I hang my coat and join the others with the only remaining seat
to her right. I freeze as our eyes meet - feeling a jolt of excitement surge
through my body. She turns her head and releases me from the gaze and I slide
into the open seat.
Drinks are ordered and the conversation swirls around work, the war, missing friends, and round and round. I am filling in a guy on my new job when her hand meets my thigh - my words stumble and I wipe my forehead with a napkin. He asks if I am okay and a stuttered yes pushs through my lips.
The questions continue on a recent project. My voice raises an octave as the hand slides north. I twist in my seat and shoot a quick glance in her direction, but she is turned away talking to my former manager. I sit quietly as the hand moves gently across my lap. The hand vanishes when the food arrives.
The salt drops from my hand to the potato on my plate as her foot slides along my calf. This time her eyes meet mine. I smile as she traces her lips with her tongue. Jokes abound as the salt shaker is fished from the meat of the potato.
The fork hugs the edge of the table as my elbow sends it over the edge. The legs are open as I disappear under the table. She pulls the cotton skirt to her thighs with her left hand and pulls the panties aside with her index finger. I feel myself move. I wonder if she had trimmed it, the familiar area is slightly different.
I feel the blood in my head as I return to the party. The fork is firmly in hand for all to see - unnecessary proof of where I had been since nobody noticed. I want to return under the table - under that skirt, but the conversation comes my way as I reach down and adjust my suddenly growing self.
The food and people slowly disappear as time passes. Everyone is waved away until it is just her and me. It seems like the time to go, but her expression is less than convincing. She finishs her drink and looks into my eyes.
"You know what I want?" She sits motionless awaiting a response.
"What's that?" The possible answers make me anxious. I pray she doesn't say dessert.
"You to fuck me." She watches as the words register with me.
"Oh, well, yeah, okay." If I had to fill out an evaluation of her answer, I would check "exceeds expectations." I slowly stand awaiting her next move.
"I assume you agree?" She stares at my crotch with a devious smile. My face is hot again with embarrassment as I adjust my excitement.
"I'm hoping you have your van?" She slings the purse on her shoulder and starts toward the door.
"Yes." My mind returns to a previous night in the back of my work van. The image of her naked body around my tools is stored in my permanent mental collection.
As the door closes behind us, she grabs my arm and pulls my body close to hers. I breath deeply to inhale the familiar scent as my hands travel over the curves of her small frame.
"We don't have much time, so let's do this." She pushs the skirt down while smiling at me. I am suddenly unable to move as the sentence hangs in the air; it was the same thing the hooker had said so many years ago.
Drinks are ordered and the conversation swirls around work, the war, missing friends, and round and round. I am filling in a guy on my new job when her hand meets my thigh - my words stumble and I wipe my forehead with a napkin. He asks if I am okay and a stuttered yes pushs through my lips.
The questions continue on a recent project. My voice raises an octave as the hand slides north. I twist in my seat and shoot a quick glance in her direction, but she is turned away talking to my former manager. I sit quietly as the hand moves gently across my lap. The hand vanishes when the food arrives.
The salt drops from my hand to the potato on my plate as her foot slides along my calf. This time her eyes meet mine. I smile as she traces her lips with her tongue. Jokes abound as the salt shaker is fished from the meat of the potato.
The fork hugs the edge of the table as my elbow sends it over the edge. The legs are open as I disappear under the table. She pulls the cotton skirt to her thighs with her left hand and pulls the panties aside with her index finger. I feel myself move. I wonder if she had trimmed it, the familiar area is slightly different.
I feel the blood in my head as I return to the party. The fork is firmly in hand for all to see - unnecessary proof of where I had been since nobody noticed. I want to return under the table - under that skirt, but the conversation comes my way as I reach down and adjust my suddenly growing self.
The food and people slowly disappear as time passes. Everyone is waved away until it is just her and me. It seems like the time to go, but her expression is less than convincing. She finishs her drink and looks into my eyes.
"You know what I want?" She sits motionless awaiting a response.
"What's that?" The possible answers make me anxious. I pray she doesn't say dessert.
"You to fuck me." She watches as the words register with me.
"Oh, well, yeah, okay." If I had to fill out an evaluation of her answer, I would check "exceeds expectations." I slowly stand awaiting her next move.
"I assume you agree?" She stares at my crotch with a devious smile. My face is hot again with embarrassment as I adjust my excitement.
"I'm hoping you have your van?" She slings the purse on her shoulder and starts toward the door.
"Yes." My mind returns to a previous night in the back of my work van. The image of her naked body around my tools is stored in my permanent mental collection.
As the door closes behind us, she grabs my arm and pulls my body close to hers. I breath deeply to inhale the familiar scent as my hands travel over the curves of her small frame.
"We don't have much time, so let's do this." She pushs the skirt down while smiling at me. I am suddenly unable to move as the sentence hangs in the air; it was the same thing the hooker had said so many years ago.
No comments:
Post a Comment