For Anthony Pt 01

This story is for my new friend "Anthony", whom I've never met but like immensely. I'm imagining his appearance -- he may well look completely different to the placeholder that's formed in my brainpan. The female in the story goes unnamed, in part because while I'd love to be her, I simply hope that he is able to make this connection with someone someday. He's a good'un and I wish him all the best, no matter what.

The ice settled in his glass as he tapped it on the bar, and he waved the approaching bartender off with a frown. Maybe this wasn't such a hot idea. His wife didn't deserve to be cheated on, even if their relationship wasn't what it was before the kids. Even if sometimes the purported joys of family life were less than he'd hoped. Of course, he loved them but...

"Anthony."

The husky female voice behind him went straight to his groin.

"Soda with lime, please." The bartender nodded to the space behind him.

He could feel her warmth as she shimmied onto the next stool, saw her long dark hair as she turned to accept her drink.

"I'm glad you could make it." The eyes twinkling at him were the deep green he'd seen in her photos online. "And I'm glad I could too," she said, smiling.

He couldn't help but return a wry one of his own. "To be honest, I'm not sure I should be here."

She paused, then nodded. "I understand. Let's just talk a bit. It's been so much fun emailing with you, and I'm fine spending this time in perfectly platonic chitchat with my friend. No guilt necessary." She sipped her drink. "Your 'roads less travelled' feeling a bit murky?" she winked.

"I suppose so," he sighed.

"Well, you

are

a good man." She tipped her head, lips pursed. "Tell me how your work's going. You were slaving over a grant proposal last time we talked. How's that wrapping up?"

Over the following hours, they fell into increasingly easy conversation. Stories of hilarious mishaps on the job had them snorting with laughter, and the warm hand she laid often on his arm eased him. The year they'd spent emailing had shown him a woman in love with the world, who found something to treasure in every situation. It seemed to pour out of her now, enveloping him in curiosity and peace.

He sighed happily and leaned against the back of his stool, rubbing his neck. "I wish I could get one of those famous shoulder rubs you teased me with when we first met. Bending over paperwork this week has me all bound up."

"I don't see why not," she said, finishing her drink. She stood. "Come on up to mine. I'll get you sorted out. And I promise not to molest you below the belt." Her eyebrows waggled over a cheeky grin. "Unless you ask for it."

"You cheese!" he laughed, following her to the hotel elevator. He watched her wide hips swaying as she led the way, her hair shining down her back and over her bottom. It looked soft. Everything about her seemed soft and welcoming. He wondered how she would feel in his hands. Would it be so wrong after all to have a little taste of a different life? Just a nibble?

In her room, she looked around and spotted the ottoman. "Sit, get comfortable," she commanded, pointing to it. "Shirt on or off?" she asked. "I can do either, but if it's off, I have a massage oil I think you'd enjoy."

No contest there -- he got right to work unbuttoning while she dug the bottle from her bag and disappeared into the bath to fetch a towel. He sat to remove his shoes, then stripped off his tee.

She approached his lean form from the back, running an admiring hand over the muscles of his shoulders. "Rock climbing agrees with you, my friend. Point to where it's the worst?"

He indicated the areas, sitting upright as she requested. She poured a little of the spicy-scented oil in her hand and rubbed to warm it. Then, she got to work.

Her hands were strong as she made long soothing strokes over the tightness in his shoulders, neck, upper back and chest, her thumbs finding the knots in his muscles and digging at them till they smoothed away. His eyes drifted closed as he relaxed into her touch. He was unwinding, slowly... slowly...

"How are you feeling?" Her voice was low and breathy. "You're very nice to touch, you know."

"I have turned into a pool of warm Jell-o," he sighed. "Your hands..." He reached down behind him and found her legs, giving them a squeeze.

"Would you like me to do your head and face?" she asked, wiping her hands and his shoulders with the towel.

"We're risking death by relaxation here but I can't say no," he grumbled, then sighed again. "I'm all yours."

She flashed a wink and moved around to his front, stepping between his outstretched legs. Her finger moved under his chin to tip his head back a bit. "Close your eyes again."

She began with his scalp, massaging and scratching lightly through his dark blond curls. Her own spicy scent mixed with that of the oil as she moved closer. His eyes slit open as she rubbed his temples, then his brow ridge. He could see her generous chest inches from his mouth.

She'd sent a picture of her bare breasts once -- he knew they were full and heavy. Would they taste as delicious as she smelled? Her fingers were softening his jaw line under his stubble when he leaned forward and buried his face between them.

She gasped. Her fingers grasped his curls and pressed him deeper. He inhaled, his own hands coming up to the dip of her low back. "God, you smell good."

He raised his head to look at her, his pupils wide in hazel irises. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth -- and then between his and he was kissing her, tongue sliding along hers, tasting lime and mint. Her fingers tugged at his hair and she moaned softly into his mouth.

That set him off. He growled, moving his legs between hers and pulling her down onto his lap. One hand moved to the hem of her top and he striped it up and off her.

He kissed her hard, deeply, biting her lips, holding her head to his, then down her neck as he moved to unhook her bra. She panted under his touch, eyes closed in pleasure; holding on to his chest, kneading the muscle there. As soon as her bra was off, his hands were full of her breasts. They were large and heavy, soft, with pale areolas and hard nipples.

He squeezed, then bent his head and lapped at the tips with his tongue, sucking and biting as she bent back and cried out, "Anthony! Fuck, that's good." She was holding on to him, grasping him with arms and legs, her pelvis grinding into his without thought.

He felt himself getting hard, so hard. His balls started to ache. He kissed and sucked at the junction of her neck and collarbone and wanted more.

Did he want more? Did he dare?

Would he regret doing it? Or

not

doing it?

Could he step out of his life for a moment and take what was offered, this ripe fruit of a woman who was not a part of his world and never would be?

She had yanked his head back up to get at his mouth again when he pulled back.

She looked at him, green eyes wide and questioning. "Is this ok? Second thoughts?"

"Of a sort. Would you stand up for a moment?" he asked, helping her as they rose from the ottoman.

She crossed her arms over her bare chest, the tip of a finger in her teeth, watching him.

He stood, gazing back at her. After a moment, he undid his belt.

Her brows shot up. "Are you sure? This is true consent?"

His smile was crooked but wide.

He reached down and flicked the button of his jeans open.

___

To be continued... from her perspective.