Burn in Her Fire

Ash

Natalie Cho leaned back in the passenger seat of my car, one long, pale golden leg resting next to the sideview mirror. Her tiny cut-offs had ridden up, somehow. I didn't think they had anywhere to go as they barely came to the tops of her thighs, but now they were pressed snug against her pussy, a fact I kept noticing every time I looked over. Her graceful hand tapped out the rhythm of the Peter Murphy song playing on the stereo as she gazed out over the baking desert. The hot wind ruffled her bubblegum-pink hair. She'd been growing it out all year and it was the longest I'd ever seen it. She'd taken to tying it up in two buns like she was Chun-Li.

We were on the sizzling blacktop between Los Angeles and Las Vegas in the middle of a summer day that felt like an oven. An oven with a breeze. That was also in an oven. I tried to pay attention to the shimmering road ahead, but a single droplet of sweat ran down Natalie's graceful neck next to her pulse. All I wanted to do was taste it en route to her mouth.

I've always said that the problem with Natalie is not that she is completely irresistible. The problem is that she knows it. As though she could read my mind, she turned, her delicately slanted eyes hidden behind her sunglasses, her cupid's bow lips twisted in a smirk.

"My stars and garters, Ashley James Campbell is giving me the fuck me eyes."

I laughed. "I don't think I can spare the moisture. Besides, in a little over two hours, we'll be able to fuck in the comfort of air conditioning."

She moaned. "Right now, I'd take that over the sex."

"That'd be a first."

"Desperate times, my love."

"Next time, we'll make the drive at night. Live and learn."

"Oh, we're going back to Vegas a lot?"

"We could be Vegas people. I'll start wearing bowling shirts, get a pompadour..."

"You're joking, but I don't hate that idea."

"What, really?"

"I think it'll look good with your whole thing." She gestured at me, as though summing up my being.

"My whole thing?"

"You know, the whole film school nerd growing into his looks thing," she said.

I laughed, reaching over and putting a hand on her thigh. "Thanks, dollface. Oh, and happy birthday."

"Thanks. What's this big surprise?"

"You know what a surprise is, right?"

She stuck her tongue out at me. My hand wandered over and found a place on her thigh. "Can you give me a hint?"

"You're gonna love it."

"You're already promising me a concert and a nice dinner and I know you're gonna hit this, so..."

"So..."

"Is it bigger than a breadbox?"

I wanted to distract her. My hand migrated from her thigh to the button at the top of her shorts, and with a flick of my wrist, undid it. "What about boxes?"

"And what ever could you be doing?" she mused.

"Don't know what you mean," I said, sliding the fly down. I slipped my hand inside the tight denim.

"Oh my," I said, my hand resting against her rapidly moistening folds.

"I go without underwear and it takes you this long to notice," she teased.

"I was driving!" I protested.

"Well, you can...

oh

." Her thought was obliterated by a moan as I slid my fingers over her turgid button and into her pussy. She rocked against me, throwing her head back.

"Yeah, let's see how well you talk now."

"Shut up and keep fingering," she sighed, clamping her thighs around my hand and rolling her hips. She came loudly not too long after, pulling my hand from its work, sliding my fingers into her mouth to lick them clean. "Okay, well, that killed fifteen minutes," she sighed.

Natalie

I'd never seen Vegas before. I was a PNW girl. Ash acted like this was just something people in L.A. did, and he pretended the drive wasn't all that bad. I think he got blindsided by how long it ended up being, but I wasn't going to hold it against him.

After all, this was my birthday.

As the city came into view, this decadent glass-and-steel oasis in the middle of the punishing desert heat, I looked over at the man driving. Warmth, the good kind, not the kind currently trying to turn me into a prune, bloomed inside me. I used to be annoyed with how much I loved him. Now? He was spending way too much on a birthday weekend. He was perpetually broke, working at the lowest rung of the film industry, but he'd saved up to show me a good time.

I still had another year of college before graduation, but when it was done, I had every intention of moving in with him. Never thought we'd up here considering how we got together, but it felt right. Ash and Natalie, Natalie and Ash. Didn't hurt that there was often a third name in the mix, and it wasn't always the same one either.

The pleasant feeling in my belly sent happy tendrils through my body. I squirmed in my seat, wondering if he might give me another handy. No, the best things come to those who wait. Better get myself good and revved up and after the concert, then I could do things right.

