Touch

The kettle was already half full, so I lit the burner and opened the coffee canister. Barely enough for a cup, it seemed. I poured the beans into the grinder and turned the dial, watching the paltry beans become a semi-fine powder that would hopefully work its magic for my morning routine.

In my office I sat pouring over books, using my system of various pens and annotating that developed out of habit over time. I sat staring at the screen, at the paragraph that I had typed twice and was about to delete again. I'm choosing to blame the lack of coffee this morning. I look at the clock and realize I have over an hour until the meeting. I'll frontload a day of productivity with an excellent cup of coffee, and a much-needed bag of beans.

A few cars crept along the streets, but for the most part the roads were empty. Six months ago this scene would have boggled the mind. But since the pandemic hit life has slowed significantly. There were surprising tiny joys, however. The feeling of being one of the only people up at such an early hour. A lone cat crossing a once-busy road at a leisurely pace. The chill air pure and crisp without the pollution of exhaust. These aren't concessions, just silver linings in a terrible era. I parked and put on my mask before walking in.

I was the only customer in the café, another anomaly which my introverted self secretly relished. Bag of beans in hand, I ordered a cappuccino and stood staring at vegan pastries in the refrigerated case. My mind wandered briefly, out of fatigue or offense I'm not sure. A brief touch on my hand brought me back, and my arm recoiled more strongly than I would have expected.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said the barista. "I just need to see the front of the bag." She said this as she pumped hand sanitizer into her hands and was rubbing them together. I did the same almost subconsciously.

"Are you all staying busy?" I asked, trying to appear less of a hypochondriac. It's sort of ingrained in people now, this fear of the virus. Of everyday germs suddenly attaining the superpower to incapacitate or kill.

"Yeah, it comes and goes. In about an hour things will be pretty steady until noon." She set the drink on the bar. Contactless is the term. I could see her smile as she wished me a good day. A smile is seen in the eyes now.

Back in my office, the screen took on a new form as I put together my part of the presentation. I was uploading a powerpoint to a shared drive in anticipation of not wanting to screenshare. People can get it themselves. We're all working from home, but it feels too connected in a sense. Boundaries in this virtual world are blurred. What once was mostly professional has become more personal, as people share elements of their lives that have been impacted by the virus. I was adding contacts when my phone vibrated.

"Tonight?" the message read. My heart, already racing from caffeine, sped up even more. My thighs parted almost reflexively, my breathing deepened momentarily. I touched over the words on my screen with my fingertip. "Yes," I responded.

The meeting started on time for most of us, the usual suspects who would come in late to work somehow also managed to be late working from home. The small talk in the meantime dominated by those who dominated conversations, and showed up on time to do so. I listened, smiled, replied curtly and courteously, but for the most part just wanted to get this over with. I enjoy my work, but I don't like this new world of working at home. Yes, it's possible to go in to the office, as long as I notify the proper person in HR so as to ensure my body can be kept at a safe distance from other bodies who also would like to be in the building at the same time.

Anyway, the presentation went well as far as I could tell. My part was organized and succinct. I don't like to drag things on more than necessary. A baby could be heard in the background, and our receptionist's frame would light up. She was "back" from maternity leave, but at least she could be home with her child. My phone lit up with a message from a group text of some co-workers. The baby crying was more of a nuisance to them. I said nothing, as I often tried to play the ghost in group text messages.

We ended the meeting 35 minutes later than scheduled, considering the late arrivals and more unnecessary small talk in the end. As the program closed, my smile faded and I slid the little window to the camera closed. I went to the kitchen and made a fresh cup of coffee. I spent the rest of the day in my panties and a tshirt, diligently working, my reward to come in the back of my mind.

