Rendezvous 8

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his trousers, customarily bored. He seemed pitifully lost as he searched the room for her. She smiled to herself as she eyed him; the warmth of her affection rose as she noted his awkward appearance: his hair was slightly tousled; bright red wisps obscured one eye. His collar fell open. Earlier that evening she had managed-after a fair amount of convincing, bribing, and bargaining-to get him into a black suit and a crisp white dress shirt as long as he could forego the tie. This was the compromise. He complained that the shoes were too tight. The suit wasn't really "him." Despite these protests he looked beautiful; so elegantly disheveled. He'd matured so much in the few weeks she'd known him: no longer did he seem the timid, shy little fawn he was the night she first met him.

Generally he had remained the gentle, guileless boy she had instantly adored; however, there had surfaced in the last weeks a darker side to his personality of which only she was aware. In their private moments, she discovered his fondness for simply lying next to her, cradling her in his arms. This became an early morning routine he initiated in which he waked her with deep, drowsy kisses that became languid explorations of one another. However, he had become slightly more aggressive recently; on occasion he surprised her with new tactics. She began to think that in the process of this systematic cultivation of her young lover, she'd created a monster.

The sound of voices broke her reverie. They grew louder as a small crowd of people gathered about him. Clearly he was annoyed for a brief, furtive moment, then proceeded to shine each interlocutor with a hurried polite comment, nod, or forced smile. After a short while the little group dispersed. He locked his eyes on her. He merely smirked and mouthed the words, "come here." She smiled tentatively and eased her way toward him.

She reached a mark within fifteen feet of her target before she was blocked by yet another cluster of people. "Shit." She hissed through clenched teeth. He was swallowed up by the small crowd, and clearly out of her reach. Impatience, then aggravation seized her. In a puerile fit she disappeared into the powder room down the far hall and determined to seal herself in it-for the remainder of the evening if need be.

She hadn't closed the door behind her before the tears started to well and spill out over reddening cheeks. A lump formed and ached in her throat. Having been repeatedly cut off from her own lover was maddening. In their time alone he was fully accessible to her. Only to her. He was warm, tender, solely hers. But those moments were few and far between lately and she considered-this time with cold deliberation-just how much it was worth it. She remonstrated herself for crying, for ever showing the slightest trace of vulnerability. She forced them away with the heel of her hand, cursing herself. Her eyes stung. She glanced around the room for a tissue to dab her swelling eyes, but then she heard knuckles drumming against the door.

"Staying in there all night, are you?" He asked, leaning against the doorframe. She started to answer, but he abruptly cut her short; he moved forward into the room. "Suppose you'd like a bit of company?" He snapped the door behind him and locked it with a firm click.

"None of that now..." He said. The breathiness of his voice sent chills through her. She felt his lips, torturously warm and smooth against her face. She struggled to explain, sputtering in a pitiable effort to get out all the anger, but then his lips brushed against hers.

"I..." she began a second, futile protest.

"Shhhhh."

The kiss that followed made her instinctively drape her arms around his shoulders and receive him. She loved the way he kissed. His mouth, always sugarsweet and soft; the way he began ever so gently and built gradually to tender aggression. A shock of his ginger hair swept forward and tickled the bridge of her nose. She winced a moment, then smiled against his mouth. He laughed softly, his lips parted slowly. She felt his tongue and realized his intentions.

"Here?" She whispered.

"Mmmhmm." He nibbled her ear...the vibrations of his voice teased her skin and trickled down her spine as she felt his mouth full against the crook of her neck.

"Now...?"

"Mmmmhmm." Was his muffled response. His tongue pulsed against her throat.

His fingers crept around her waist and he began gathering the fabric of her dress in his fists. He guided her backward against the vanity, and lifted her onto the cold, unyielding surface of the bathroom vanity. It was a clumsy operation getting her onto such an unforgiving perch and out of her panties, but nonetheless it was successful. She felt his hand glide between her thighs, and then to her center. He stroked her, whispering a string of deliciously obscene propositions into her ear.

She weakened at this, but she hesitated to respond fully. He only heard her halted cry she buried against his chest...only felt her hips move to meet his caresses. A quiet skirmish between want and fear went on in her head: fear of being heard and found; fear of falling even deeper. This rebellion lasted but a moment; she became even more limp as his fingers slipped inside her and he gained a steady rhythm as he worked them back and forth.

"Like that?" He breathed into her ear. She clutched his shoulders for support. She nodded dreamily.

"Yeah," she responded in a protracted exhale. She licked and then bit her lower lip, now getting very comfortable with the depraved state of mind that consumed her. She then glided her tongue across his lower lip til it met his. He kissed her mouth, thrusting his tongue into her mouth in perfect syncopation with the movements of his hand. She met his next words with a tremulous groan and a hitch in her throat: "Then lean back."

