Carpe Noctem

I rise late, having taken forever to fall asleep last night, playing our conversation over and over again in my mind rather than counting woolen mammals. Your call left me breathless, surprised. There was no point in reading the play for my drama class or working on Monday's presentation; there was only the thought of you coming into town this afternoon... finally.

After a quick brunch with friends, I return to my room to start getting ready for tonight. I flip through my closet, idling with the thought of going shopping for something new but realizing quickly that it will take too much time and I've got enough to choose from already. What would you like, I wonder. An appearance of innocence in an outfit imaginative, but unrevealing and suitable for work? Casual or dressy? Or an outfit more seductive and relatively revealing?

I page through my clothes, and decide to wear my best jean skirt, a dark blue affair that reaches to just above my knee in a flair. I'll compliment that with a peasant top of blue and brown design with crocheted ivory trim that ties in back. The sleeves are butterfly sleeves, which I love. It's one of those tops that Jami barely lets me leave the house in because it has such a deep V cut in front-this is why I wear pretty bras. After that's decided, I turn to my underwear drawer. I debate whether to wear a lace boy-short or a thong since neither will show a panty line, and settle on the lace since I like the look of it better, and therefore hope you will... although I realize that's faulty logic. Now, what color? Red seems too much; would black be too much? For that matter, would white work? Ivory would match the outfit... I'll do that.

Finally, I decide to go with nude stockings and an ivory colored garter belt. I've already done my nails in a luxurious dark red, and know that I'll wear my high heeled mahogany sandals. After I lay out tonight's outfit I dress in a towel and head for the shower, fully loaded with every tube and bottle of chemical concoctions I subscribe to.

Steaming water pours down on my back as I pull shampoo and conditioner through my hair, erasing the lather only to massage pure lemon juice into the strands-sticky now, but it'll be shiny and soft later. After I rinse out my hair and shave my legs, I wash generously with a raspberry bodywash. My hands begin to stray as my mind wanders, but I catch myself with a thought to what might come tonight. I drip my way back to my room and run curl-it through my hair to make my waves bouncier, and then I leave it to dry on its own.

Next, I massage lotion into my skin, from my neck and shoulders down to my ankles. I slip into the panties and bra I picked out, and look at myself in the mirror. Critical, I wonder if these will be seen tonight, and what your thoughts will be if they are. I know I'm not overtly fat or skinny, but this is the first time a man will be looking at me without all the dressing and covers-I can't help but be nervous. Of course, at the same time, there's a tingle of excitement that's growing greater with every moment that passes. Regardless of this anxiety, I know I'm ready for whatever comes to pass tonight, that I've been ready for quite some time now. I run my hands over the curves of my torso, my breasts and then my hips, luxuriating in the smooth feel and sheen that the lotion has provided. I finally attach my stockings to the garter belt and slip into my skirt. The shirt comes on last and I stretch backward to tie the ivory trim into a bow behind my back.

Looking down at myself, I see the peek of the blue bra's telling V that hints of lace with the knowledge that V stands for Victoria, and half smile to know that you'll be aware of my lingerie before dinner is even begun. I turn to the side and look over my profile. Just below my breasts, the tie accentuates the flat contour of my stomach, perfectly flat when I'm standing straight. The material's clingy enough to show off my figure, but not so much that a crease is shown where my skirt begins, or that the contour of my bra shows in back.

My gaze immediately slips down to the neckline-or, rather, breastline-of my top. From the side, a considerable part of the opposite breast is visible. The top would maybe be somewhat conservative if I had 36As or Bs instead of double Ds, but as it is the top is pulled down far enough to accommodate their spill, and therefore revealing to an extreme. Still, it's not so bad from the front, and my leather jacket will cover the side view until we're settled for whatever the night entails anyway. I smile with thoughts of what might come tonight, or at the very least, of what thoughts you'll entertain of me as the evening goes by. I'm perfectly satisfied with my appearance now that I'm dressed, and hope it will catch your fancy.

