First Kiss

The air felt different.  The dust danced in the air.  The world itself had tilted at a different angle.  Joan cried herself to sleep in her best friend's arms and  when she woke everything changed.  

They spent the day as they intended, painting side by side in Kristen's studio.  Joan wasn't looking at the juxtaposition of light and shadow.  She was looking at the full slope of her bottom lip.  The swell of her breast.  Her sultry gaze.  A hundred things she hadn't noticed before.  She shook her head.  It wasn't like anything had happened the night before.  There was no kiss.  There was no touch, no guilty confession.  All there was was vulnerability and connection.  It was enough.  Today the world was different.

Shadows deepened as their natural light be3gan to fade.  They were winding down.  Joan chuckled as Kristen scratched her cheek and spread yet another streak of acrylic across her face.  Kristen smiled at the rare laughter and rubbed her nose.  Joan looked at her own hands, finding them covered with more paint than her canvas.  She suddenly wondered what it would be like to see her handprint on Kristen's stomach.  A blush rose to her face.  Kristen put down her brush and walked across the wooden floor, nearing her nervous friend.

"It's OK," she said.  "It's different for me too."

With a self-assured fingertip, Kristen brushed Joan's golden hair from her face.  Each breathed the other's breath and the two felt everything change again. Align. One second.  Two seconds.  Three seconds stretched between their parted lips.

It wasn't a jolt of electricity.  It wasn't a shock.  Kristen's lips brushed over hers with the delicacy of a feather.  It was a flow, a rush, a warmth over her mouth.  It was clarity.  It was the answer to questions she'd never dared ask aloud.

A hand brushed a smooth cheek.  Arms entangled.  A tongue flickered along the swell of a lip.  It sought out it's partner.  Paint smudged on pale skin and Joan wondered of handprints again, .  A smile tugged at the corners of Kristen's mouth.

"I feel it," she said.  "All of it."

And everything changed for the better.

-------------------------

Thank you, Advizor, for the encouragement this week. I truly needed it.  

Echo

I remember

when everything I bared to you

was precious:

          my want, 

          my pussy; 

          my soul

You were the salvation in my darkness,

the one who finally gave...

But now take is all you have

and I have nothing left to give

but a pair of red heels

and a broken string of

tomorrows.

----------------------------

I really loved this picture and wanted to write something sexy and hot.  I'm sorry to say that when I began writing, this is what I found instead.

Just Once

She waited in the hallway, her old battered raincoat skirting the tops of her knees.  She checked her watch.  If this didn't take long, she might be able to fit in a second "date" tonight.  She rapped on the door again.  It opened before the third knock.  Water dripped on his open collar.

"Sorry," he said with a grin. "I didn't expect you to be so prompt.  I was in the shower."

She brushed aside her irritation.  Just because she was a prostitute didn't make her rude.  She was still a good girl.  She raised an eyebrow, but swallowed any comment.  Frankly, she was surprised.  This wasn't the kid of guy that usually called for a date.  Tall.  Dark.  Incredibly handsome.  Bare feet peeked out beneath we'll-tailored slacks.  An open dress shirt gave her a glimpse at an excellent physique.  She found herself curious about why this guy was paying for it.  His smile broadened as though he read her mind.  She walked through the door into an immaculate apartment.

"What should I call you," he asked.

"Rebecca," she answered, immediately taken aback.  She never gave her real name.

"Rebecca."  He tried it out, as if he didn't doubt her at all.  The way he said it poured over her like honey.  Her body responded in a way she didn't think possible anymore.  "I'm Jim, Rebecca.  May I take your coat?"

He had specified what she was to wear.  There was no illusion, yet, she was unashamed.

"Yes, please.  Thank you, Jim."

He slipped it from her bare shoulders and watched it slide past her slender waist.  His eyes traced the curve of her full hips and caressed her lush, bare ass.  She stood in his entryway in nothing but her garters, stockings, and heels and he devoured every inch of her perfect alabaster skin.  She heard his bare feet pad over to hang her coat by the door.

"Follow me, Rebecca."

Her name poured over her again.  She rarely heard it anymore, except for a few close friends at the agency.  Certainly not from a man's lips.  He led her to the doorway of a bedroom, then stopped.