He lowered himself to his knees and placed her leg on his shoulder. His fingers continued unabated in steady, minute thrusts. He trailed tiny, hot kisses up the inside of her bare thigh, alternating with a flick of his tongue. His other hand fixed her firmly in place by her hip. Instantly her eyes fluttered as she felt the tip of his tongue tease her with its quick and featherlike movements against her clitoris-a technique he had perfected with sufficient practice. A wave of numbness followed, then panic, then sheer ecstasy as his tongue dipped further, fuller, deeper into her. He took his time, slowly tasting her, nudging her legs apart while his fingers pumped steadily. A sharp pang of exquisite pain seared through her when she felt his teeth grip that tender flesh. His gentle sucking made her quiver a moment until his hair brushed against the inside of her thigh. He glanced up at her routinely-a deliberate act that he knew brought her to convulsions. Careful not to disturb his momentum and desperate to work through the mounting tension in her body, she slowly extended the leg that supported her, as though to drive her heel directly into the floor. She bit her lip to stifle a shriek.

In a moment he stood up. The look in his eyes nearly gave her a start. They were greener, more intense and vivid than ever before. A wicked smile played at his pink mouth. She cupped his face in her hands, then glided her fingers through his hair, intent on messing it beyond repair. It was like spun silk...cool and soft and lush.

He bit his lip and glanced slyly at the door, all the while working at his zipper. She raised her legs higher to encircle his hips. The impulse to have his shirt open seized her and she and fumbled feverishly at the buttons. The shirt came open she moved her hands over the smooth flesh of his stomach, to the arc of his ribcage, then to the nubile flesh of chest...and then to her most cherished place on his body: the redblonde curls just beneath his abdomen. He grinned down at her from beneath a curtain of bangs. Slipping her hands round to his back, she felt its sleekness; the taut muscles. Her emotions rushed to the fore and she suddenly wanted to cry again. He was young, alive...warm and sweet and all hers again.

In an instant he was kissing her, forcing his tongue into her mouth just as he entered her. His deep low moan mingled a moment with the soft sighs he produced from her. He opened his mouth wide, and lapped at hers as they felt the length of his shaft sink him to the hilt.

"This is where I want to be." He whispered, the tension in his voice climbed steadily as he slowly withdrew only to drive himself in further, harder. He rocked his hips gently, but his breath became sharp gasps and his body began to tremble. He groaned with the tension; his fingers gripped her hips so tightly she felt sure a bruise would appear.

"Sorry..." His eyes fixed on hers. He pressed his lips tightly together, then leaned his head in to meet hers as though to gather strength. "It's okay, baby..." she whispered soothingly in his ear, and brushed the hair from his eyes. "...Just let go."

He rocked his hips faster...She drank in the visceral image before her...this lean male form with his shirt and jacket hastily thrown open to reveal pale skin like fresh creme...the muscles of his lean stomach tensing from the movements of his beautiful body...dark eyes peering down at her through a veil of red silk. Voices rose from beyond the door, but neither seemed to notice or to care. She bit her lip, writhed against him, and resolved to keep her eyes trained on the minute movements of his mouth, his eyes. With each of her exhalations there came a soft feminine sigh that visibly urged him on. She tensed her muscles around his shaft, provoking another deep groan from him. Her legs clutched him so tightly that a searing pain threatened. Muttering incoherent praises, she reached for him and glided her hands over his shoulders. The friction he made as he stroked her steadily sent spirals of pleasure from the same sensitive spot his mouth had agitated earlier. She came in waves, clutching the lapels of his jacket; her body jerking as small convulsions radiated through her and extended to the tips of her toes. Fully sated and slightly delirious, she dragged her tongue along the smooth fullness of his throat to the tip of his chin.

"God..." he panted.

She teased at his mouth with her own, barely touching his lips with her tongue. He whimpered softly in response and playfully flicked his tongue at her mouth. She breathed his name over and over, petting him like an adoring Venus. "Beautiful boy..."

With this he came in a single, violent rush, his face contorted and flushed a bright pink while she stroked his cheek and kissed him. After several minutes he caught his breath and smiled...met her mouth fully and at long last with lips cool from quick, manic breaths.

"What now, love?" He queried, smoothing his jacket and running his hand through his hair at his reflection.

"Get the hell out of the bathroom without being seen." She said flatly.

"Right."

She crept out of the room behind him, her fingers interlocked with his. Her eyes darted this way and that down what appeared to be an abandoned hallway. They had not gone but a few steps before he stopped suddenly and turned. He nodded at a man standing sentry outside the door. In a raised whisper the boy simply said, "Thanks."