After a long day of sitting I went cycling. Other cyclists wore masks, some even face shields. I considered myself safe outside, as I rode alone. I would get the occasional "Where's your mask?" yelled at me from a passing cyclist. After 15 miles I was properly sore in the right places. The warm shower felt good, and I used a bergamot gel as I washed and shaved myself smooth. Before the pandemic shaving was a burden I would gladly undertake for the pleasure of soft lips and an eager tongue. But with the new normal, this wasn't necessary. I still did it...partially to remember and partially in hope it would happen again.

I read for a while on the couch. I must have looked at the clock fifty times. Around 9pm I went into the bedroom. I put fresh sheets on the bed, and used the complementing bergamot linen spray which was subtle yet pleasant. The sheets felt cool and soft as I smoothed them with my hands. I fluffed the pillows. After brushing my teeth, I went to the front door and unlocked it by depressing the side button. I know that's unsafe...but this is just how we've done it since we started. And it's been fine. If something bad happens, I guess that's my lot.

Back in the bedroom I undressed and slid into the cool sheets. I lay in the dark partially recounting the day, thinking of petty work tasks, that bill I keep meaning to call about... Just then I heard the front door click and open. Then a button pressed to lock, and the door closed. This was our system. I reached to my nightstand and put on my mask. I could see a silhouette in the doorway as the figure entered my dark bedroom. Pleasantries were shared, clothing was removed and neatly put into a bag. My guest also donned a mask before getting into bed beside me.

I could feel the slow heat of my body transfer to cool skin beside me. What used to be kisses now had to be overcompensated for by everything but the mouth. I could feel hands touching mine, palms pushing against mine as our hands clasped and mine were pushed down into the mattress. A thigh contacted mine. A pause as the sound of ice cubes were jarred in a glass beside the bed. I felt the wet shock of cold on my nipple. A warm mouth and eager lips were replaced with titillation of cold by warm fingertips. I moaned and more was given, first to one nipple then the other. How I longed to feel her warm lips on my breasts, holding her body close as I looked down to see her softly, then eagerly kissing and sucking my nipples. But this was the new normal. I could hear her breathing through her mask, whispering things I couldn't readily understand. But my body knew, it remembered. Her tummy rested between my parted thighs as she teased my breasts. Knowingly or not, my hips pushed up into her.

Her hands explored over my tummy and hips, caressing my thighs as she positioned herself opposite me on the bed. My pussy was wet from her teasing me, and this transferred to hers as she pulled me closer by my legs. I propped myself up on my elbows, not that I could see all that well in the dark, but just to be as present as possible. I moaned loudly as our pussies touched and glided, smooth and slick. Our hips soon found a rhythm that benefited us both by the sound of it. Even the scent was palpable, in spite of our masks. I wanted to pin her down and press my lips to her mound (though this would have been frowned upon even before the restrictions, as I was to be a pure bottom in our arrangement). I was so hungry to feel her softness between my lips, to feel my tongue slip into each wet groove and explore. Our pace increased, and momentary climax would seize my clit, then subside. As foreplay, this was lovely. She was actively pushing against me now, her manner becoming a bit more assertive. I imagined for a moment that she'd take off her mask and bury her face between my thighs. She would tease me slowly and relentlessly until I begged for her to fuck me. But not now.

The drawer to the nightstand opened and closed, and she pulled away from me to get situated. I glided my fingernails along her back slowly, as I heard her secure the harness about her hips. I licked my lips, remembering what we often would do at this point. How I'd kneel at the end of the bed and suck her off, her hand caressing my cheeks or teasing my breasts as I felt the silicone fill my mouth, the scent of her pussy inspiring greater enthusiasm. But not tonight.

She kneeled on the bed, facing me, again pulling my legs toward her. She teased my slit with the head of the toy, getting it wet from our tribbing. She pulled it back and replaced it with her finger, checking to feel how wet I was. She rubbed my slit gently, playing with my lips between her fingers...tugging and rubbing. She pressed her palm against my clit, which was responsive. "That's my girl," she said quite clearly beneath her mask. I could hear her fingers rub my wet pussy, and the way she was intermittently teasing my clit, I wanted her to fuck me. I told her. And she made me ask for it a few different times.