"Crawl.  I want to watch you crawl to the bed."

She tossed her hair indignantly over her shoulder.

"I won't crawl for anyone."

A single finger traced the sweep of her spine.  The full curve of her ass.  He popped her sharply, getting her attention with a quick rush of moisture between her thighs.

"You'll crawl for me and you'll like it."

Something about his voice made her want to obey.  She rationalized.  He was paying her.  It wasn't the strangest request she'd had.  She looked back over her shoulder at him and then sank to her knees.

He watched.  See didn't crawl so much as prowl.  He watched the sway of her perfect ass.  The glint of moisture on her bare pussy lips.  Her full breasts hanging between her sculpted arms.  She reached the bed and raised herself up, dragging her body over the edge.

"Did that please you... Jim?"

He heard it in his head.  The inflection.  The reverence.  The eagerness.

"Say what you wanted to say," he whispered.

She drew a shaky breath and spoke again.

"Did that please you...Sir?"

She heard a sharp exhalation behind her.

"Very much, Rebecca.  Very much."

She listened to him shed his clothes.  She stared forward, afraid to watch as his shirt dropped to the floor.  His slacks followed.

"Take off your watch, Rebecca.  You have nowhere else to be tonight, do you?"

The words "Nowhere but with you" left her lips before she could stop them.  He took her watch and laid it on the nightstand, returning to run his hand through her luscious curls.  She moaned and rested her head in his palm.  A fingertip beneath her chin turned her to face him, his hard cock brushing her lips.  She peered up beneath dark lashes, taking his tip on her tongue.  Now it was him that moaned.

"Good girl, Rebecca.  Good girl."

She smiled at his praise, remembering how much she liked this game.  The give.  The take. The surrender.  It has been so long.  and now this, with him...

He slid deep into her mouth and she moaned around him, trembling on her knees.  This isn't what she was used to anymore, but he gave her everything.  The love and devotion she'd forgotten.  The reverence and respect she'd sacrificed.  A perfect moment of need and fulfilled desire.

He pulled from her lips and bent her over the bed.  She heard a rustle and tear of a foil packet and wondered, if he was hers, what it would feel like to fuck him flesh to flesh. He slid into her with another whisper of her name and for one strange, perfect moment, she remembered the word home.

A Most Unusual Gift

At his command she shimmied out of her panties and handed them to him.  Her cheeks flushed as he crumpled them in a ball, held them to his lips, and inhaled.  His eyes closed like he was enjoying a rose.  To him, her perfume was better and she loved knowing that.  She settled in, flinching at the cold vinyl against her bare ass.  He flicked on the headlights, lighting her way.  When she promised him anything he wanted for their anniversary, she didn't expect this.

"Get out," he said. She heard the excitement in his voice.

She tried to suppress her smile, knowing he was trying to be all big and bad, but it wasn't working.  She knew him too well; it'd been too many years.  She stepped out of the car, hiking her skirt as she sauntered towards the wall, her hips swaying the way they did when he first saw her.  The old car.  The stockings.  It was like she was a teenager again.  She felt the familiar warmth in the pit of her belly as he set up his phone on the dash.  She felt the moisture gather between her thighs as she pulled her skirt higher and leaned towards the wall, unsure what was next until she heard the car door.  Excitement speared her.  She tried to sneak a peak as his dress shoes clicked across the pavement, echoing through the alley.  His hands found her hips and he grabbed hard, digging in his fingers.  Claiming her in a way he hadn't in a while.

"Mine," he growled into her ear.  "I've never seen a finer ass.  And it's mine."

He reached down and ran a hand over her stocking clad calf then traced her garter with his rough fingertips.  A tiny moan rushed from between her lips and he smiled.  He knew they couldn't have very long, someone would stumble upon them.  He thought of his phone, of the evidence they could enjoy later as he unbuckled his belt.  He was so hard for her still after twenty years.

"Hands on the wall.  Feet apart."

He popped her ass with a sharp smack, making her gasp.  He reached around, dragging his fingers over her slit, brushing her clit until she whimpered.  Without preamble, he sunk deep into her pussy.  The moan he'd heard a thousand times sounded new.  Alive.