Normally, after a schoolyear ended, I flew right home. I'd see my break-girlfriend Morgan for a couple months, play too much soccer, and work in my local multiplex. That was still on the agenda, but this year, I'd stuck around to play house for a week, which would culminate in this birthday weekend. Then on Tuesday I'd fly home to Olympia, and start things up with Morgan. Maybe I'd get to meet her girlfriend this summer. Maybe I could get Ash to fly up and the four of us could have a good time.

And now I wanted another handy again. Great.

We drove onto the Strip, and I had to admit, there was nothing like it in the world. It looked like a mall crossed with a theme park, and pedestrians were wandering out drinking yards of alcoholic Slurpees. Seemed like the perfect place to celebrate turning twenty-one.

"Which one are we staying at?"

He nodded to a cramped skyline where skyscrapers crowded around a miniature Statue of Liberty, all behind a rollercoaster. "Only one place for the number one Scorsese fan."

"It looks like a Terry Gilliam movie."

"The whole city is a big prank that got out of hand and now everyone's too embarrassed to say anything."

We went inside, and the roar of the casino wasn't something I was prepared for. Banks of electronic games were arranged haphazardly that beeped and booped in an endless cacophony. The air was a mix of piped in perfume and stale cigarettes. After being out in the desert, the atmosphere was a relief. Ash made his way through the lobby and to this day I have no idea how he knew where he was going. We checked in at a desk that looked more like the front of a bank, and they gave us our room.

We rode the elevator up to the ninth floor and made our way down a hallway. This whole place felt like a maze. There was a movie here, and I was willing to bet Ash had a half-finished screenplay on his laptop all about it. I'd ask him later.

The door opened. The room was ritzy, or at least it looked that way to a broke-ass college girl. The bathroom was directly inside on the right. A queen-size bed took up the center of the room, pointed at a big flatscreen. A small table and a pair of chairs sat over by the window. The décor was mid-century modern, making the room look like it was right out of

Mad Men

. I went over to the window and got a nice view of the street below and the casinos across the way. In the late afternoon, Vegas had a kind of tawdry beauty that momentarily awed me.

"Nat?"

"What's up?"

"I forgot something at the desk." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "I'll be right back."

"I'm going to take a shower," I said. "Get ready for the concert."

"That's a good idea."

Something was going on with Ash, but I couldn't quite put my finger on what. He was a bit jumpy for no reason I could figure. Probably the birthday surprise. If they came out and sang at the steakhouse later, I'd know for sure. That was exactly the kind of cheesy thing that would annoy me if anyone other than Ash was behind it. Actually, it would still annoy me if he did that, but the difference was I'd forgive him.

I stripped out of my clothes by the window, a tiny thrill of being exposed, though I knew that the odds anyone was looking was astronomically small. I still posed in front of the window for a bit before realizing that with the tint, even in the infinitesimal chance someone was looking, they still wouldn't see me. Oh well, their loss. The bathroom was spacious and white, a mirror along one wall. A glass shower stall stood in one end, and on the other, a giant tub with jets. I stared at it for a bit, then decided that would be later, maybe post-concert, with company.

I put my bag of toiletries on the counter, then turned on the shower, and stepped into the spray. I washed the day off me, scrubbing myself with the soap. After a moment of consideration, I fetched my shaving stuff from my bag. I did my pits, my legs, and finished up by giving my pussy a fresh shave. Wasn't much there, but I wanted to have the old girl perfectly smooth for Ash tonight.

When I finished, I found Ash standing outside the stall, head cocked, staring. I struck a little pose. "Anything you like?"

"Everything."

"You can have the shower next."

"Next?"

"You're not getting anything until my tummy is full of steak and my ears are full of Peter Murphy. Then if you're very lucky, you will be able to cum inside this temple."

He smirked, and again I felt like I was missing something. "You're right, you're right." He wandered out of the room and I had a pang of regret right as I imagined him pressing me up against the wall of the shower and fucking me until I screamed. I shivered and turned off the shower, toweling myself off. It could wait. That would only make it better.

I gave myself a once-over in the mirror. I had the body I'd earned from years of collegiate soccer, all long and lean lines of sleek muscle. I loved my body and I wanted to maintain it. Next year, I'd be jumping into Hollywood and I'd be starting at the bottom where Ash was now. He'd been putting in crazy hours for little reward, and it had started hurting his confidence. Thankfully, he'd started to get a little traction.

