"He gives you a tender kiss
And you can't even hear them no more -
All the voices of choices
Now only one road remains..."
-Mark Cohn
Strangers in a Car
The partygoers from the office had moved outside leaving just him and her in the living room of her house.
They were a generation apart. He was 42 and she 21. He sat in an overstuffed chair sipping Jameson’s Irish whiskey and smoking non-filtered Camels. She laid across from him on the sofa smoking a joint.
She took a toke and giggled as she released the smoke. “So. Here we are. What are you thinking about over there?”
He took a sip of his drink, a drag from his Camel, blew the smoke out slowly in a blue cloud and smiled. “You. Me. Things.”
She laughed; tossed a pillow from the sofa at him. "You know, ever since I’ve known you, sometimes you can be so full of BULLSHIT!"
"Well, granted. But try this on your bullshit meter, missy. I'm thinking how beautiful you are. I'm thinking that if I could just touch the soft skin between your breasts," he took another drag, "…bury my nose in your hair...I think that the weight of the world would lift from me for a infinite moment in time."
She rolled her eyes, toked. "Oh, yeah; right. That’s a big 10 on the bullshit meter all right.” But she looked back at him and he started to talk again. He talked quietly, in an odd mood.
Maybe it was the weed. Maybe it was her desires stirring. Maybe it was the fact that no one had talked to her like this. Whatever the case, she fell into his mood.
"To touch my lips to the back of your neck; to slowly breathe into your ear.
"To hold your chin in the palm of my hand, my thumb caressing your lips. You'd look at me but you'd say nothing. You'd slowly part your lips and slowly and gently I'd push my thumb in. You'd suck it...I'd close my eyes and hold my breath from the ecstasy."
His voice fell silent.
He took another cigarette from his case. Slowly he tamped it down on his watch face. Slowly he flicked his Zippo to life. He looked out the front window; took another sip of his drink.
She sat transfixed. She didn't laugh. Her breathing increased ever so slightly and started to shallow out.
He continued:
"To caress your throat, your collar bones, that soft delicate place where they meet. To heft a breast and feel its firm softness and its weight, stroke the nipple. Pull it between my thumb and forefinger. Hear you breathe in at the touch.
"Watch as you closed your eyes. Maybe feel you shift your weight, moving your hips forward trying to find something to rub your sex against."
He fell silent again. Took a drag, a sip, looked at the floor. Maybe he was beginning to feel self-conscious. He was older. He was not an attractive man - or, as several female friends told him, politely - he was “unconventionally handsome.” He started to take Viagra on his 41st birthday.
After a long moment, and to her surprise, she found herself speaking.
"Uh, so, what else? You know, like, what else were you thinking...about us - uh, about me?” She felt awkward. None of her male friends had talked to her like this before.
He smiled, slowly blew smoke toward the ceiling. "The softness and slickness and wetness between your legs; the scent of your sex. What it would be like to press my nose in it.
"To taste you, smell you, run my fingers between the slick folds. Feel you move against me."
And then suddenly he was standing in front of her, holding out his hand.
"I want to be with you."
She was breathing in shallow, quick breaths. Her face and chest felt hot and flushed.
She looked up at him and took his hand.
She led him upstairs to her room.
They stood by her bed, facing each other.
He reached for the bottom of her T-shirt, lifted it. She raised her arms.
The shirt came off.
She looked at him, waited.
He touched the soft valley between her breasts, trailed his fingertips down to her belly to the top of her jeans.
He closed his eyes, breathed deeply. He barely whispered, "My God."
She shivered at his touch. Giggled nervously, quietly.
"Take off your bra."
She reached behind her, undid the clasp then bent her shoulders forward. The bra slid down her arms and then her breasts were naked to him.
Her gaze followed his hand as it came to gently cup a breast, thumb the nipple. She closed her eyes as the sensation spread through her. She felt her sex respond. Then she opened her eyes and looked at him, silently saying, "What next?"
He sat on the side of her bed. Took her by the hips and positioned her directly in from of him. Her hips were so slim, so delicate, her belly so achingly flat and beautiful. She offered no resistance.
"Take off your jeans.”
She fumbled nervously with the button then pulled her jeans down to her ankles and stepped out of them. She stood before him in only her panties.
He took her panties at each hip and very slowly slid them down her hips. The first tug downward was only millimeters; he leaned into her and kissed the skin at the top of her belly, slowly breathing out on the sensitive skin at the end of each kiss. With each downward movement of the panties came another kiss, another breath, down her belly.
Then he was at her mons and the soft brown hair that covered her sex. The panties were rolled on down her thighs to her ankles. He gently gripped her by her smooth thighs, right below the inner hollow that lead to the entry to her sex. Gently pushed his nose into her sex hair and inhaled deeply.