I put on just enough makeup to be noticed, focusing on just my sparkly mauve lipstick and some light blush. Clear mascara and Ralph Lauren perfume occupy me for a moment, and then I sit back to wait for the call that I know will be coming any time now since I've taken so long.

Rather than the phone, I get a knock on my half-open door. Turning from my computer, I see you peeking into my room and I smile in greeting. As soon as I stand and as we've barely said hello, I feel myself blush to see you taking me in, obviously and appreciatively, but I don't mind-even though I almost think I should, you're taking so long...

You sit in my desk chair for a few minutes while we chat and smile and look. You look like you've come from work, but not in a bad way; it's as if you changed into work clothes and came to see me, and I'm glad our outfits match in formality, if not dignity. I finally decide we need to go since I can't think of what to say every time I notice your gaze drifting lower than my eyes allow. We stand, and I grab my leather purse and jacket.

As I'm getting ready to lock the door, you ask if this is all I need for tonight. I simply look at you, a bit puzzled, and you mention, half embarrassed, that you'd expected I might stay with you at your hotel tonight, to hang out if nothing else, though I can tell you're thinking of the else when you say hanging out. I already know that I'm enjoying your presence enough that I'll want to be with you till you have to leave town, and so I ask you to give me just a moment.

You wait in the hall while I pack a quick bag that will last me through tomorrow. I throw in an extra skirt and blouse, a shell pink set of underwear identical to what I'm wearing now, and the random other makeup, toothpaste, and et cetera that's at my washstand, along with a pink lace camisole and a loose girlish pair of lavender sweatpants. As I come out the door, you lightly take the bag from me and slip your arm around my waist to rest on my hip as we move down the stairs. I simply giggle, completely undone already, and don't remember half of what we've said by the time we get to your rental car.

I direct you to a small dark tavern in old town, a place I've never been to but that my friends have recommended as perfect for a date and perfectly affordable. In the car we leave the radio off, talking randomly about movie previews, work, and the absence of significant others, a subject that seems to take the edge off of the fact that we're meeting each other for the first time, aside from phone time and net time. I can't help glancing at you every few moments, watching your profile, the way your lips move when you speak, and I wonder what it will feel like when we kiss, knowing that by the end of the night our lips will have met repeatedly.

I look away smiling whenever you look at me, and you mention that I haven't stopped blushing since you got here.

"How do you know I'm not just really bad at makeup?" I ask.

"You didn't turn red till you turned around and saw me."

I smile and look out the window so I don't miss the parking lot, enjoying the sound of your voice even more than I have on the phone. It's familiar, but somehow older, more symphonic in person... almost rumbly like Richard Gere's voice when he plays Lancelot in

First Knight

. I wonder how my voice sounds to you now, compared to what you're used to, but when you ask me what I'm thinking I simply smile and shake my head--"You?" I ask, and you reply that you'll tell me after you're a bit more sure I'm not gonna disappear on you. I just laugh, and then we're there.

The waiter shows us to a booth towards the back, dark and very taverny with an old lantern on the side of the table top. We sit together on the same side of the booth, you sliding in after me rather than taking the seat across the way. "I like this side, too," you say, and I glance up at you with a smile in response, shaking my head and chuckling under my breath.

You order for both of us, Margaritas and the special the waiter mentioned when he sat us. Before our drinks arrive we're chatting like best friends, but anyone could see we're on our way to being more than innocent friends. Sitting as close as is realistic, your arm is around the back of my shoulders, your hand fiddling with my sleeve while we both sip our drinks. The restaurant is crowded and the service what's to be expected on a Saturday night in a downtown area.

After a bit, your hand wanders from your drink... beneath the table and over to my leg. I jump at your touch, but giggle and don't discourage you. Our conversation goes on as if nothing else is going on to distract us as we share random trivia about our work weeks and the characters we've had to deal with. Your fingers stroke my knee for a few moments before slipping under the edge of my skirt. I look up to whisper that someone will see, but your lips are already there, murmuring a quietly insistent question.

"Can you tell how hard you're making me, Mary?"