This past January, he'd been working on a low-budget thriller and he'd happened to get snowed in with the star, a former model named Anna Call. He'd spent a week charming the pants off her, and she'd liked his writing. He's a good writer and I'm sure the sex they'd been having hadn't hurt. He's good at that too. I was glad he'd finally taken that green light he'd had since the beginning of our relationship. I just wish I'd gotten a chance to be with Anna too. I was as big a fan as he was, even if he's seen her first.

I went from appraising my muscle tone to pay attention to my smooth pale gold complexion. It was a unique shade and I loved it, a gift from my Chinese dad and white mom. It glows under the right light, and sometimes I get little gold freckles in the summer. My breasts aren't big, but they're buoyant, and I have small, cute nipples. My pussy might be my best feature, a shapely mound with a modest slit, but open me up and, well, I'd never had any complaints in taste, shape, or aroma.

I leaned to the mirror and started my makeup. I didn't wear much normally, but I did have an eyeliner addiction. My eyes are my best feature, wide and catlike, with a pretty fold at the corners. They're brown, but depending on the light that can be chocolate all the way to a burnished gold.

I have a heart-shaped face and frankly, I always thought my lips could be a little fuller. I have a beauty mark on the right side of my cheek that I've always been fond of. One time in high school, I made it darker so I could be Marie Antoinette for Halloween. My teachers did not like the guillotine prop.

I redid the buns on top of my head, getting them nice and even. It was a new style, and I kept thinking I'd chop it all off down to my normal pixie cut, but I liked the novelty for now. When I could afford it, I planned to get a two-tone dye job. Maybe that would be my gift to myself after my first movie job.

My goal for makeup that night was goth, but not too goth. Goth adjacent. Goth curious. I put on some dark lipstick, a touch of foundation, and then went absolutely nuts on my eyes. Put me in a black tank top and jeans, and I could pass for Death from

Sandman

, and leaned into that with some heavy eyeliner, complete with a little curlicue from one down to my high cheekbone.

I put on the outfit I'd picked, a sleeveless and short black babydoll minidress, and a black velvet choker with an ankh. The last bit of the outfit, my big black platform boots, would complete the ensemble.

I came out of the bathroom to find Ash on the bed, watching an old episode of

The Simpsons

. "Holy god," he said when he got a look at me, Homer's drunken post-chili cookoff rampage immediately forgotten.

"You can still call me Natalie," I said, giving him a curtsy. "Now go get cleaned up. And no spanking the monkey either."

"The monkey will go unspanked," he vowed, giving me another perusal on his way to the bathroom.

I got out of the way. I didn't want him to give me a smack on the ass like he sometimes liked to do. He'd find out I wasn't wearing panties and that was a revelation I wanted to save for later, when I could

really

fuck with him.

He came out of the bathroom in black, a Bowie shirt, tight jeans, and boots. It looked good on his lean frame. He had done his thick, dark hair up in something like a pompadour, and I'm pretty sure that was for my benefit. His usual Buddy Holly glasses completed the ensemble.

"You're too cute," I said. "I just want to smoosh your face."

"It's all yours," he said.

I stood on my toes and brushed my lips over his. "Smoosh," I said.

"Let's go, gorgeous. Dinner and then a show."

He took my hand and we went out the door. We rode the elevator down to the lobby, and though it was hours later, it was like no time had passed. I'd even be willing to bet that the same people sat in front of the same machines with the same expressions on their faces.

"We're gonna gamble, right?" I asked. My attention went to the real tables. Blackjack seemed fun.

"I was thinking tomorrow? Maybe after checkout?"

"Ugh, and then the drive back."

"You can sleep the whole way," he said, putting an arm around me.

I leaned into him. The thing about Ash was he always made me feel taken care of. "I can try."

Ash

My eyes were glued to Natalie as she moved. The babydoll dress she'd chosen was short, and whenever she moved, the skirt flared, teasing me with a glimpse of smooth pale gold flesh. On the way to the restaurant, she turned once, and I saw the bottom of her ass for just a moment. I saw not a swatch of material, so it was clear she'd decided to wear a thong. I felt myself hardening. I had been wanting to fuck her all day, but I'd held off. There was, after all, a surprise in store for her.

