CC's place was a lot like her; small, compact, with a lot of personality crammed into it.
Cynthia Chen's stuffed animals vied for space with the latest video equipment, her suped up laptop plastered with stickers from every concert she had ever been too. Her furniture was sparse, preferring to sit on the floor as she edited her columns for the weeklies and magazines she freelanced for. An entire wall was taken up by music, CDs stacked in order of band, genre or whatever other system she randomly felt like organizing it in.
One time she ordered them in geographic order, how close each band was based to her. Besides the room we were sitting in, there was only a kitchen and a bathroom. Her place was filled with the spicy scent of chicken curry that she had made for us "from scratch". Meaning she found a ready made pack she boiled all by herself she had called from the kitchen.
Right now her feet were wiggling in my lap as I tickled her soles. She laughed hysterically, trying to stop long enough to rise up to a sitting position and no doubt hit me but I wasn't giving her a chance. Her black eyes danced between amusement and the promise of swift and painful revenge.
"Stop...please!" she gasped, trying to free her ankles from my one hand. "I'm going to piss myself! Stop!"
I laughed evilly and went on. Like her apartment, her ankles were small and fit in on of my hands easily. I could have picked her up and swung her by her feet if I wanted to.
"Not until you say it!" I said running my nails down the soles of her feet making her go insane.
"Ok! Ok!" she conceded, tears streaming from her almond eyes.
Her Asian features smoothed out as I stopped tickling for the moment. Her ankles were hot and sweaty under my hand. Her bare legs no longer trembling as the last of the laughs left her, relaxing all the way up to her jean shorts. Her small breasts were still rising and falling rapidly on her chest, pressing their outline against her tee-shirt. Embarrassingly my cock filled with blood when I saw her nipples straining against the fabric.
When I shifted her feet away from my lap she must have thought I was going to start again because she nearly shrieked, saying "Alright, I've thought about it!"
"A lot...?" I asked leadingly.
"Not a lot. But something...you know, wondering what it would be like," she admitted a slight redness spreading across her skin.
I gave a perverse grin, saying "why don't you do something about it?"
She snorted. "oh yeah, sure! I'll just crawl under her desk during class and eat her out. Think she'll get the point then?"
"She" was a classmate ours at out college. Miranda was one of those girls you took one look at wanted to drag into a dark corner somewhere. CC and I both had a mini crush on her.
"Well, it's a little subtle," I mused. "But it might work."
We traded laughs about the absurdity of it for awhile before she said "you're pretty good at that."
It was only when she spoke that I realized I was rubbing my thumbs along her feet, massaging the arches and pressing into the soles gently. The pale skin of her feet slipped by under my fingers, soft and smooth.
I glanced at her shins, knees and thighs, drawling in a corny accent "I do what I can to please the ladies."
She giggled, relaxing under my hands. I quickly glanced at her. Her eyes had closed and her breathing deepened. Of course I found CC very attractive and, of course part two, had occasionally had less then pure thoughts about her but never actually tried anything with her and I was warring with myself now about whether I should.
CC and I had always skated the edge of a true relationship. Maybe both of us just didn't want to ruin a perfect friendship with sex. So seeming in a way to make up for not actually having it, we talked about it constantly. What we've done, what we want to do, who we want to do and telling each other every detail if any new sexual adventures do happen to either of us. But now, late at night at her house, close on a couch, some wall between us seemed to be fizzling and evaporating, dying a slow quiet and maybe even thankful death.
My hands worked without thought, moving along the planes of her leg, from foot to knee and back, working up to the firm milky thigh. Her breathing had deepened even more and redness was flushing her face. I was as hard as steel by this time.
'Don't even think,' I told myself, letting my hands move wherever they wanted. They travelled over her skin past her knees again, to her thigh, rubbing my fingers into the slack muscles there. The very tips skimmed along the inside, teasing the sensitive surface there. CC's breath caught for a moment, her pink lips falling open to let her breath slip out. Her left hand lifted from her side and moved upwards but stopped, her eyes opening like she had just caught herself doing something she knew she shouldn't.
When she opened her eyes they fell on the clock on the wall and she did a double take.
"Do you know its 3am?" she asked me, bewildered.
I jerked my head up and confirmed what she said. It was indeed 3am and my last train home was long gone.
"Where they hell did the time go?" I asked stunned. It seemed like we had just been eating dinner at eight ten minutes ago.