I'm Seducing You

Author's note: Some stories just pop in your head one day, grab you, and don't let go until you write them. This is an example of that. I just couldn't focus on the long series I've been working on, because ideas and sentences from this scene kept flooding my thoughts. So I gave in and wrote it in three days. Nearly a record for me. Now I can go back to my series :)

I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you think it was worth the detour, please leave a comment or send me a message. Us writers live for these, it's the only compensation we get.

As always, my stories leave something for the imagination. Don't say I did warn you!

Disclaimer: All characters are 18+.

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"I'm seducing you."

My hand traveled down the newly-created space between the two flaps of my white velour bathrobe, furthering the schism of fabric and revealing more of the skin beneath it.

She hissed.

I hadn't toweled perfectly, leaving something for the bathrobe to soak up and the hotel room A/C to dry. Now, I was even more thankful for that. My index glided over the slightly damp skin in the valley between my breasts, slowly but confidently daring to go further south, exploring territories I knew she craved to touch.

I didn't take my eyes off hers; hers were fleeting between mine and the adventures of my finger, taking in my face then my body in a confused haze. Like an alcoholic who can't pick between their tequila and their vodka, she was drinking in both sights of me, delving into my stare and staring into my chest.

The sound of her breathing had seemingly stopped after that hiss. The disparity between the deafening silence of the room and the loudness of the heart beats thumping in my ears grew with each passing second.

My finger had now made it to my belly button. I dug my nail in the soft skin, triggering a shudder of pleasure in my entire body. She winced and finally let out the breath she'd been holding for the last minute. I made a mental note, planning to later discover if this was an erogenous zone for her too.

I lifted my hand and placed it at the hem of the bathrobe covering my left chest. Her eyes followed the move intently. I wanted to go faster, but I couldn't risk scaring her off. Besides, there was something languid in the air, a sense of stillness that contrasted with the crazy chaos and hectic running around of the past few weeks. I had been patient enough, waiting for a moment like this to present itself; I could remain unhurried for a little longer, even if I ached to discover her taste in my mouth.

I made sure she saw me grab the fabric, then I paused. Our eyes met for the hundredth time.

I whispered, "Tell me to stop, Carmen."

For several seconds, I saw a raging battle in her dark brown eyes. She wanted this, perhaps more than I did, but she was digging deep to unearth the will to stop me. I don't know what I would've done if she had, but I'm glad I didn't have to find out.

Her only answer was to lower her eyes a few seconds later and fix my hand, in a tacit agreement with my ongoing seduction. Internally, I cried victory; externally, I made sure she just saw me smirk. I wanted her to be completely aware of my power in that moment, and even more aware that she had given me that power and surrendered to it.

I slowly slid the left side of the bathrobe open, revealing more and more of my skin. I didn't need to look, I knew the contrast between the creamy whiteness of my tit and the dark tan that surrounded it. A few weeks in the Brazilian sun tend to do that to you.

For the next seconds, her eyes stopped their hectic up-and-down trips, instead focusing on the sweet treasure that I was uncovering. Her lips were parted, her body still, her neck tense. She hadn't reached that state of utter abandon yet, but we were pretty darn close.

When my finger hit my areola, I felt it immediately pucker under my touch. I knew my nipple was already hard as a rock because the velour of the bathrobe, while soft like a cloud, was still grazing it painfully as it slid over it. One more second and it'd be free.

The fabric caught over my nipple, but a little push took it over the bump. It slid open, but remained hanging, held by my shoulder and the waist belt.

Completely disrobing wasn't my main concern now, though. My attention was all taken by the gorgeous black-haired raven in the mirror and the way her lips were slightly ajar, her eyes transfixed, and her chest heaving.

"You want me to pinch it?"

She was too far gone to walk back now, but I wanted her to really acknowledge her desire. She wasn't a spectator here, she was an active participant, and in whatever version of our future we were going to evolve into, she had to know that this was her doing as much as it was mine.

