Annabelle's cotton sheets have ducks on them. They're not made of as nice of a material as the satin I'm laying on now, but the ducks are so cute and so her. I can imagine Annabelle's face when she'd determined that I stood her up on New Year's Eve. I feel so horrible and so cold.
We met three weeks ago. Annabelle kept glancing over at me in the coffee house, obvious and sweet.
She buried her nose in her book as I walked to her, suddenly shy. Her red oxford vest was rumpled and her white collars were uneven. Her tapered khakis were wrinkled and her clunky low heels were scuffed. Annabelle looked for all the world like the sweet-sexy literature grad student she was in her untidy -- but flattering -- clothes. She read Jane Austen, a Penguin paperback
Emma.
Adorable.
I tugged her high black ponytail as I passed her table, then grinned mischievously at her as she turned at my childish affront.
"I'm Lea. Are you going to ask me to sit, or just pout at me for teasing you?"
Annabelle smiled and gestured at the seat across the bistro table from her. I sat and took her IPhone from the tabletop, using it to dial and then hanging up at one ring.
"What was that?" She's cute when she's off kilter.
"I wanted your name and number. So now we can just enjoy the deep conversation we're about to have without me worrying over contact information." I smiled my best disarming smile.
"We're about to have a deep conversation?" Annabelle can blush and sparkle at the same time.
"That depends." I surveyed her dog-eared copy. She'd closed the book, but kept her page with her index finger. "How many times have you read
Emma
and why?"
"Every December. Just to help me get in the spirit." She shrugged half-apologetically.
Three hours of conversation on cabbages and kings later- along with a few winks from me and not entirely innocent touches of her pretty hands - I was walking her home in the cool evening air.
I kissed her on the steps to her apartment. A soft, Vancouver-in-December snow dusted us with powder as my tongue slipped between her lips to bring my warm wetness into her pliant mouth.
"So, are you going to invite me up?" My hands pressed beneath her winter coat, beneath the silly white shirt tail, and beneath the oxford vest, to find the small of her back. My cold hands on her hot skin made her shiver and press closely into me. "It's all cold and snowy out here. I wanna get inside."
I hoped she'd ask me in. I'm charismatic and sexy with my long, dirty blonde hair, my large, perky breasts, and my undeniable sexual swagger. And I'm hella fun. More often than not, I'm invited up.
"Lea, we just met." Sweet Annabelle looked doubtful. "Can we get to know each other a little more first?"
"Sure." I kept my arms around her. "I'm a Libra. You?"
She slapped my shoulder playfully from inside my arms.
"You know what I mean. Can we wait until next time?"
I probably could have pushed my way in, but decided to wait. I wish I would have taken advantage of the opportunity.
"Of course." I bent to nuzzle my cold cheek against hers, thinking. My choice for our next date needed to be uncontroversial and not in either of our wheelhouses, but still had to demonstrate taste, keenness, and sensitivity. Most importantly, by the social conventions of dating, whatever we did would need to be at least three wasted days away so I wouldn't seem desperate. "There's a showing of
Planet Ant: Life Inside the Colony
at the university theater on the 10th at 8:30. Interested?"
"Yeah. That sounds great." She was lying. No one wants to watch ants for 90 minutes, but at least I knew she really wanted to see me again.
"Cool. I'll meet you here at 8 on Friday." I went back to kissing her slowly in the softly falling snow. Annabelle kissed me back, her tongue shyly darting into my mouth. As she gained confidence, her oral acrobatics thrilled me. We made out on the street like teenagers for the better part of an hour. Then my fingertips found the shell of her ear, and both felt nearly frost-bitten.
I broke our kiss. She whimpered, but one of us needed to be responsible.
"I may not be going up, Annabelle, but you have to get in out of this snow. I'll see you Friday?" I took her hand and placed a courtly kiss on her dainty wrist.
"Okay." Annabelle held on to my hand as she stepped backwards up the three entryway stairs to her foyer. She tripped on the top step, I guess expecting one more.
For a split second, she looked like she'd take a spill onto the cement sidewalk, but I caught Annabelle falling forward into my arms. I've never been more grateful for quick reflexes. Letting her go immediately wasn't going to happen either.
I righted her and kissed her forehead.
"Little distracted were you?" I asked cheekily.
It brought that charming blush I wanted to see again. I put light kisses all over her flushed face and cinched my left arm firmly around her waist. Gripping the railing with my right hand, I walked/kissed her safely up the steps and opened her door for her before letting Annabelle go.
