She didn't like it. We were going to be in different towns that night. Actually, we lived in different towns – two established professionals with our own gigs and beats – but the towns weren't very far apart and over the two years we'd managed to spend one or two nights together per week, in one town or the other. Sometimes, of course, we spent longer periods together, in one town or other or on vacation elsewhere. Anyway, it was working. We were rubbing along fine and enjoying the journey, so to speak. But tonight was one of those when we had planned to be together, in my town, but couldn't. So we'd joked about doing phone sex. Something we'd done a few times but not in recent months. And I called her and put the phone on speaker, starting up a couple minute vid of internet porn.
She didn't like it. It had unsettled her. So after a few minutes of awkward conversation, something we never experienced, or at least rarely experienced, she'd said "you've thrown me off." So I'd said, "Okay, then why don't we try again later. You phone me when you're ready. I'll be here."
"Hi."
"Hi." I slipped the Bluetooth earpiece and activated it, suddenly channeling the sound from the speaker into my right ear.
"I'm fresh out of the shower," she said, her voice quiet.
I perked up. Well, sat up against the headboard of my king-sized bed. "Still wet?"
"Uh-hmm."
"Dressed?"
"Sort of."
This was more her. The basically discreet but not really prudish her. As I said, we were both professionals, and neither of us was a kid. This was the her that had accepted in good spirit the blindfold and cuffs tucked under the pillow on Valentines Day, and we'd had a serious conversation – a conversation to the effect that this wasn't critical and that if she felt like exploring all she had to do was produce the cuffs and blindfold one day , but that if she never did that would be okay too. And it would, by the way. Truly. "So do you want to tell me what you are wearing?"
"Maybe." She hesitated, the teasing little coy girl sound coming into her voice. "But first I think you owe me an apology."
Ridiculous, of course, but women are women, so, "Well, I certainly didn't mean to..."
"No-no, not a spoken apology. You know I think actions speak louder than words."
"Fair enough. And what actions would you like me...?"
"What are you wearing?" she interrupted me, voice still quiet, emphasis on the word 'you'.
"One of my teeshirts." These are outsized teeshirts of assorted colours, etc. I don't often sleep completely nude but I loathe pajamas and absolutely can't have my balls covered at night.
"Why don't you take it off?"
"Sure." I started to peel it off, had to work it around the Bluetooth.
"Where are you by the way?" I told her, freeing the earpiece and tossing the teeshirt across the room. "Hmm, that new bluetooth is great. I could actually here the teeshirt hitting the carpet. Are you hard?"
"Getting there." And I was. Using my left leg to clear the duvet and expose my semi-erect cock, I said, "keep this up and it won't take long."
She chuckled, deep and rich in my ear. "I don't quite know what happened actually. I think for a moment I must've imagined it was real...anyway," she continued on, her voice deep and rich and sexy, "I'm going to get a glass of wine. Do you have any in?"
"Of course." Wine was something I always had.
She chuckled. I swung my legs out of the king-sized bed and started down the stairs to the main floor where the kitchen was. I could hear her moving around, carrying her cordless phone, opening cupboard doors...could visualize the scene exactly, actually. No doubt she could do the same, knowing exactly which doors I opened, both hands free because of the Bluetooth, probably guessing exactly which glass I would choose, and, no doubt, just as I could from her end, was listening as I opened the fridge and uncorked the bottle to pour the wine. (Thereby, of course, exposing my nude body to the chill air from the fridge. Chill air which seemed to wash over me completely, at least from chest to feet.)
"Don't close the fridge door, " she said simply. "In fact, push it wide open and stay right where you are. You can put the bottle back but that's all." She might have even heard the bottle return to the shelf because her timing was immaculate. "Cheers!"
"Cheers!" It was cold. Not the first time I'd been naked in my own kitchen. But different this time, a bit. And then there was the bite of chill air. It was settling around my cock and balls and, contrary to mythology, causing me to harden.
And again she might have been watching. "Are you hard?"
"Getting there," I admitted.
Then she slipped easily into her interrogation technique. All women can do this, ever noticed? Those quick, way too candid questions. "Are you sure you naked...?"
..."Yes..."
..."Completely naked...?"
..."Yes..."
...."Not even socks or anything...?"
..."No, completely naked..."
...."Must be getting chilled by now...?"
..."A bit, yes
"Ahh, poor baby...getting harder or not...?"
..."Harder, yes..."
..."How hard...?"
..."Quite hard..."
..."So you like the chill then...?"
..How do you answer that one?
..."Never mind, I don't really believe you..."
..."Why would I lie...?"
..."Because you're a guy. Guys always lie and everyone knows guys and cold don't add up to erections..."
...."Well then I must be weird because..."
..."Prove it,"she interrupted.
Bloody women. "How?"
"I don't know. Figure it out."
I suggested Skype. She hated Skype, repeated the fact the voices were always out of synch etc and added, "Besides how would you do Skype in front of the open fridge?"
..."I don't know, clear a shelf and..."
..."No, think of something else."
I actually checked my pockets for my mobile. Only of course I didn't have pockets and my mobile was upstairs because I had the Bluetooth. "I could take a pic with my blackberry..."
..."How would I know it was tonight...?"
I had sent pix before, that was true..."I'd be in front of the fridge and it would be time and date stamped..."
..."Okay...."