I wouldn't let her wave this off as 'that night in the hotel when my daughter's best friend came on to me through a mirror and I was so exhausted and emotionally drained that I did nothing to stop her.' No. I wanted to leave her zero excuses and zero doubts that she'd willingly and excitedly participated in this seduction. That she'd been part of it from the start. Well, nearly.

I could vividly remember how this began. We had spent several hours chilling in one of the resort's private pools. We had floated carelessly, talked a bit, drunk Caipirinhas, and let the tension of our overworked and exhausted muscles drain out. After our quick poolside showers, we had two hours to kill before our scheduled dinner, so we got back to our room and the cameraman, our unwavering shadow for the past weeks, finally left us alone to rest. We threw ourselves on our respective twin beds and started talking a bit more. All the things we didn't say on camera. A quick review of the challenge that got us this reward. A bit of strategy planning for the next days. Jokes about what our competitors must be feeling now, knowing they were backpacking and hitchhiking in the humid Brazilian sun, while we got an air-conditioned 4-wheel ride to this 5-star resort and were going to be tended to like queens for the next 18 hours.

At one point, mid-conversation, I raised myself from my lying down position on the bed to a seated one. My eyes met hers in the large mirror on the wall facing our beds. She was sitting as well, her legs stretched straight, the bathrobe showing everything from her tan, muscular mid-thighs to her toes, and from the middle of her cleavage to the top of her lickable neck. She gave me one of those long, lingering looks that I'd become so familiar with, where words flew effortlessly between our eyes, raw and honest, without the dozens of layers we were too careful to add when interacting in front of the production crew.

We kept talking a bit, but with every passing minute, I let my eyes roam more freely over her body. She allowed herself the same luxury. Maybe I was emboldened by the Caipirinhas, maybe I was skating on the technicality that staring at her reflection in a mirror wasn't the same as staring at her. No matter the reason, I just found my hand loosening the velour robe's belt a little then starting to part it open.

To say that she was shocked would be an understatement. She nearly screamed, "What do you think you're doing?" I remained stoic and gave her my best confrontational answer, "What does it look like I'm doing?"

She was going to shout again, but she caught herself and lowered her voice — a force of habit when you've been living with a reality TV film crew that followed your every move and found-slash-created drama where there was none. We didn't know how soundproof these walls were, or where our crew had retreated to. A second shout would be tempting the devil with the blinking red light.

Her voice came stern, but low. She frowned, and I tried not to smile at how adorable her fake concern was. "What are... What is..."

That's how I answered her with that fateful "I'm seducing you," and that's how I was now holding my finger a few inches away from my nipple waiting for her to ask me to touch it.

It's cute how she still believed she had control over what was happening. I decided to play along with her indecision for a bit.

"You can still walk away now. Pretend none of this happened. Pretend the attraction and chemistry between us doesn't exist," I shrugged. Her eyes flew up to meet mine. I knew the mere mention of anything between us would light up all her inner moral and religious belief triggers. She was freaking out, but I decided she better freak out now and willfully continue this, than go on with this but freak out later.

"You can get up, get dressed, and get out of this room in less than two minutes," I continued calmly, laying out how easy that option was for her. In my very egotistic way, I wanted her to be fully aware of how simple it'd be to leave, so she'd know she's making the conscious decision to stay. With me. And my hard nipple. And every other uncovered or covered part of my body that glistened and puckered and dripped and craved nothing but her touch.

"The decision is yours, but know that the moment you tell me to pinch this hard, aching, sensitive nipple, there's no going back." Her eyes naturally traveled down to look at the subject of our conversation, but I wanted them on mine for the next part. "Look at me." She did. "I'll pinch it for you until you come pinch it yourself. I'll squeeze my tits until you squeeze them yourself. I'll lick my lips until you lick and bite them yourself. And I'll touch my wet pussy until you touch and finger it yourself."

I spread my thighs and, with my left hand, the one that wasn't hanging near my chest, I pushed one of the bathrobe's sides to reveal that same dripping pussy. I briefly wondered if the angle allowed her to see it in the mirror from her vantage point, but when her eyes skipped down and remained transfixed for several seconds, my question was answered.

