, "But I've got your number now, so maybe some other time?"