2. Dessert
(part 2)
Morgan drove a metallic light blue BMW 230i convertible. The paint matched her eyes in hue if not intensity, and it had a stick shift. The top was up. I opened her door for her, it just seemed the right thing to do. Be still my heart... the hands and feet and bare legs of a beautiful woman putting a manual transmission through its paces remains one of the sexiest images I know. I was trying to be unobtrusive, but she must've noticed me glancing at her hand on the gearshift because she started overtly fondling it, another irreversible step for my consciousness of her sexual power, and it became obvious that she not only knew, she wanted it that way.
She was a really good driver, too, like she'd taken a class at a racing school or maybe the kind that teaches rich kids to evade kidnappers. Callie would have to do some fancy driving to keep up if Morgan wanted us to be more alone, but Morgan made sure we stayed together.
"I thought you were older," she said. "Wasn't that your son next to you at the Christmas Eve service? I thought he was almost my age."
"Busted," I said. "Yes, I'm more than twice your age."
"You look really good, Bob, like you take great care of yourself." She reached over to touch me on the leg, just lightly, briefly.
"Thank you, Morgan," I said. "I hope I won't get into trouble if I say that you look wonderful yourself."
She shivered. I'd become used to feeling what a woman experienced without having to infer it, but for some reason I couldn't with Morgan. However, from just what seemed to be happening from the outside, she was getting very aroused. We were on the freeway now and she reached to my leg again, this time leaving her hand there, just her fingertips touching, moving ever so slightly. She took a deep, unsteady breath.
"I thought you were married," she said.
"I am," I said. "I don't actually know where Joanna is right now... like I said at the restaurant, it's been a crazy year."
"It seems like you and Callie are a couple," she said. "A really cute couple, I might add." Her hand was moving on my leg now, lightly stroking while she drove one-handed. "My father's in great shape, too," she said. "He works hard at it, but I get the sense that yours is even better, like you're solid muscle... I can feel that in your leg." She breathed out in a puff, seemed to shiver again.
I put my hand on hers, moved her hand back to the gearshift. I'd gotten pretty damn hard from what she was doing and didn't want it going further. But then she was fondling the knob again, smiling impishly. So much for that.
"I get the sense that you're also really athletic, like if you weren't wearing a seatbelt you could jump out of this car... in a single bound." She smiled.
This was going a little too fast for me. I didn't respond. She reached over and put her hand on mine. A soft, delicate hand, small gentle fingers like a child's. Moved my hand to her bare knee, began moving it under the flare of her jeans.
"I'm a virgin, you know?" she said. "And I'm going to stay that way for the foreseeable future. But that doesn't mean I don't know how to please a man, very much, or a woman, or both at the same time like you wouldn't believe, and to take my own pleasure. I'm also very kinky, you would not believe how kinky."
I'd already withdrawn my hand by the time she finished her second sentence. Her leg was a revelation, as soft and smooth as silk or her cheek, even as toned as it was. I was pretty damned hard.
"I won't try to take you away from Callie or take Callie away from you... she's a very beautiful woman and I would love to share you with her for as long as you'll both have me."
I had time for a few breaths, struggling to keep my breathing and the rest of myself under control. She was waiting for a reply.
"When I first met you," I said, "you said I had something you wanted, something you needed. What did you mean?"
She was exiting the freeway, downshifting to surface streets, double-clutching. Yeah, this girl could drive. She seemed suddenly nervous, like this was a question she didn't want to answer.
"Something about you felt... out of balance," she said, "like... like... well, I've never felt anything like it before, and I wanted to get to know you better, to learn more."
I let that flow over me, around me, through me, like it was something I'd read in my grimoire and needed to let settle in before I could make sense of it. It felt honest and true, but also like it wasn't the whole answer.
"Do you still feel that?" I asked.
Morgan shook her head, touched my leg for a few moments before downshifting for another red light. "What I feel in you now is something totally different, almost like... like water running fast and deep under a still pond. I don't understand how you could seem so much younger than the last time I saw you. Or why that makes me feel so..." She reached for my hand again, placed it on her breast and moaned. "Oh... Ga..." she said, gasping.
I removed my hand as gently as I could, not without resistance. Her frilly peasant blouse revealed little of her form except her midriff and bare shoulders and most of her arms, and while all of that was lovely indeed, what she had under her blouse was only hinted at, but now I knew... her breast was soft, and warm, and surprisingly full for such a slender frame, and while she wore a bra, it was there to conceal rather than display. Her nipple rose almost immediately to become as thick and long and meaty as any woman's I'd ever felt.
She came at that stoplight, completely hands-free, an increasingly guttural moan for more than 10 seconds until she was breathless, her eyes mostly closed, her hands clutching the steering wheel so tight that her knuckles turned white. She sighed and tapped me on the leg, like I was a broiling hot pan and she didn't want to get burned.
There were no more traffic lights. We were winding our way uphill, past a few stop signs, a Holmby Park sign and homes that kept getting larger, farther from the road, and farther apart. The driveway she finally turned into was 70 meters long, wound between two relatively modest homes and ended in a circular drive around a fountain with a mansion on the far side. It reminded me of the dark mage's estate, but this one was stone while his had been wood, and this one was bigger. A man emerged from the front door and opened Morgan's.
"Welcome home, young mistress," he said, backing away, his eyes lowered.
"Thank you, James," she replied. "Please let my parents know we'll share dessert with our guests."
He re-entered the house. I exited Morgan's car to open Callie's door, took her hand to help her out. Not that she needed it, but it felt like the right thing to do.
"Whoo," I said to her softly, exhaling through puckered lips.
Morgan led us inside, her expression dreamy and satiated. Callie raised her eyebrows at me.
The entry was as large as my entire living room. Morgan removed her shoes and motioned that we should do the same. She handed Mariano and me nondescript pairs of grey-brown socks, but it took only a moment to realize that it was by far the most comfortable thing I'd ever put on my feet.
