Sasha

This story was so much fun to write. I ran to the computer every night when the family was finally asleep, ready to burst with all the plot and dialogue ideas I'd come up with during the day. It is the first story I've ever submitted anywhere, so be gentle!

I wouldn't deserve to feel nearly as proud of it if it weren't for the superhuman editing powers of Weird Harold. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

If I could, I'd like to make a suggestion about some music that I think you should listen to while reading this. Moby's latest,Play

. I listened to it exclusively while I was writing. It compliments the story perfectly. And it's just a darn good CD!

* * * * *

Ahhh! This is what I needed!

I took a deep breath of the fresh, salty air, savoring the sights around me. The late afternoon sun warmed my skin as I stood in a garden filled with flowers and sculpture. I desperately needed to indulge my senses after a hectic, demanding business trip to Los Angeles.

It was at the Getty Museum where I found my reprieve. The museum is a superb complex of galleries and patios, perched high on a hill overlooking the Pacific. On every trip to L.A., I tried to spend some time there, to unwind, to delight in the stunning visual setting. On this June afternoon, I smiled to myself as the combination of nature and art again worked its magic on me.

Suddenly, my reverie was broken.

"Hallie!"

I heard a man's voice behind me, with a slight Slavic accent, calling my name.

No! That can't be...

In spite of the years since I had heard that voice, I immediately knew who it was; not so much for what I heard with my ears, but from an old familiar feeling which started in my stomach and traveled down to my nether regions.

"Sasha!" I squealed, spinning around. We threw ourselves into each other's arms, kissing and laughing.

"What are you doing here?" I exclaimed breathlessly. "How in the world did you recognize me?"

"No problem recognizing your incredible behind, sweetheart! You look fantastic!" With his accent, it sounded like "s

v

eetheart." I thought he had a

very

sexy accent. It also occurred to me that I was wearing my best black dress with the little straps, the one that fit so well. I was flushed with the success of my meeting that day.

You know, I

do

look pretty hot.

"

You

haven't changed, have you?" I responded with a laugh. "Tell me this isn't just a coincidence!"

"Well, I work here."

"No way!"

"I happened to see your name on today's parking reservation list. I scanned the security cameras after your arrival time until I spotted you. I've been watching you since then, voyeur that I am"

Sasha's beautiful face had typical Eastern European features: high cheekbones, chiseled jaw line, pale skin. His eyes were hard to define - sometimes gray, sometimes blue, with abundant dark lashes. He kept his thick, black hair short in the back, but had an unruly lock that he often pushed back as it fell into his face. He wasn't exceptionally tall, but his lean, hard body and confident posture gave one that impression. I remember thinking that he was

cute

when I knew him at school; I could not believe how incredibly good-looking he had become.

About seven years earlier, I had a serious flirtation with this angular Russian while we were students at a prestigious international graduate program. We were both dating others, but I got to know him better when we worked on a couple of projects together. We enjoyed chatting when we met in the dining commons or at the campus pub, where we engaged in fierce matches of foosball. Yes, I probably was quite a tease, much to the annoyance of my then-boyfriend.

One night, having consumed far too many of my favorite, champagne cocktails, I let him escort me back to my room. He playfully pulled me down on my bed and I let him have a few tongue-laden kisses. By the time his hands made it down my torso and wriggled under my pants, I was helpless. I just lay there while he took one finger and ran it up and down my lips, slowly. Dipping his fingers into my abundant moisture, he made lazy circles around my clit. He applied more and more pressure until I came in a short but intense burst. When I stopped convulsing, I couldn't move.

He then did the most amazing thing - he kissed me on the forehead and said goodnight. I wanted to show my appreciation, but he was gone before I knew it.

A few weeks later, we were at a school party; people were dancing outside in the quad on a fairly hot evening. The periphery of the quad area was very dark. I was walking through an unlit corridor back to the party when Sasha came up suddenly from behind and pulled me into a doorway. He pinned me to the wall, his mouth and his hands all over me. I returned his kisses with an excitement that took me by surprise. He whispered, "Let's go back to your room," but I protested that my boyfriend would come looking for me there.

