"Sorry I'm late Bobby, goodbyes took forever. I'm nearly at your place now."
A quick glance at her text message, and I was back to frantic last-minute cleaning. Throw away the pizza box. Move the plates into the sink. Should I have jazz music playing when she gets here, or would that seem cliché? I decisively opt for the jazz, figuring the mad drums and trumpets might keep pace with my adrenaline and give me something to focus on besides my spiked hormone levels.
Lucy and I had been friends for years now, but never dated. That was likely why we could still have moments like these when she would come into town and ask to see me. She moved out of state years ago, and most of our friendship existed only through our cell phones. Even when we lived in the same state we'd find ourselves simply texting each other instead of hanging out, so seeing her in person now was a step into new territory. What would we do? I mean, I had an idea of what might happen, but it felt a bit cocky to just assume we'd have sex.
Sex was the thread the stitched its way through the heart of our friendship. It seeped its way into seemingly unrelated matters, leaving notable impressions in our conversations. We often knew more about each other's kinks than our intermittent partners would, despite only having ever hooked up once. It was wonderful, but brief, and on many occasions we would lament that it only happened that once.
Halfway through consolidating the trash cans scattered around the house, I heard Lucy knock at the door. As wild as the trumpets were soloing through my stereo, they no longer had any chance of keeping up with my internal energy now. I answered the door and was greeted with a "Sup, bitch?" I shook my head and laughed.
Lucy was wearing a soft looking t-shirt and a skirt that showed off her many tattoos. There were several additions that I hadn't seen before. "Your place looks nice. What have you been up to?" Pleased that my quick cleaning session didn't go unnoticed, I offered to grab her a beer and started a round of small talk. Work sucked, people are lame, things are fine. She sat down on the couch, and as I handed her a beer I noticed her shirt was allowing an exceptional amount of cleavage. I quickly sat down so I could concentrate on the conversation, but caught myself trying to get a better look several times when she wasn't looking.
Hanging out actually felt more organic this time than it had in our previous attempts. I was genuinely interested to hear about her day to day life in her town, and she asked me a bunch of questions about the things in my life I didn't take the time to go into detail over the phone. We had a bit more to drink, but only enough to loosen our laughter and allow us to speak more freely with one another. I made a quick lunch, and things were pretty awesome. As it so regularly would, the conversation veered into our sex lives. All roads lead to Rome, I believe the expression goes.
"So, any new ladies in your life?"
My pulse quickened as though my brain was already busy analyzing where this conversation might lead.
"Na, no new ladies. Though I do hear my roommates fucking from time to time, so I suppose there's that," I added sarcastically. "What about you?"
"Nope! No ladies, or guys. Just loving that single life in my apartment. Parties for days. Woo!"
"Go us," I added dryly.
We looked at each other. More than a moment passed. Then, quite suddenly, hands. Her hands at my back, and my hands at her neck and hip as I crawled on top of her, kissing and pressing our bodies together. I kissed and lightly bit her neck while she pulled at my shirt.
Moving up to her ear I asked, "Shall we try this again?"
"Fuck, yes," she breathed.
