Once Erika had satisfied her desires, ravaging me as she rocked herself through at least two pretty intense orgasms, the room finally became eerily quiet.
Wayne was on the floor, but leaning on the seat of a lounge chair for support, and as a sort of pillow. He was exhausted and would probably not be awake much longer. Steve was sitting back on another lounge chair, surveying the scene silently, and Erika had slid sideways off me, and was lying supine on the floor, gradually catching her breath.
For my part, I lay there on the altar, oops, I mean ottoman... my face and hair completely sticky with the combined goo from Erika and Steve's lovemaking that had been rubbed and lathered into every crevasse under Erika's intense rodeo. My bottom was still radiating its happy trauma up into my body, and I was still unable to really tell if I was oozing any juices from back there. I stared up at the light fitting, which was a frosted glass dome inverted in the ceiling. A simple fitting, and practical. That was all I was capable of really thinking about at that stage, in my exhaustion.
It must have looked like the aftermath of some sort of mutual suicide pact in that room. It's a good thing nobody walked in.
Presently, Wayne was snoring. Erika rolled over and lifted herself up with tired groans, and headed for Steve's bedroom. I stayed still, waiting for Steve to follow her before getting up to survey the damage and take stock, but he didn't move.
He continued not to move for many moments after Erika had left the room, gone up the hallway, and had disappeared into his bedroom. That incredibly attractive girl would soon be snuggled up in his bed, and I wondered what would possess him to remain in the lounge room in the presence of her used, disgraced, and soiled little sex pig.
I waited.
He didn't move.
After about forever, his voice croaked. He cleared his throat and tried again. He said, "In the bathroom there are fresh towels in the linen press. I can show you. And I'll grab you a dressing gown while you clean up if you like."
I turned to stare at him, a cum-stuck shard of hair that had started to crust itself onto my cheek pulled gently away from the skin as I turned my head. I was trying to make sense of the situation. Why was he offering this? What did it mean?
I had to reorient myself. I was still in the little game I had been enjoying all evening, but he was sort of breaking the fourth wall here.
"Um, yeah," I said softly. "That would actually be really nice. I'm so sorry about your furniture. If there's any stains, I'll..."
"Please, it's fine. Really," He made a dismissive gesture at the furniture in the room as he hopped up to his feet. "Come on, I'll show where everything is."
He extended his hand, which was a real shock to me. I mean, who does that? I wasn't a lady, I was a tramp! A disgusting little discarded sex toy.
I took his hand and he lifted me effortlessly to my feet, and held on while I steadied myself. Just then, Wayne gave a snort, a snuffle, and a sort of sigh. Then he resumed snoring. Steve and I looked at each other and quietly giggled. It was a rare, sweet moment, and I instantly felt ashamed to be sharing it with him. Why wasn't he treating me with the contempt I deserved? Why wasn't he with the beautiful, elegant, devastatingly hot Erika, who was curled up in his bed right then?
Well, a hot shower felt unbelievable. I soaked it up. It took ages to wash all the sticky mess from my hair, combing it patiently and painfully to unstick everything. But eventually I was clean again, and Steve had provided a wonderfully fluffy white dressing gown with, presumably, his initials on it: SJP.
I eventually crept from the bathroom, knowing that everyone would be sound asleep. I was heading for the lounge to see if I could set myself up a makeshift bed, when I was astonished to find Steve still sitting up, and apparently waiting for me!
"I'm so sorry. Were you waiting for the bathroom?" I whispered, so as not to disturb Wayne, who was now curled up on the floor covered with a blanket, which I assume Steve had laid across him. "I had no idea. I feel terrible. It took me ages to get everything... you know... out of my hair..."
"No, it's fine. I was just... hoping we could...", he looked nervous. What was he going to say? Was he going to ask what sort of deranged sickness I had? Because I didn't know how to answer that. Or would he be asking me for some advice on getting Erika as a regular girlfriend? I had no idea. I held my breath.
"I was sort of hoping we could talk. If you're not too tired?" he posed his hopeful question.