"You know what? I owe you! I never forget an unreciprocated hand job! Over there," I commanded, pushing him around the corner into a totally secluded, dark recess behind the building.

I fell to my knees in front of him, and reached for his zipper. Cupping his balls from the outside with one hand, I pulled his already hard cock from his pants. He let out a low moan. Wetting my lips, I rubbed them on the tip, around and around. My fingers ran up and down, all around his huge, silky shaft. I looked up to see his eyes closed, his head thrown back against the wall, an expression of amazed pleasure on his face. He grabbed the back of my head and pushed me onto his shaft. I sunk his cock all the way to my throat. He moaned, jerking his hips in and out; I just stayed still and let him work it. When I felt a blast of warm cum hit the back of my throat, I swallowed it like crazy. He stopped moving and slumped against the wall, totally spent.

The memory of these two encounters flooded into my mind in a fraction of a second. It happened during the last few weeks before I graduated, so we didn't have the chance to explore a relationship. After I left school, we lost touch, but I never did stop thinking about him. I wonder what he would have thought had he known he was the object of many of my masturbatory fantasies in the time since we had parted.

"I am so amazed that we ran into each other like this. And here, in my favorite spot in the world! How long have you worked here?"

He grinned broadly. "For a few years. Started out translating for an exhibit from the Hermitage in St. Petersburg. I guess they liked me here because they've kept me on. I'm a special projects director now. So what about you?"

"That's wonderful! As for me, well... You know, there's a lot to tell. Is there somewhere we can go, maybe get a drink?"

"Let's go upstairs to where I work. I think you'll be impressed. And, I've got something for you up there!"

"You do? Then let's go!" I enthusiastically agreed.

We took the elevator to an upper floor of the administrative building. We walked to the end of a corridor where Sasha opened the door to his office. He invited me in, saying, "It's a little small, but it's not so bad, is it?"

I strode over to a plate glass window opposite his desk.

This is a nice perk!

His office may not have been spacious, but it had a superb view of the coast. "I'd never get any work done with a view like this!" Even better than the view, it shared a patio area with other nearby offices. At that late hour, there was no sign of any other staff members working. We had the place to ourselves.

Sasha opened a small refrigerator and brought out a bottle of champagne.

I laughed when I saw the bottle. "How did you remember my favorite drink?"

"How could I forget the effect it has on you?" I felt my cheeks grow hot and red.

He remembers very well

, I thought. He chuckled and gave me a look that made me realize I would be feeling that effect very soon.

We took our glasses out to a table and chairs. We didn't talk much, though; I suddenly couldn't think of what to say. There was a tension, thick and heavy, that hung around us. His eyes bore down on me in a gaze that paralyzed any molecule of reason in my brain.

Could I just be imagining this after such a short time? Are we going to pick up where we left off, right here, right now?

The setting sun lit the scattered clouds on fire, a perfect backdrop for the inferno that was building between us. I quickly drank one glass; he refilled it. Without thinking, I blurted out, "I must tell you how I have never been able to forget you. Seeing you now makes me feel..." I couldn't finish the sentence with the swell of emotion I felt.

"I know, sweetheart, I've never been able to get you out of my mind either."

I felt the champagne going straight to my crotch, the effervescence stimulating images I couldn't control. I was afraid there would be a puddle on my chair.

I had to stand up, do something. I rose, shakily, and walked over to the edge of the patio. "This is amazing, Sasha," I said, not necessarily referring to the view.

In an instant, he was at my side. He put his arm around my shoulder and held me close for a moment. I started to tremble.

"You're not too cold, are you?" Suddenly, he pivoted, grabbed both my arms and pulled me up to his face. "I'm sorry, but I can't help myself." His lips were on mine, his tongue wrapped around mine, his hands in my hair. I stopped breathing.

Just as abruptly, he pulled away and held me at arm's length. "Please forgive me, but I have spent far too many hours daydreaming about being with you right here - and then you go and show up! Please, if you have any doubts, if you don't want this to happen, let me know now."

I could only look in his eyes with astonishment. I managed to say, my voice quivering with emotion, "If you only knew how I have fantasized about you in the years since I've seen you last. I've always dreamed of finishing what we started so long ago. I can't believe I'm here with you now..."