The idea of her in a thong was enough to make me pop already. And focusing on Natalie, when she was looking like she was, well that didn't exactly lead to longevity. I could already feel a cold spot in my underpants. There'd be a nice spot of precum there when we finally got down to business.

We ordered and they carded Natalie. When she produced her Washington State license with a flourish, the waitress grinned. "Happy birthday. First round's on the house."

The steakhouse was more than I could afford, but then, so was the whole trip. In for a penny. And looking across the table at Natalie, that made it all worthwhile. She was looking around the fancy surroundings like she couldn't believe she was here, then she caught my eye, and went from sweet to smoldering in the amount of time it took a firework to catch.

The steaks were as tender as butter and the drinks were like sweet fire. As good as it was, the better part was the way Natalie enjoyed it.

"You know, I could get used to this," she said.

"We'll get there. You just have to graduate."

"And you have to option a screenplay."

"I'm closer now than I was."

She looked me in the eye. "You will get there. You're smart and talented and an incredible lay."

"How does the last part factor in?"

"It doesn't. But I thought I'd mention it."

"I do appreciate the vote of confidence."

A grin spread over her face, and then she turned serious. "I love you."

"I know."

"Solo'd me," she teased.

I paid the check and we walked one casino, through the crowds of tourists to the theater. It was intimate, a bar-style setting with an open dance floor surrounded by stools and tables, with a balcony above. Natalie, as expected, made a beeline for the press of bodies already assembling in front of the stage. I would be her backstop. Though between the two of us, she was in far better shape, I was also about half a foot taller and had the force field that a person like me tended to have.

Besides, that meant she would be pressing back against me. When the man himself took the stage, Natalie popped, throwing her arms in the air and cheering. She could say she was mostly gay all she wanted, but I was smart enough to know that if Peter Murphy gave her a shot, she'd take it.

He launched into his set, bombastic and romantic, the heavy bass thudding through us. Natalie danced, as much as the cramped environs would allow. This meant her grinding back into me, her ass running over my crotch in ever-tightening circles. At first, her touch was light and random, but as it launched into her favorite song, the song we'd fucked to too many times to count, "Mirror to My Woman's Mind," her dancing changed.

She moved her ass, finding where I had swelled against my leg. Her cheeks slid on either side of me, up and down, side to side. The fingers of sensation ran up me, plucking away the parts of my brain that recognized that I was in public, and this would be the wrong place to lift her dress and fuck her. I imagined it, her body covered in a glittery sheen of concert sweat, me plowing into her again and again until I filled her. Lines of pearly cum running down her thighs.

I found myself touching the tops of her thighs where the hem of her dress brushed against the skin. She danced closer, now insistently. She was now pressing hard, sliding up and down my length, demanding. It was as though she had the same fantasy as I. She wanted me, and I needed her. I knew this was stupid. I couldn't do this, but I also couldn't resist. As I said, the problem with Natalie wasn't that she was irresistible, it was that she

knew

she was irresistible.

My fingers slid up her hips, hunting for the band of her panties. Maybe I would slide my hand inside the elastic, give her another round of what she'd gotten in the car. I was supposed to wait. I'd been told, but Natalie was like a drug. Fingering her in the middle of a concert venue was a sudden fantasy, but no less powerful for its immediacy.

I brushed my fingertips high over her hips, where I could feel her muscles coiling, and the touch of her pelvis. I found nothing there. The thought, in big, neon letters, hit me.

Natalie isn't wearing underwear

. That dress was so goddamn short, one false move, she'd be showing off everything she had. I'd caught glimpses, I just assumed the line of a thong was between her golden ass cheeks, but no. There was nothing at all. And somehow, the absence of that thin line of material was better.

She felt me make the realization, pressing her ass hard against me, the stroke slow and powerful. My cock strained against my pants. I needed to be inside her. I leaned over her shoulder, kissing her graceful neck, relishing the savory taste of her sweat.

"Surprise," she purred.

"I want to fuck you so bad."

"You're gonna." She reached behind me, wrapping an arm about my neck. Her grinding was harder, running up and down in maddening strokes. I kept thinking she would catch her dress on me, that when she went down, the dress would stay and she would be exposed. Maybe it would, maybe it did. We were hemmed in, too close, the music seducing all of us. The orgasm boiled in me, ready to spill out. I was perpetually half a heartbeat from pulling my cock out in the middle of the theater.