I let out a quick breath, surprised at your courage in a restaurant and as taken aback as I've been on the phone in the past. Looking down to avoid the laughter I know I'll find in your eyes, I inadvertently look to the obvious outcropping in your dress pants and quickly glance back up at you in embarrassment. I shake my head, laughing silently as you pull back some to look down at me and softly mention that you like the color of my bra, just as your fingers reach the side clasp of my garter belt.

Before I can say a word, you've unhooked both of the inside clasps on my stockings.

And our meals arrive. Looking at you in disbelief as we begin to eat, I mention that now my stockings will be uneven with only the inside clasps undone.

"I guess you'll just have to take them off before we leave." You shrug with a smile.

I laugh shakily as we continue our meal, the scene we'd begun ended for the moment as we enjoy a second drink and each other's conversation over a delicious meal.

We leave the restaurant an hour or so later, just as full darkness is beginning to set in, my stockings now in my purse. Your arm around my waist, I'm amazingly conscious of the feel of your hand on my hip, light and possessive. I lean into you as we walk to the car, relaxing and enjoying the luxury of having a handsome man whom I enjoy being with this much walking with me, and enjoying my company as a girl rather than as simply a companion. When we reach the car, you stay by my side as we reach the passenger door and lean into me until I'm pressed lightly between you and the car, your gaze heavy and seductive on my own.

Your lips touch mine for the first time slowly, but grow more insistent as my own respond and open willingly to your own. The kiss goes on for a few moments until a passing group of kids from the university begin whistling and break us back into the open air of downtown. I catch my breath as you open the door for me and I slide in.

"Do you want me to take you home?" you ask half heartedly, and I simply look at you, half laughing and half scared.

"What do you think?" I ask.

"I hope not, but..."

I stop you with a shake of my head and say I'd love to spend the rest of the night with you. A moment later, I begin to qualify the statement, but you already understand.

"I know, I know, Mary. We'll go as far as you're comfortable with. Just tell me when we need to stop and we'll just relax, alright?"

I smile and say okay. We're silent on the ride, both of us lost in thought I have to guess, and it's hard for me to believe that all of this talking and chatting actually led to our meeting in real life, right now... and now we're headed to your hotel. I've thought about it enough, I know; that didn't mean I really expected it to happen.

When we get to the hotel, we reach your room in what seems like a moment. I'm suddenly uncomfortable and wonder if I know even half of what I'm getting myself into. I've already discovered that this night's meeting has introduced the possibility of my ending up with another broken heart if you disappear out of my life now. I'm terrified of disappointing you.

You open the door to your room and look at me questioningly; I attempt a light smile and go in with you, letting you slip the coat from my shoulders to rest it in an armchair. You adjust the heat and then turn to me. We look at each other, and I guess you can see I'm nervous.

"Having second thoughts about coming?" you ask.

I shake my head. "Not really, I'm glad I came; I'm just nervous-I told you I would be!" I laugh.

"Here, come sit," you say, and pat the bed beside where you've just relaxed against the headboard. I smile and slide up beside you. We talk alternately for a while, laughing and relaxing, happy in each other's company. Eventually, there's a silence. I can feel the sexual tension between us more than I've ever felt it with another man, but when you finally lean in to kiss me, I know everything is going to be perfect. I was afraid there'd be no chemistry between us, once we actually met, but it was the last thing I should have worried over.

You dim the light beside the bed, and we kiss. Our lips explore each other's lips, slight gasps coming from my own when you move lower and I feel your lips on my neck. Your fingers run through my hair, and then over the contour of my breasts and my nipples that now protrude through two layers of fabric, your touch eliciting gasps of pleasure and surprise from my lips around your own. My own hands explore your arms, your shoulders, your face, your chest, wandering over foreign contours and exploring curves and ridges I've seen but never felt, lingering on the back of your neck and the sides of your chest when you freeze me for moments with small movements that I wouldn't before have guessed could make my body respond in the things I'm now feeling.