"Then come with me."

Sasha took my hand and led me to a more secluded spot on the patio, hidden from sight of the offices. We stopped next to a marble column; I stepped up onto the base and eased my back against the smooth, cool surface. He leaned into me, kissing me with an intensity only pure lust can evoke. His hands started to explore my face, my hair. Every place he trailed his fingers, my skin burned with excitement.

His lips left my mouth and started a path slowly down my chin, to my throat and to the topmost of the small buttons running down the front of my dress. He released the buttons one by one until my breasts, blossoming out of my satiny strapless bra, were uncovered. "Wow," he breathed. He cupped my breasts with both hands, running his thumbs across the soft fabric on top of my nipples. I inhaled sharply as bolts of pleasure radiated throughout my body. He pulled down the bra until my rosy, hard nipples were exposed. I arched my back in shameless invitation. When I felt his lips finally capturing one, sucking it, I thought I was going to come. The sensation tearing through my crotch was intense, almost excruciating.

I struggled to slip his jacket off his shoulders. My fingers fumbled with a few buttons on his shirt; at last, I was able to slip my hand in and feel his smooth, muscular chest. I pushed his head away and planted my lips to get a taste of that sweet skin on his chest. I licked his nipples then moved my tongue to that lovely groove down the center of a well-developed torso. I couldn't control my hands, which gravitated towards the massive bulge in his pants. At first, he jumped as if I had applied an electric shock. Soon his hips started to rock on top of my probing fingers, but then suddenly stopped.

"I won't last a minute if you keep doing that! Here, let me..."

He pushed me back again, lifting the hem of my dress. He rubbed the lacy top of a thigh-high stocking and slid his fingers underneath. As he pushed my skirt to my waist, he stood there for a moment, enjoying the view of my panties darkened by my abundant dampness. I threw my head back.

This is really happening

.

With great delicacy, Sasha pulled off my panties, which to me is one of the most erotic parts of making love. The mere brush of his fingers and fabric down my legs sent incredible vibrations through my body. I touched my nipples, pulling on them, softly moaning.

He took one finger and ran it up the center of my vagina, parting my vulva, finally touching my clit. I sighed. He gently pulled on my pubes, spreading me wide open with his fingers. I could feel how I gushed in response to his touch. He knelt down and brought his tongue inside my lips and around my clit. I gasped for air.

I have to have it inside of me - now.

I lifted his head up so I could look into his eyes. I gasped, "Fuck me."

He stood up and took a step back. With agonizing slowness, he released his rigid, pulsing cock.

So close

. He pushed me firmly against the pillar. I shut my eyes and spread my legs. As the tip of his cock rested at the entrance to my cunt, I could feel my vaginal walls contracting, trying to pull it inside further.

In. Put it in!

Slowly, ever so slowly, he slid his manhood into me. Every fraction of an inch stretched me wider and wider, as my muscles tightened around him. He inserted himself to the hilt, then slowly withdrew, gathering speed with each stroke. He rested one hand above me to support himself and used the other to rub and pinch my nipples.

I met every thrust with my own frenzied rhythm.

Harder, harder! I'm almost there!

He slid his hand in between us, feeling for my clit.

Yes, THERE.

When his finger made contact and pressed down, I sailed over the edge of ecstasy. Wave after wave of convulsions tore through me - I had never before felt such a full-body orgasm where every muscle contracted with pleasure. I opened my mouth in a soundless scream.

He braced himself against the column with both hands. With one last great thrust, he momentarily lifted me off my feet. I heard a moan from deep within his throat. I felt his entire body tense as he let loose a raging torrent of cum deep within me. We rocked together for another minute, slowly tapering off our tempo while my cunt kept contracting, impossible to relax after such a surge.

He finally kissed my forehead, pushed himself off me and buttoned his clothes while I arranged mine. The blue, dreamlike hues were darkening fast. He took my hand and pulled me close, kissing me tenderly on my lips. Then I heard a low voice in my ear, "Sweetheart, I may have let you get away once before, but not again..."