She moaned in an affirmative response and I could again feel the head of the silicone cock along my slit. She barely pushed the head inside and teased me, moving it in slow circles. I wanted more and said so, but she continued to tease me at her own pace and leisure. As the head popped inside me, I could feel her thumb rubbing around my hard clit, teasing it erect. In a motion fluid and strong, she brought my legs up and rested them against her shoulders. The cock began to fill me slowly and I moaned as she gave me more. Holding my legs, she began to thrust into me slowly. I could hear my pussy sucking on the cock, my wetness increasing. I wanted her against me, her body on mine, breasts against mine as I felt her inside me. She'd talk dirty and playfully, but we'd kiss and fuck like lovers.

Tonight she kept her distance as she fucked me. When we did variations of this position in the past, she'd often lick her fingers as she teased my clit. Sometimes she'd let or make me taste as well. I licked my lips beneath my mask, remembering. I breathed harder, feeling her go deeper inside me. She said something I couldn't understand, then I felt her pull out of me. She guided me onto all fours and entered me from behind. She began to pump harder as she knew I liked this position. My clit was getting harder from her thrusts and my moans were encouraging her. I felt her hands cup my breasts as she continued pumping into me. I missed the feel of her lips and tongue on my back, her teeth grazing my skin when she fucked me from behind. But I only felt a brush of the cloth of her mask on my skin, as she must have remembered this, too.

As I was the designated bottom, I'd often beg to suck the cock after she'd been inside me for a while. I craved that taste, and she enjoyed the sight of me going down on her when she was strapped. Once I sucked her off when I was kneeling and she was standing. My lips and tongue were especially noisy, which she enjoyed. I gave her more of what she wanted, and pressed the harness against her in what I thought would be the right spot. As I continued bobbing my head and sucking, pressing on the harness, I swear I saw her breathing quicken and her knees buckle for a moment. But she regained her composure and turned the tables quickly, putting me in my proper place. That didn't happen again, as she didn't allow it.

She had me at the edge of the bed now, and was standing as she fucked me from behind. My thighs were sore from the afternoon ride, but my pussy was still hungry for more. Her hands held me tightly as she pushed into me. She slowed her thrusts, going deep and slow for a time. At one point she pressed her hips against my ass and grinded into me. Her skin on mine was warm and soft.

I could feel her slip out of me, my pussy still eager for more and my clit about to explode. In this state, she'd often lie down and pull me onto her face, licking me mercilessly until I came for her. Tonight it would be different. She did lie back on the bed. How I longed for her to take off her mask so I could feel her lips and tongue on me. But she held the cock, guiding me onto it again, her thumb pulling back my hood to expose my hard clit. I settled onto it slowly, my hips gently rocking back and forth, my breasts gently moving as I started to ride her. Her hands were on my hips and I could feel her begin to push up into me, but gently. We couldn't see each other's eyes in the dark, but our bodies were somehow attuned. I started to ride a bit harder, my breasts bouncing in a steady rhythm, which I know she liked. She had worked my clit up to near throbbing and my breath quickened. I wanted to pull her close and kiss her, suck her tongue as my pussy sucked the cock strapped to her. I wanted to cum with her mouth on mine, our breasts touching, arms around one another. She pushed up into me from the bottom and rubbed my clit until my pussy exploded. Instead of falling against her body, I moved to the side, our heads turned, masks on, each catching her breath.

I caressed her back and shoulders as she slowly pulled out of me, my pussy spent and my brain flooded with oxytocin. I lay on my side against a pillow, watching her shape in the dark. There would be no snuggling, no spoon (I was always the little spoon without exception), no caresses or soft endings. I saw the silhouette stand and change form, appendages removed, layers of clothing added.

I heard the swift whisper of the crisply folded bills slipped from the nightstand into her hand and then her pocket. Footsteps, the opening of a door, and a soft close. I took off my mask and went to sleep.