“Good evening,” I say, as you welcome me into your apartment. Tonight, you’ve invited me over to share a few drinks and conversation.
“I brought the wine,” I say.
“Merlot?” You ask, knowing my appreciation for what you consider just a step or two above bath water.
“No, this is a bottle of 1973 Yves St. Laurent Cabernet Sauvignon. I thought you might enjoy tasting something a little more mature for a change.” I smile at the double entendre, and smile even more as you realize what I just said. I am feeling rather mischievous tonight.
“Ha ha, very funny…” you say, and reach for the bottle to examine what I have brought. You seem satisfied with my choice, and you wander off towards the kitchen. I watch you as you go; your hips subtlety swaying with every step. You look exquisite. You are wearing your blue dress. I recall the first time I saw you in that dress, as you were walking up to the tents during The Lakes End. When I saw you then, you took my breath away. Not like this is the first time for that. The first time I saw you I was enraptured by your beauty. It’s more than just your outward appearance; it’s the way you carry yourself, the way that you are so decisive. I wonder how it is that you…
“Are you going to have a drink, or are you just going to stand there?” You snap me back to the present. I find that I daydream about you quite a bit.
“Thank you. So, what do you think?”
“It’s wonderful, even if it is a little old.” Ouch. You smile at me, and we make our way to the couch.
The hands on the clock and the level in the bottle both progress along in their appointed paths. We have been chattering on about everything and anything. We swap war stories, reveling in the freedom that we have found in our association. It is a good thing to have someone to vent to. It amuses you to no end to hear about my foibles from the past decade. But then I impress you from as I relate an experience to a Rumi poem.
“Just because I work with my hands doesn’t mean I don’t read the contemporary romantics,” I say with a slight harrumph. I can feel the warmth of the wine in my belly, and it gives me the courage to say things that I otherwise wouldn’t.
“It’s a damn shame you’re my boss, you know. That means I don’t have a chance with you.”
“That’s not why you don’t have a chance with me,” you shoot back with a gleam in your eye. “You don’t have a chance with me because you have never made a move. Am I supposed to read your mind and see if you are interested? I don’t play that game.” “But you told me that you didn’t want to hook up this summer!” DAMN!!! Is that all it would have taken?
“What was I supposed to say, ‘I sure do hope that someone throws me down and fucks me like they mean it?’ What kind of a slut would that make me? Besides, I didn’t know you.”
“And now you do. And I am interested. I have been able to think of nothing else but you ever since I saw you that first day in the office. I want you Renée. I want to show you how much I want you. I want you to be able to let me love you like I want to. I want to take you into my arms and make you feel your femininity, my body, and the beauty of this evening.” And with that, I kiss you. Long and hard. My heart is racing a mile a minute. And the best part is, YOU KISS BACK! You open your mouth to me, and I explore your lips, your tongue. I feel as if I am being nourished with your kiss. I run my hands thru your hair, grab hold, and pull your head back. With a subtle gasp, you yield to my touch and expose your supple neck to me. I run my tongue along your clavicle and up to the side of your neck where I sink my teeth into your soft flesh. You moan with pleasure, and look at me with longing.
“Bobby, let me…”
“I am taking you on a journey tonight. I want to explore you, and you will experience me. Now, you must let go.”
With an almost imperceptible nod, you accept my words. Deftly, I lift you into the air, spinning you around as we kiss yet again. I carry you into the bedroom, where I gently lay you down upon the soft mattress. I stand up, and gaze across your beauty. I begin to get lost in you again, but realize my place. I find your candles, and light them so you are now lit with only their soft glow. I pull from my pocket a silken scarf, and tie it across your eyes.
With the loss of your sight, you draw your knees up, but I softly take your ankle in my hand and guide your legs back down. Having long since removed your shoes, you are left in your stockings. I raise your right leg, and lift your dress to expose the porcelain skin of your upper thigh. I take your foot to my mouth, and gently suckle your toes. Your body reacts, and you relax into the situation. I remove your stocking, and again take your toes into my mouth and kiss and suck them one at a time. You moan. Then, I begin to work up higher. I kiss along the back side of your calf, and along the outer edge of your thigh. I lift your dress as I go until it can go no further. I sit you up, and kneeling behind you, I undo the zipper and slide the dress off your shoulders.
I draw my nails across your back, with just enough pressure to make to arch into me. Then I take them back up your sides, just grazing your beautiful breasts. I caress your shoulders, soothing away the trials of the day, intermingling soft kisses, then as I lay you back down. Your dress I leave dress bunched up around your waist. I draw my hands across your chest, inscribing soft circles around your bosoms and lean down to take a swelling pink nipple into my mouth. I flick my tongue along the base of your breast, and tease the tip while I gently bite down on you. All the while, my hands slowly explore the rest of you. My fingers trip down your arms, and I intertwine my fingers with yours. I go lower, kissing your stomach (and marvel at the result of your sit-ups). Inspired, I as well sit up, and I remove my clothing. (A tisket, a tasket…) Now both naked, I lower myself down to your womanhood. I inhale deeply, and savor the scent of you. I run my fingers across your neatly trimmed hair, and spread open your soft folds. I lick slowly at first, exploring you, and discover where you are the most sensitive. The taste of you is intoxicating. I lick you fully, and you writhe in ecstasy. I draw you onto my mouth, holding you tightly. I plunge my tongue deep within you.