"Oh, well, sure...", I responded, not knowing exactly which of the options he was going to quiz me on.
He beamed at my response, which was kind of weird. I didn't know what to make of that. He hopped up eagerly, "Coke?" he asked, as he swung the fridge open.
"Um... water?" I ventured. I was so thirsty. The night's adventures had really take it out of me.
He put his Coke back in the fridge and instead filled two tall glasses with water.
We were speaking in low tones, as quietly as possible, to not disturb Wayne. He went to the sliding door, which opened out onto a verandah. By juggling the glasses a little, he managed to get it open and then invited me to come out.
It was cool outside. Even more so because my hair was wet, and I wasn't wearing anything under the dressing gown, either. But it wasn't too bad. He slid the door across behind us so that we could talk more normally, and he settled us into the two chairs, arranged opposite one another with a low table between them. The still night air carried the sounds of only a very few cars in the distance. It was somewhere between 1 am and 3, so everything was very quiet.
I sat, and noted the chair was, while simple, quite comfortable. I absent-mindedly crossed one leg over the other as I leaned forward for my water, and fought the instinct to grab the corner of the bathrobe as it fell to the side, revealing quite a lot of leg, while the top also opened out to bare extra cleavage. Normally, such a movement would incorporate the corrective tugs at the garment to re-cover the leg, and to gather in the top, perhaps with a tightening of the belt. But I did none of that. After all, why shouldn't Steve get to gawk? I'd just finished cleaning all his spunk of my face. It's not like I had anything to hide from him. Anyway, I wasn't being obscene, just... revealing.
It had a striking effect on him. I mean, I love watching the effect I have on men with little flashes of leg, or an "accidental" flip of the skirt, so I knew that look. His eyes bore into my revealed flesh, he subconsciously moistened his lips, and he fumbled a little, clearly distracted.
I drank deeply from the water, and enjoyed the cool air whispering around my freshly bathed skin, looking out at the fairly unremarkable view across several quiet neighborhoods, a cloudless sky with a bright moon, and consequently only a couple of particularly bright stars twinkling visibly. The heady, sweet scent of frangipannis was on the air. I enjoyed knowing that I was being watched. Or more to the point, my body was being watched.
"So I met this amazing girl...", Steve said, as if settling in for a long story. "Just last evening."
Oh, I thought, so that's what this is. He's going to ask for advice on going further with Erika. Fair enough, too. I imagined he'd love to be able to show her off to his friends. She's so pretty! I started thinking what I could offer as advice.
"... but it was kind of an unusual night, and I don't know what to think," he paused, and looked intently at me.
I interjected, "Yes, I understand. It really was a little strange, wasn't it! I can understand why it's hard to know where things are at..." He looked relieved that I was picking up on his thread, "but I suppose there's one very important question I'd ask, before I can give you any advice about what comes next."
He leaned forward and nodded in encouragement, his hands were fingering his glass of water nervously and he took an awkward sip.
"The question is, Steve," I sagely intoned. "What would you like to happen next? Do you want to pursue her as a girlfriend, for example?"
He choked on his water for a moment, taking several seconds to recover his composure. He wiped tears from his eyes and replaced the glass on the table. He was suddenly incredibly nervous and I didn't know why. He really must be into Erika, I thought.
"I... I mean... gosh," he stammered. "I mean heck, yes! Yes, that's what I want. It's just...", he paused and despite his head being bowed slightly, he looked nervously up and across at me like an overly cautious puppy. "Well... I guess I really want to know if that's what... what she wants, you know?"
He was an awfully shy thing. I mean I don't really know what Erika wants, but if he keeps shuffling his feet and wringing his hands she's unlikely to know what on earth he's doing! His best bet would be to go for it. I wondered if he was up for that.
I put my glass on the table, uncrossed my legs, and leaned forward. With my previous lack of adjustment, combined with this new movement, the front of the gown was now gaping open, and really only met at the point where the belt held it together around my waist. I didn't care. I was giving him instructions on how to date Erika, so this would likely be my last chance to expose myself to him like this, and I was enjoying myself.
