It was a clear, cold, quiet night just after Christmas. I was waiting impatiently for Stephen, a fellow teacher, to stop by my house to finish a report we had to do for the school budget. Normally I would have been nervous with anticipation- it had been a long time since I had been with a man and Stephen was just what I needed. Not a stud, but definitely my type- tall, broadshouldered, not skinny but not fat, always in need of a haircut and with a lopsided grin that reminded me of a little boy. Although in his thirties, he still dressed in a college boy's button-downs and khakis and always looked a little rumpled.
This year, though, I had resolved to stop pining for men who were unavailable, and Stephen had made it clear to the faculty (mostly horny single women like me) that he was too devastated by a divorce to be interested in us. Not much good to me, I thought as I surveyed my reflection and assessed myself. Just past 30, good shape- 34C, with a waist that went in and hips that went out, midlength dark blonde hair, grey eyes, and great legs, if I said so myself- it was the one feature I was always happy with. Still, much good it did me with Stephen. I sighed and turned away from the mirror, wondering why I bothered with a short skirt and tight sweater, and reminded myself I was dressed to please myself, not some divorce-burned coworker.
When he appeared at the door, I had to smile. Stephen's grin always had that effect on me. He handed me a bottle of wine. "Might as well make the budget report as painless as possible," he said. I gestured him to the couch and opened the wine as he spread the papers on the coffeetable.
An hour later, the work was done. "That was easier than I thought," he said. "Well, the wine must have sped things along," I replied as I held up the bottle and noticed we had emptied it. He caught my wince as I began to gather the papers. "What's wrong?" he frowned. I smiled ruefully and rubbed my shoulder. "A little too much holiday decorating," I said, "I pulled a muscle and it hasn't quite recovered."
"Let me see what I can do." He slid across the couch and turned me away from him, massaging the joint with his thumbs. Damn, I thought as my shoulder melted under his touch. Why can't he use those skills on the rest of me?
"Better?" he asked after a few minutes. I opened my eyes, not realizing I had shut them, or that I had leaned my body back against him. "Mmmhmm" I said, embarrassed. I noticed he didn't pull away. In fact, I felt his breath on my shoulder as his fingers slowed down. I let out a sigh when his lips touched my neck.
I was afraid to move in case this was all a mistake, but as his lips began to travel upward, I realized this was really happening. My head leaned back against his shoulder and I reached back to bury my fingers in his hair as his mouth reached my jaw, then behind my ear. When he began to suck my earlobe and tug it gently with his teeth, I moaned. It had been so long since a man had touched me, and I had wanted this man for months.
I swiveled to face him and my mouth found his. Our tongues dove into each other as he pulled my sweater over my head. He tore his mouth away and looked at me, first into my eyes, then slowly downward, to where my hardened nipples were straining against the lace of my bra. I shivered as he traced a line with one finger down my throat, between my breasts, around the lace and finally, in a circle around my nipple. I wanted him to devour me but felt frozen. He lowered his mouth to my breast and took nipple in his teeth as he reached around and unhooked my bra. As he slid it off, he took more and more of my breast in his mouth. I groaned and arched toward him, pulling him against me. God, it was good to feel his mouth, tongue, teeth on my swollen, aching breast.