"You're trying to tell yourself it's just a nipple, and I'm the one doing the touching, you're not part of it, but make no mistake about it, Carmen, you will do everything I said and you will end up with your head buried between my thighs. There's no stopping the train once it's on that track."

I breathed out and waited. Perhaps I was pushing her too far too fast. But I felt that this was the right pace to set for the ongoing tug-of-war between her carnal desire for me and whatever archaic beliefs she grew up with and still held dear.

Everything in the past weeks, perhaps even years, had been leading us to this moment. It was the right time, the right strategy, and the perfect tempo to push her over the edge and get her to fall into my arms.

We had met a couple of years ago when Maria, her daughter who also happened to be my best friend and colleague, invited me over to lunch with her mom. Nothing went well that day. Based on Maria's outgoing and friendly personality, and her description of her fun mom, I had expected a warm welcome and a breezy lunch. Instead, I was met with a cold stare and a distant attitude. Things became icier and icier between us as the months passed. Maria couldn't understand what was happening and kept trying to bridge the gap between us, but nothing worked. We'd even become a bit snippy and confrontational, so we started to actively avoid running into each other.

I thought it was the age difference. I was ten years older than Maria, so Carmen must've feared I wasn't really friends with her mid-twenties daughter, or was even taking advantage of her generosity and enthusiasm by throwing extra work her way. None of that was true, obviously. For some reason, I'd instantly clicked with Maria at work and we'd become close friends. Age didn't factor in. And the workload was my way of helping her progress faster. I had always had male supervisors who hindered my career, so I lost many precious years and had to fight with all my might to improve and grow into bigger roles. Maria deserved to have someone push her forward instead of back. I tried to be that someone. But I digress.

After dozens of chats with Carmen about me, Maria got her to finally open up and discovered the real issue was my, well, rather obvious sexual orientation. The cropped hair and masculine clothing didn't hide the ball much. Apparently, her mom was concerned about my 'sinful ways' and feared I'd 'corrupt' her daughter too. Funny thing is I know no one straighter than Maria -- not even a whiff of a bi tendency there.

Nothing Maria said could change her mom's conviction, so we remained estranged, trying to tip-toe around each other. We rarely met, and if we did, it was brief enough that we didn't have to say more than a 'hi' and a 'bye.'

Which leads us to this 'Hitch' competition, a mix between 'The Amazing Race' and 'Survivor,' where your only way of moving forward was hitchhiking or hiking between multiple remote and/or urban destinations, then figuring out how to eat and sleep without any money. I'd been watching the show for a few years and really wanted to participate, but none of my friends were up for it. So I signed up as a solo contestant, looking to be paired with another solo stranger. The absolute surprise when we landed in São Paulo?! Seeing

her

, Carmen, the woman who hated me, and discovering that she was my partner for the adventure.

Later I learned she was a fan of the show as well, and Maria encouraged her to participate solo, but wrote to the TV production team to tell them she wanted us to be paired to see if this adventure would help us find some common ground. A Hail Mary of sorts; otherwise, she'd know there was no hope at all. Ever the drama seekers, the producers liked the idea and went for it.

Obviously, we butted heads from the first challenge. Like all our competitors, our legs had been tied and locked together, multi-legged race style. She wanted us to hop across the airport then the city like that, instead of giving me a minute to solve a logic riddle and get the lock's code. I stood in place and refused to move, demanding she trust me. She nearly dragged me, but I had enough time to figure out the answer. A few seconds later, we were free of each other and running ahead faster than everyone else.

You must've guessed that I was the brains, she was the muscles. Athletic, daily jogger and frequent swimmer, she was built like a compact tank -- a very attractive, Latin, mid-forties tank, mind you. My biggest athletic accomplishment was that I could walk five miles without dying. But I'm smart, determined, resourceful, unapologetic, and I never give up.