When you break away for a moment and take a breath, I suddenly realize what we're both thinking of-the action that we've joked over and alluded to for months in conversation. Your eyebrows raise quizzically and I half nod, moving back. You tell me to wait. Your hands reach behind my back and find the ivory bow I tied what seems like a lifetime ago. The bow undone, you pull the elastic shirt over my head and sit in front of me taking me in.

My breath is coming heavier, my breasts moving faster and my whole body flushed as your eyes roam over me and your hands move over my breasts, around and just under the rim of my bra although plenty's already exposed. I let out my breath, looking for something in your face, whether that something is laughter or approval or a simple smile I'm not sure. You say nothing, a look of content expectance tempered by excitement on your face, as your hands take my hips and guide me to stand, slowly undoing the belt of my skirt and slipping it over my hips until I stand before you, undressed but for the lacy undergarments that you're the first man to see me attired in. I look down, but your voice catches me and I raise my eyes to your own, your hands still resting on my hips.

"You're beautiful," you say, and I just shake my head at the desire in your voice, confounded as to what you see before you that I never do. I reach over while you're still looking at me and begin unbuttoning the top buttons of your dress shirt, pulling it apart as it loosens to reveal the undershirt you wear below. You finish for me, amused at my nervous fingers, and remove both your shirts more expertly and with less ado than it took me for four buttons. I laugh and kneel down in front of you, resting my arms and chin on your knees, half avoiding looking at what's directly in front of me, though I desperately want to.

You take care of the formality for me, simply undoing your pants without taking your eyes off of my face. I bite my lip, both embarrassed and excited, but ridiculously nervous considering the things I've thought, written, and even spoken to you about in the past. When you loose your cock from your pants and boxers, I've no longer the choice of training my gaze to your own or of looking anywhere but at the subject of my attention. I'm transfixed by what I've never seen before in person, and I reach to touch you without thinking about what I'm doing. Whether my movements are instinctive or simply trained by random episodes in books I've read, I don't know, but your husky laugh cuts short when my fingers trace your length and move over you in a fascinated inquiry of the possible and probable.

You scoot forward from the bed as my lips move to accept you, my eyes closing at the touch of my tongue to your head as I hear you murmur something which I've only half heard. Your right hand rests on my shoulder and your left on the back of my head as you half guide, half accept my movements. I trace my tongue lightly up the side length of your cock and then relax my lips in an open kiss along the top and then the other side, wetting you entirely with my moist anxious lips and trembling at the idea and the feelings of what I'm finally experiencing with you.

My hands run over you, tracing the feel of your cock, your thighs, your hips in front of me, settling to touch and explore what my lips are not at at any particular moment. You half gasp my name after a few minutes and your hands guide my lips to your full head where a drop of liquid rests on the tip. I take you into my mouth, first hesitantly and then more comfortably, letting your hands and your words guide my actions.

"It's alright, Mary, slowly...right...yes...relax...relax..." you murmur words of direction, of guidance as I attempt to take you fully into my mouth and move my tongue gently, worried all the time of what you're feeling, what I'm doing, but all but lost in the sensations myself. You move gently back and forth between my lips, whispering encouragement and sounds of pleasure that echo the sighs that escape my lips around your full organ. Eventually, I feel you begin moving faster, pulsing and filling my mouth even more fully although I'd not thought it possible. You slide back a fraction and guide my head back from you just as you spurt against my face, my cheeks, my neck, my breasts in gasps and violent intakes of breath.

I look up at you, curious, half smiling, wondering what your reaction is to me and if I did alright, trembling with the feel of the warm moist spots you've left on my skin. I reach up to touch my own cheek and the moisture there, but your hand stops me, your gaze resting on me. I look down and half laugh at what I think you must find a ridiculous sight, but you pull me up beside you and begin kissing me again, reassuring me in appearance and action both. Your hands skim along my skin, wiping at your cum, and one of your fingers comes up, prods at my mouth, and slips in so that I can suck it from your fingers. Again and again, my eyes closed, I accept your fingertips and suck, listening to you sigh until our lips our back together, your hands pulling me closer, and closer still.