I strolled through the chill to the bus stop and paid more attention on the ride home to the Christmas lights and garlanding that changed the hues and mood of the city. Into the spirit and all.
Annabelle stood waiting for me on her step at 7:45 on Friday. Her face lit up when I handed her an eggnog latte, steaming in the cold winter air. She wore gloves and earmuffs, apparently prepared this time for some outdoor attention. She wore Uggs that crunched the snow under our feet.
We left our cold-weather gear on the racks just inside the theater door and found seats. I spent an hour and a half of my life sitting next to her, smelling the soft cinnamon of the latte mix with the undertones of her sweet-scented perfume, but learning about leafcutter ants. That's an hour and a half of my life that I'll never get back, and I could have been touching her.
The error was quickly corrected. We only half-hearted discussed ants on the way back to her apartment. This time I didn't wait at the door for an invitation. I took her gloved hand (I know, less sexy, but what else could I do?) and led her upstairs to her apartment door.
I waited there expectantly, making inane small talk as Annabelle fumbled with her keys. I liked her nervousness.
Annabelle started to make the standard apologies made by all grad students living in tiny, crummy apartments while I removed my coat and scarf. I stopped her by starting the rather arduous challenge of getting all her clothes off.
The earmuffs, Uggs, and gloves came off quickly. Her knit sweater (Yes, with reindeer on it. Shut up. It's cute.) lifted over her head to reveal firm porcelain flesh. I explored her shoulders with my mouth while my fingers went to unbutton and loose the fly of her jeans.
Her bra was simple white, unhooking in the back under the manipulation of my nimble fingers while my mouth continued to distract and confound her with its speed moving across her skin.
"Slow down, Lea, slow down." She put my hands around her neck, but only after I'd gotten her bra completely off to free her plump breasts capped with candy nipples. "Let me get my bearings first."
Annabelle's gentle hands caressed my face and neck. Her soft lips found mine and stopped the earth turning for a few moments.
"Now you be still." Annabelle wagged her finger at me with a smiling frown, causing her breasts to jiggle invitingly. I doubted authoritarian play from her would be in our future. It was fun to let her call a few shots though. Before I topped her, of course.
She knelt in front of me, raising one of my feet and then the other to take off my snow boots and knit socks. I watched entranced as she undid my fly and pulled down my jeans, leaving me oddly top heavy in a UofV sweat shirt and a periwinkle thong.
Correcting the problem, Annabelle stood and took off my shirt without taking off my periwinkle demi-cup bra. She stepped back to admire me.
"Lea, you're femininity perfected." Her eyes devoured my body. For the first time since my first time, I felt exposed and a little anxious myself. All my unaccustomed nervousness and pent up excitement seemed to funnel through my tummy and directly into my pussy.
Annabelle's sexy stare continued to travel up and down the length of my body, without her moving to touch the breasts offered up to her or the sex that she set afire. She shimmied out of her jeans and cotton panties, but never stopped watching me twitch like a waiting racehorse.
"Come with me?"
I followed her dutifully into her bedroom, not even reaching out to goose her delightful ass. She turned to face me, abashed again. Her assertiveness capacity was apparently maxed.
"I just wanted to see you. Will you touch me again, now? Please?" Her tentative voice aroused the aggressor in me.
"Yes, Annabelle." I walked behind her, played one hand across her bellybutton and over her hip, and groped one of her firm, full breasts with the other. "I'm about to touch you a lot," I whispered to her in a voice lowered with mock-menace.
Annabelle shivered against me again.
I easily pushed her face down onto the quilted covers on her bed. She gasped in surprise at the sudden transition, but voiced no other objection. Climbing over her, I kissed and fondled my way from the curve of her shoulder to the cleft of her ass. Reaching her flawless globes, I kissed and kneaded her asscheeks and spreading upper thighs until her moans changed in pitch from want to need.
My lips brushed hers, puffy and ready, begging for my attentions. Annabelle's moans verged on musical. Silver bells tinkling for me.
I dipped my tongue into her depth for a taste of honey. And immediately wanted more.
My thumb sussed out Annabelle's clit and attacked it with strokes and flicks while I tonguefucked her with short breaks to slurp up the large quantities of honey she produced. The pitch of her moans changed again; this time to something more animalistic than need.
When her moans became muffled and her hips began bouncing, I popped my head up to check in. She'd smushed the quilts together as a pillow for her to bite so as to dampen her sounds as she drew close to coming. I was having none of that.
