As usual, the air is thick with the vibration of anticipation as a I get up to leave. For a week Ann has been calling me at 5:30 in the morning to drive over and take a walk with her, as we work ourselves up towards getting in shape so that we can start running. It's early in the new year, the resolutions have yet to get stale. They will. Each day, for the past week, the mornings have been heavy with talk of the relationship she just ended with her 40-ish year old boyfriend - a man twice her age, with three children, three ex-wives and who showered her with gifts long enough to loosen her knees and take her virginity.
Now, the bloom is off the rose - hell, the friggin rose is dead - and Vince is revealed as the self-centered prick that he is (what kind of person spends two hours showering and brushing his hair to get ready to go to work at a home-improvement store?) With his incessant calls, check-ins, where are yous? and what are you doings? Life has become a mild form of prison, and it's back home for pretty, young Ann.
Though I know that we aren't the type to date or have a long term relationship, there's no use denying that Ann is an attractive young lady. With a refreshing casualness and tom boyishness, she dares the world to take her at face value, but she's hiding a very feminine body under her loose sweaters and jeans. She has an infectious smile and is fast to laugh - two qualities that are hard to find. And she laughs at my jokes - I can already feel my defenses weakening.
"OK, well, I have to get going," I say as I finish washing the last breakfast dish in the sink and place it in the small drying rack on the counter. I wash the last of the bits of uneaten food and soap suds down the drain and run the disposal to clean it out.
"Yeah, thanks for coming over."
"Sure, thanks for having me - your potatoes were good."
It's cold
, she had complained upon calling him this morning - there had been no walk.
You should come over
, she suggested,
we can make breakfast.
"The pancakes were great."
"Thanks, I'm glad you liked them." I can't help but notice her lips. She's got a great smile. I dry my hands on a dishtowel.
When she was together with Vince, we never talked. It was like the line was dead. But, within a week of her pulling the plug on their nine month fiasco which had seen them engaged and sharing an apartment, I had gotten an email from her that was one single line:
Hey, do you remember me?
Sure thing
, I had thought,
I wonder what she's been up to
. Little did I know that this recently virginal young lady had been learning the wonders of hand cuffs, body oils, cunnilingus and sex in hot tubs. So much for virginal. Not only that, but toss in intimate knowledge of strawberries, some shaving cream and a razor as well and you have a completely different young lady that the one I remembered. She had retained her candidness when discussing her sex life, hence I had become privy to a great number of what would usually be considered embarrassing tidbits of information. Including the one thing that she hadn't done. Vince hadn't pressured her on it and, she said, if he had really wanted her to, she would have been willing to try.
I turn to leave the kitchen and it is hard to avoid her eyes. They sparkle with good humor and mischief, that says she has an idea of the direction of my thoughts and a small smile curves her mouth. This morning was not spent in re-hashing her love life, but, as usual, the scent of sex-that-could-be still lingers intangibly in the air, we can feel the shadow of it lurking in the corners of our conversation.
I have yet to make a single advance towards her, nor she me, other than these daily meetings and what have become long, lazy conversations on the phone (at which time she often casually reveals that she is lying naked, alone in bed). Not a single kiss or caress. No hugs or hand holding. The knowing smiles and electric silences, however, are at an all time high.
And it is thus that we find ourselves as I prepare to leave. I walk through the dining room and into the living room. Suddenly, as we stop by the side of the couch, I can feel myself throbbing and tenting out my shorts. I don't know what has brought this on, perhaps it was those little smiles and knowing looks, but I have been hit, sledgehammer-wise by a freight train of desire. My pulse is racing and, for a moment, the room swims around me. I stumble sideways, reach a hand out and catch myself on Ann. Or rather, on Ann's very pleasant breasts, which she is hiding under her pajama top and a terrycloth robe.
Quickly, I take my hand away, but she grabs it and holds it there.
"What happened? Are you alright?" she asks, as if she weren't holding my hand to her chest. The color is high in her cheeks though, and that glitter in her eyes has turned into an inferno. The smile that always tugs on the corners of her mouth has taken on a distinctly nymphish quality and I no longer have any defenses at all. Stripped to the bone by a 19 year old girl.
Slowly and lightly, I circle the palm of my hand over her breast, I hear her breath catch just slightly and her hand pull mine in more firmly each time I stroke over her nipple. With my free hand, I raise my fingers to her mouth and trace the curves of her lips. There is no longer any disguising the hunger we both feel.
She leans into me, almost falls into my arms, and crushes her chest against me. As she arches backwards at the waist, I can feel myself press into her groin and hear her low moan and my body shudders in anticipation. Suddenly, I let her fall backward onto the couch. She let's out a small cry of surprise and then giggles.
"What was that for? I thought we were doing pretty good."
"We were, but in a second, we're going to be doing even better." I smile down at her. "Scoot forward, to the edge of the couch."
Her head is tilted back as she looks up at me, and the curve of her neck is grace defined in the flesh.
"You remember that thing you told me you haven't done?"
"Yeah." She looks a bit uncertain, somewhat apprehensive. The game has changed a bit.
I grab her hands and raise them to the buttons on my shorts. "Let's try it out," I suggest.
She hesitates a moment, thinking, and it's obvious to see that she's curious. Her hands seem to move of their own accord and, in a moment, she has freed me and my shorts are kicked aside. I'm not a big man, my ex says that I'm fairly average in length, but thick. I doubt Ann has been face to face with anyone and she studies me interestedly. She smiles and watches my dick dance and throb to the beat of my heart. She ducks her head and rubs her cheek along the underside. An electric current of sensation runs through my body and I can hear her intake of breath.
"It's so smooth," she whispers. She inhales deeply of my musky scent and ducks her head again, her tongue slightly extended and gently probes the tip with it. My heart throbs in response and it, in turn, jumps against her face. She lets out a squeak of surprise and giggles again.
"You like that?" she asks, the breath of her question washes hot over me and I desperately want to bury myself in her mouth. But I don't.
"Mmm, hmmm," I respond, simply enjoying the sight of this young lady exploring me with her tongue. I don't press her. I want her to get comfortable and familiar with me.
"What do I do?" she asks with the candor I have come to enjoy so much.
I think for a moment. "This time, you do nothing."
