It's funny to be writing a whole story about a girl who only said about six words to me. Her words weren't even that friendly. 'What are you waiting for, an invitation?' Actually pretty hostile.
I'd just finished the shopping. It was Sunday, and my wife had our two kids. One 14 months and the other 3 years, so both a bit of a handful, and I needed the break. I hate shopping any time, but shopping with kids - that's hell. A few hours without them, or any marital nagging, is bliss. It just shows you it's all about your reference points. Because a few years ago, about three to be exact, I'd have laughed if you'd told me I'd volunteer to be out gathering.
I'd just got the food into the car and the car on the road. And I hate it when people go slow at traffic lights. I was just five cars back from the lights. And this car in front of me was obviously in no hurry. Some black hatchback from a pizza shop. Not a chain one, something like Capers Pizza or Pizza Caper, in orange on the black paint. A few dings, the kind you get when you back into a pole or a street sign. I had plenty of time to look at it because when the lights went green they edged off super relaxed. At orange, instead of pushing through, they just cruised up and stopped. Five cars back and I didn't make it through the lights. I hate that - it's so damn inconsiderate.
When I rolled up behind them I gave them the glare. I've always wondered about how you can see the driver behind but not the driver in front through their rear-view. I was sure they were looking at me though. My death stare could have cut through their back windshield.
Then I saw about half her face in the side mirror. She was leaning on her hand, and one eye, her nose and part of her mouth were reflected back at me. She had very dark hair, hard to differentiate from the dark part of the mirror. But the contrast of her dark eyes and lips on her pale skin made it pretty easy to see her expressions.
She was lazily surveying me. Almost disinterested, but still, clearly sizing me up. I was probably still glaring but she didn't give a damn. Just raised her eyebrows, as if to say like 'what?' I must have changed my expression, she seemed to know I was looking at her. She just kept watching me.
Then all of a sudden she looks like she just made up her mind. I don't know how I could tell that, but I could. And she gives me this gesture. Like one eyebrow raised, and maybe a bit of head tick towards the car, like 'you interested?' Now that threw me.
'Like with you?' 'Me?' She sorta shrugged. And I thought about it. And a bit more. And I nodded, slowly. I don't know what the fuck I was thinking.
She gestured with her head towards her car again. I guess that meant 'sure', or I hope it did. Because when the lights went green, instead of turning towards my house I kept going behind her.
She was a pretty lazy driver too. No trouble to keep up. We wound our way out of the city centre into the suburbs and down a few wide streets into that newly developed part of town. All can-turf lawns. Very young street trees. Squarish-grey-bock houses in these miniature yards. I couldn't ever find her house again, they all look the same. She turned into her driveway and I edged in right behind her.
I waited until she got out. She only looked back at me once, then walked to the front door and opened it. I swear with her smart looks and dark cotton summer dress she could have been in a real-estate ad.
Then she held the screed door open, waiting. It was tense in my car. I took a deep breath. This isn't my every day. But who gets a chance like this every day? I got out of the car and went in.
Now, when I was driving behind her I was thinking this over, and you can't wait. If you wait, awkwardness sets in. And what do you think she's going to do, offer you a drink? Where're going from there? Meet the parents? I don't think so. That's game over. So I didn't let it happen.
I came through the door she was holding open. Then there was that pause I was just talking about. But I cut it off in half a second. I just went straight up and kissed her. Right on the mouth. Ferocious. Then we just went for it. Our lips mushing and slurping. It was pretty intense. I even tried some of that lapping you see in porn movies. Then a bit of tongue flicking, the trip of my tongue literally battling hers. I might have been putting it on too hard because she slowed down and bit my bottom lip. It wasn't too hard but it stopped me. Enough pressure for her to pull it out a little and look me in the eyes.
We were staring straight at each other. Pale cream skin. Aroused red lips. A frame of jet back hair to her shoulders and jet black eyebrows above her eyes. I don't know what she saw in mine, but I saw the abyss in hers. Ready to throw it all away. And there was such an intensity in them. Wide and shiny.
The moment broke. She let go of my lip and I turned her around. Both her hands on the wall in front. I knocked the door closed with my foot and knelt down, running my hands down from her hips, across her bottom and to the end of her dress. I hiked it up around her waist. She was wearing stockings, not those thigh high ones, but the ones that come right up. And over the top she had on a pair of lacy back panties. Now I don't get that, having the underpants on the outside, but its only something I've really thought about afterwards. At that moment I didn't really care - I just took the straight down to the floor.
I got back up and put my hands on her waist and ran them down to her hips. I kept going down her stockings with the back of my hands, so they wouldn't catch on my palms. Down her taught outer thighs, to the back of her knees, down her calves, to the top of her shoes. The texture was that heat you get with nylon, and full of static. I have this image of her shoes. Black patent leather. Just a little heal with a round toe and a simple ornamental buckle. Set off by being draped in her black lacy panties, complete with a shiny snail down the middle of them.
I ran my hands back up again, this time with both thumbs running up the inside of her legs. The stockings were catching a little, but not enough to stop me. I wasn't worried about making ladders anyway.
When I got to that delicate little bit where her butt met her legs, that sort of overhang, I reached into the fabric with my thumbs. I could feel the heat in there and see the camel toe shape when I stretched her stockings. With it outlined I moved my thumbs up so that they indented between each lip and pressed them in until the stockings gave way.
It was moist. I didn't go in too far, not past the first joint. Really just enough to put a hole in the nylon. Then I stretched it out and ripped a hole that exposed everything between both cheeks. She was beautiful. Not a hair until the very top, and then only a nick of a jet black landing strip. All creamy white skin. And so smooth.
I got those thumbs back in there again. Just the tips, my whole hands cupping the flesh on each side. She was pretty firm where the fingers squeezed into her buttock, soft where my palms met her thighs, and yielding where my thumbs dipped into her. I had to take a breath and savour the sensations.