They called it "tongue wrestling." Whatever this art really was called, these two perfected it for the hundredth time. Frank turned his head and attention slightly to his front door. He shoved the hard steel of the key into the perfectly fitting lock on his front door. He had done something similar to this so many times with her, but this time differed as he turned the key sharply to the right, and gave a quick thrust forward. The door fell inward, and the two quickly followed. Their tongues met again. As he concentrated on this small proportion of his body, he felt a light-headed rapture. She was not enjoying it quite as much as he, but he hardly noticed as he anticipated the hour to come, and a small lump started to form in his boxers at just the thought.
Her name was Dove. Frank had to admit to himself that she was the most attractive woman he had ever slept under his covers. She stood at five feet and six inches, around average height for a woman. As her name might foreshadow, her skin was almost white and not for the teaspoon of Chicano blood flowing through her veins she might have a pale complexion, but as it was, she was a flawless beige. Her eyes were the coldest possible blue, reminding anyone who gazed into them of the arctic sky holding a blizzard. At birth her hair had been pure blonde, ever since it had slowly darkened, to the dirty blonde, almost light brown it was now. She refused to dye it, for old times' sake. If only she had more matching features, Frank thought, then he would want to take this relationship further. But she was not about to be his submissive little princess/house wife. This relationship was, as everyone knew, only for the sex, and not love.
They slowly made their way up the stairs and into the bedroom of the luxurious apartment, unable to unlock their wet lips. The lust built up in him, ready to boil as any teapot. She felt even less turned on than before. She was trying, but it just wasn't working. She stopped kissing him, just as they reached the edge of his bed.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"I've told you already," she said.
He couldn't hide his frustration. "Come on, baby," he said pulling her closer. At first, she let him, but then she resisted. She had told him earlier that she had considered it over. At the time, he didn't seem to care, but now in the midst of heat, he was clinging on to her.
"Just once more," he asked of her.
"Frank, we've never really had a relationship, and I'm tired of this," she confessed. But what she didn't say is that he was unable to please her. She had enjoyed the first few times with him, but he had never quite hit the spot; never really made her feel good, and it was getting old. All her orgasms were fake and she was tired of living a lie.
"I love-" he started, but she cut him off.
"No, you don't."
"You're right," he sighed, "but how about just once more, for memories' sake?"
"No, Frank." She was stern now. She turned to leave.
Frank tried something else in desperation, "I've been seeing someone else."
"I know about her, too, Frank. I've always known, it was never a secret. We've never had a real relationship, everyone knows we were just together for the sex. It was good, but it's over now. Why don't you try being serious with her?"
Dove walked out of his room, down the stairs, and out his door. He was shouting things after her, which she could barely make out, but she ignored them all. The last thing she remembered hearing was "I'll call you." Great, she thought sarcastically.
She arrived at the place she called home a good 40 minutes later. She glanced at the clock before she turned the key to cut the power to her car: 11:01 PM.
"Shit," she cursed aloud. She just remembered that she had a meeting at her work early tomorrow. She had to be there at 7:00 and it took an hour to drive to work. Dove left her silver 2003 Jaguar S-Type, checking once to ensure that the doors were locked.
Dove lived in a studio apartment with a roommate named Jessica. Jessica looked and spoke as if she was a full-blooded African-American but in reality, she was half-Mongolian. Only her eyes were any clue to this hidden heritage.
Jessica greeted Dove upon her entrance. "Hey, girlfriend, yous got two messages, an both are from Frank. So what happen over there?"
"We're through," Dove said.
"You sure, hun? He's a hard ta find hunk."
"Yes, I'm sure."
"Well, he wasn't any good for yous anyways, Dove."
"I know."
"An he was seein another-"