My favourite part is watching her get ready. Sometimes it's almost unbearable. She knows this, but pretends ignorance. This is a rule. From the moment she closes the bathroom door and the lock slides into place, I no longer exist. I must wait for her silently in the bedroom. I listen to the shower, and I imagine rivulets of warm water slipping over her naked skin. I picture hands on freshly shaven flesh, caressing pristine soap over smooth, tanned contours and pink, pointed nipples. I wring my hands in impatience. I cross my legs to tighten the crotch of my pants. I wait.
I remember the third night we tried it. I rarely acknowledge the first two attempts, since they were both disastrous. The first time, nerves caused us to back out before things really got started. The second time was disappointing for other reasons; let's just say a case of one party exaggerating certain traits and leave it at that. But the third try was perfect. It was the night when both of us got close to realising what we had talked about for so many weeks beforehand. From that point on I knew we would become addicted.
At 7:45 that evening Marie emerged from the bathroom in just a towel. Her damp, auburn hair was sleek and shiny, curling slightly around the edges. She sat down at the dressing table and used the hair dryer. I was sitting on the edge of the bed behind her. I studied her reflection in the mirror. The towel was tucked in on itself just above her breasts. As she shifted around, it became loose, threatening to unfurl. I watched greedily, hoping it would fall. The crease became more and more slack. I was breathing heavily, biting my bottom lip. She reached up to run her fingers through her long hair as she directed the dryer, and the fold in her towel finally gave. It slid smoothly down off her breasts. Marie hesitated a second, then continued. She blushed just slightly, but she did not meet my eyes in the mirror.
When her hair was done, she stood up and let the towel drop completely. She had allowed me to shave her pussy the night before. To mark the occasion, we had wanted to do something that would make Marie feel different in some way. She had suggested a wig, but it seemed impractical. New clothes were fine, but since the clothes would be removed, it had to be something more lasting and intimate. We each came up with an idea. The shaving was mine, the temporary tattoo above her left hip was hers. It was a small butterfly with wings of red, purple and gold.
She flipped open a bottle of body lotion, vanilla-scented. I watched her slick hands rubbing the lotion into her legs. Her fingers curved around the insides of her thighs, stopping just outside the clean smoothness of her labia. Then her stomach. Her arms. The skin beneath her breasts. She smelled so sweet I wanted to eat her. I wanted to push my prick against her shiny wet skin and writhe against her. I wanted to suck her tongue into my mouth while I fucked her with my fingers. I wanted her more than I could ever remember, precisely because I knew I wasn't allowed to have her.
Her new dress was hanging in the closet. She took it out and stepped into it. It was white, and very sheer, so underwear was not an option. The neckline was quite high, but it was sleeveless, and much shorter than she would usually wear. She smoothed it down over her body. The material was light and clung to her perfectly. Her nipples were stiff. I could make out their shape so clearly. Some subtle make-up, a quick squirt of perfume, again, of a type she would not usually wear, and she was ready to go.
I went out to the car alone, and let myself in with the spare key. I slid into the back seat, locked the doors behind me, and waited in the darkness. I saw her come out of the house by herself. A stranger. A beautiful, sexy woman on her way to somewhere special. If I'd been watching her from a window, spying on her for a few moments, I would have been jealous. I would have wondered just where she was going, and who might be lucky enough to have her tonight. I would have given anything to follow her, invisible, and see more.
She unlocked the car and got in, never glancing back. As she drove, she listened to some music. I was slumped low in the seat. Marie's dress had ridden up a little, and the image of her bare legs came and went, throbbing between darkness and the glare of streetlights as she worked the pedals. I was squeezing myself through my pants. I was thinking of how naked she was beneath that sheer, white covering. I was anticipating the stares she would draw form other men. Women, too.
She pulled into the small parking lot of a bar we'd never been to. Before getting out, she checked her lipstick. She had gone for a dark, reddish-brown that looked fantastic against her almond skin. She pressed her lips together once, firmly, then got out of the car. I followed a few seconds later, locking the doors behind us. She had already entered the bar when I got inside. I went straight for an empty booth on the right. My back was against the wall, and I had a clear view of most of the place.
I spotted Rob before Marie did. We had seen his picture in an e-mail a week before. We had thought it better to request one this time to avoid the disappointment of our previous disaster. He had sent us a shot of himself at the beach the previous summer. In it, he had been wearing only a pair of tight shorts, a towel hanging over his broad shoulders. Marie had been impressed, as had I, and we'd both worried that perhaps the picture might not be entirely genuine. From where I sat that night, it was obvious that our fears were unfounded. Rob was as handsome in reality as he had been in pixels.
He was staring quite openly at Marie when she recognised him, and a look of excited joy spread over his face. He had not seen her, having only received a written description of Marie. Part of our arrangement was finding someone serious enough to participate solely on the basis of what we told them. No pictures from us. No phone calls. Just our word that everything would be as we described. A man who would make that leap of faith and put his trust in our word was worth the gamble on our part. From the look on Rob's face, it was clear that Marie was even more stunning than my description of her had promised.
Rob offered to buy her a drink. I imagine most women in that situation might have knocked back a few just to calm their nerves, or get themselves in the mood. But Marie never drank, and that didn't change that night. She ordered a Diet Coke and sat on the stool next to Rob's. She told me she liked being sober, experiencing the moment in its purest, most naked form, without artificial stimulants. Rob, on the other hand, was drinking what looked like bourbon. I could tell that this was the first time he'd done anything like this.
He told us in his e-mails that he was a twenty-four-year-old postgraduate. He'd done a little modelling to pay the bills, and it showed. He was just over six feet tall, medium-length blond hair, and a smile that must have melted a few hearts. We asked him why he was doing this, and he said it was the excitement. He wanted no-strings sex with a total stranger. Someone who wasn't going to expect a follow-up phone call. He was shy, and not very good at one-night stands. He decided the only way he was going to fulfil his fantasy was through us. We thought that was fair enough.
As I sat in my booth, invisible, I saw Rob relax in response to Marie's expert flirting. She was always good at that. It's how she got me to notice her in the first place. A hand on the knee, leaning in with a sweet laugh; the certain way she turned her head and looked from under her eyelids. When he put his hand on her bare thigh and whispered something in her ear, I sensed a decision was about to be made.
I watched Marie carefully. She said something, then stood and walked toward the toilets at the back of the bar. Her dress was tight around her ass. Rob was staring at it, too. I took out my cell phone and placed it on the table. A minute later, it began to buzz. The text message made me smile:
I want him!!! Is it okay? xxx
I texted back my consent, then went outside and let myself back into the car.
Slumped down in the dark, I watched them come out of the bar. They stopped close to the car and Marie put her arms around Rob's neck. His hands went to her waist, and he hesitated before kissing her. At first he was reserved, then I could see his tongue playing with Marie's. He pulled her closer so their bodies were pressed tight together. His hands dropped to her ass. When their kiss had ended, Marie stepped back slightly and felt the front of Rob's pants. I could see the bulge there, and I gave myself a squeeze in anticipation.
As Marie drove, Rob kept stroking her leg. They were talking about themselves, getting along very well. Every now and then they would ask each other something sexual.
'How often do you jerk off?'
'Have you ever tried anal?'
'Where's the strangest place you've ever fucked?'