Against all odds, we won that first challenge and $2000 to go with it. With time, we realized our explosive characters were also pretty complimentary and we started putting each other's strengths first instead of hindering ourselves. As the competition progressed and other pairs fell by the wayside, we grew stronger, but also closer. We no longer spat at each other every five minutes. We listened a bit more and talked

with

each other instead of

at

each other. We didn't immediately jerk away if we touched by accident. We looked out for each other when there was danger on the road, and cared for the small scratches and injuries we inevitably accumulated. And we chatted more and more when the cameras were off and away, layer by layer unveiling our personal stories and personalities.

All of that happened in about 10 days. It's crazy to say that, but under such stressful and extreme circumstances, and with us being 24/7 together, every day felt like a week, or a month. Maria would not believe it if we could call and tell her — we had no access to smartphones. We're sure she'd think we're pranking her.

Eventually, things evolved a bit further. I don't recall the exact moment, but we were joking and laughing more together. Then we started sitting next to each other in every car we hitched, even when there was ample space to spread out. Our chats never ended, and we always asked for each other's opinion on everything, from the competition to food and music to whatever random topic we happened to be discussing. Our celebratory hugs when we won a challenge became more authentic, tighter, longer. And our accidental hand brushes morphed into purposeful hand-holding in some intense moments of the adventure.

But it was that first time I caught her looking longingly at me during a challenge briefing that changed it all. A high-voltage current shot through my body and I was sucked into the dense darkness of her eyes. I flittered and twirled, like a thin paper caught in a whirlwind, and slowly dove into the epicenter of the tornado, her magnetic irises pulling me in stronger than gravity. The whole world disappeared for several long moments, until the show's presenter started talking. It broke the magic and I was slung back to reality. Thankfully, no one had noticed what had just happened between us, but I knew we couldn't risk it again.

From then on, whenever we got sucked into each other's gaze while there were other people around, I'd make the conscious effort to break contact and get her immediately out of that daze. As much as it pained me, I had to. I couldn't let strangers poke around us, around this, whatever it was and whatever it was on the way to becoming. However, the rare times we were by ourselves, I always let those long stares stretch indefinitely, enjoying the sparks that flew between us and hoping she'd become more and more aware of them.

Her approach to religion and sexuality hadn't changed, though. She still made off-hand comments about them -- and me -- while I avoided those topics like the plague; even the smallest allusions to them made me go on high-alert to change the subject immediately.

I knew I was falling for her. Hard, fast, bad. I didn't know if she realized she was falling for me too. And I had no idea how she'd react if she was confronted with that truth. I hadn't planned on doing it like this, I had no plans for it whatsoever actually, but I'd been waiting for the right moment to present itself. So here we were in that room, and here I was, playing it by instinct.

That instinct told me I had to get her to explicitly agree to go further. So when she barely nodded her head, in answer to my nipple question, I didn't accept the meek answer.

"Say it out loud."

Her eyes narrowed, begging me to not make her do it. Or hating me for making her do it. She glanced at my naked tit and cleared her throat.

Jump, baby, I'll catch you.

"Pinch it."

The immense relief I felt in that moment could only be overpowered by the heightened excitement that flooded my body.

I quickly pinched my nipple and rolled it between my fingers. My body jerked, my heels digging into the cushy mattress and lifting my ass a couple of inches in the air. The movement caused the bathrobe to loosen further, specifically below the belt. I didn't mind the accidental consequence one bit.

I heard her gulp. In the mirror, her reflection looked even more tense. Her eyes flew from my face to my chest to my nearly naked pussy, insatiably lapping up my most intimate parts but still entranced by this profound and passionate gaze that we shared. There was more than physical attraction between us, there was something deep and genuine and powerful. I knew it; I think she knew it as well.

"You wanna suck it?"

She started nodding then quickly caught herself and spoke aloud, just like I'd asked her. "Yes."

I could've told her to come to my bed immediately, but the seductress in me wanted to prolong the moment further. We were still in that tantalizing erotic phase, emotions heightened and bodies tingling with anticipation. As soon as we'd make the move, the potential future we were craving would be a very real present, and the profound hold I now had over her would be tempered. Call me dramatic, but I wanted more of this on-edge feeling.