All sexually active characters in this story are eighteen years of age or older.
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She knew exactly the effect she had on men.
Holly's power didn't come from a lipstick tube or a lingerie store—it amused and saddened her by turns when she realized most women thought so. It went much deeper than that.
"How old are you, Brian?"
He was incredibly young. Doe-eyes—big, brown and beautiful—blinked at her as if she were the brightest thing in the room. Looking around the dimly lit bar, older patrons intent on their drinks, the glow from the television just a ghostly shadow in the corner—she thought, perhaps, she was.
"Old enough to be here." Brian shifted in his chair, and she noticed, the way she noticed everything, how his eyes moved over the cream-colored silk of her blouse, down to the respectable-but-intentionally-revealing V of her cleavage.
Holly smiled, reached across the table, and took his hand. "Now, why don't I believe you?"
His palm was wet—actually wet—and his fingers trembled, but the brave face he put on made her want to weep with compassion and even a little delight.
"My friend, he told me you could teach me...stuff..."
She sipped her water through a tiny straw, not answering, her eyes focused on him until his gaze dropped to the table. Holly was very careful, even fastidious. Her referrals came only through sources she trusted.
"This is the address." Her business card was like the cream-colored silk of her blouse, soft and clean and bright, and she slid it across the table toward him. "Tomorrow, seven p.m."
"How do I—"
She stood, shrugging on her long, black wool coat, pulling a thick length of curly, honey-colored hair from beneath the collar. "You'll receive a text message tonight with further instructions."
"I feel like double-oh-seven." His grin was both nervous and goofy, but there was a cockiness in it that allowed her to glimpse the man he would become, and it thrilled her.
"Maybe not today." Holly smiled as she pulled on her gloves. "But after tomorrow night?" She leaned over and brushed her lips against his ear, feeling him shiver as she whispered, "Your life will never be the same."
There was no arrogance in her words and she left him there with them, his eyes glazed with anticipation.
And yet, she knew...he had no idea.
* * * *
"Breathe."
Her whispered words seemed to force the air from his lungs in a long, trembling exhale.
They were both completely nude—she started virgins that way, with no pretenses or defense—and although his cock was like a steel rod nestled against the crevice of her behind as she straddled him, she ignored it completely, focusing her eyes on his, both of her hands resting in the middle of his chest. She was balancing herself, but doing much more than that.
"Do you want to touch me?" She knew the answer, but waited.
"God, yes." One hand, held rigidly at his side, started to move, but stopped when she gave a slight shake of her head.
"How does it make you feel, that wanting?" She brought her face down closer to his, her eyes searching, her hair falling across his chest and shoulders. He give a small gasp, just a short intake of breath, his eyes half-closing in anticipation.
"Crazy," he murmured, swallowing, licking his lips. "Like...like I would do anything. Anything for you. To you. I feel...I feel like a wild man. I want to..."
"Go on," she encouraged, rocking her hips back slightly, feeling his cock jerk. "Don't censor it. Tell me."
"I want to... oh god." He gasped again when one of her hands snuck behind her back, pressing his cock, which had made a wet precum trail along the groove of her ass. "Oh my god, that's good. I want to fuck you, Holly, I want to be inside you."
"Mmm." She rubbed him a little faster, her expert thumb caressing the sensitive frenulum. "Good. More."