"Oh, God, yes," she muttered.  He smiled as they found their rhythm, her squeezing him tight in the glow of the headlights.  His hand on the small of her back pushed her  over further.  the damp chill air licked around their sweaty bodies.  Her cries echoed off the walls, like each grunt that sounded off with every thrust.  He was new.  She was new.  It was everything.

She tossed her head back the way she did when she came and he bit her ear lobe the way that made her crazy as he gave her all he had.  Slumped across her back he whispered private promises of more to come.

He was her gentleman again, lowering her skirt and escorting her to the car, thanking her with a searing kiss that curled her toes and made her want him all over again.  She climbed in and he placed a blanket over her legs, remembering now she wasn't just his lover but his best friend, the mother of his children.  She smiled at her gentle man, remembering the same.

"Happy Anniversary, baby." she whispered.

He said the same as their old car roared to life and they went back to their lives, video safely tucked away, her panties in his pocket.

They Always Come Back

I stumbled out of the sun onto the weather beaten porch.  There's no way this place should be standing after so long.  The parking lot was riddled with tumbleweeds instead of stacked with sedans.  The "Free Lunch Buffet" sign had faded from red to pink and hung by one chain from the eaves.  She'd been gone for years, of that I was sure.  And if she wasn't gone that picture sure wouldn't be the same.  I shook my head with a sad laugh and shoved open the door.  I had to see.

Haphazard Christmas lights were strung along  piles of nostalgic junk.  A silent jukebox winked at me from the back wall.  Vinyl chairs with torn seats gathered around stained tables.  At the back stood a bar with a woman behind it.  A smile warmed her pleasant face.

"Drink?"

I ran my hand over my face, trying to ditch the road-weariness.  I'd been on the road for hours before I saw the battered tin sign.  It was the same sign I saw fifteen years ago, the first time I saw the beautiful girl she was, not the exquisite woman behind the bar that she'd become.

"You were a Heineken guy if I recall."

"There's no way you could remember me."

"A girl always remembers her first."

He gripped the cold bottle in his hand and went back in his mind.  His buddies had kidnapped him for an impromptu bachelor party and brought him here.  The club was hopping back then.  Girls danced on a stage that seemed rickety even then.  The serving girls wore high heels and cowboy hats, not a stitch else.  He laughed and said he'd have a few beers and be out the door.  But then he saw her by the jukebox.  Dark curls framed her angelic face.  Her lush mouth begged for his cock.  Her body was perfection.  He had to have her.  He did, in the back of the bar on a beat up old sofa she gave him everything.  He'd never forgotten her.  Through countless rounds of self pleasure in the shower and the flaming destruction of his marriage, this girl never left his mind.  And she was here.

"I own the place now.  Not that it's much of a place.  Some of the girls still dance on Fridays.  I leave my clothes on these days."

"Sad shame," I said with a smirk.

She smiles and sets me up with another beer as I drain the first.

I remembered the first night.  The way she felt beneath me.  Her sweet taste.  The sound of her voice.  The music thumping in the bar as I pounded into her in the back room.  The reality that never lived up to her.

I shook my head and did what I came to do.  I took off my ring and left it on the bar, there in the place I'd lost so much else.  I never had a chance.  I wanted a repeat, a second shot, but her faraway look told me I'd never get it.  I tipped my bottle in her direction and threw a handful of bills on the bar.  it was the ring she grabbed.  I watched her pull a glass jar from the bar and toss it. It disappeared among so many others.  How many, I wondered.  How many like me had she ruined?

I stumbled back out into the sun, somehow finding peace.  At least she'd remembered me for a moment.  At least I hadn't faded in asking the masses.  I may have been her first. I sure as Hell wasn't her last.

Not like she was for me.

----

A day late and way too long.  Forgive me this one, it's a bit tablet.  More of a concept than a story.

Trading Places

She waited for me.  Well, almost.  Her black panties dangled from one delicate foot. Her strap slid off one perfectly curved shoulder.  This is what I'd prayed for when I'd given her the room key, but I never thought she'd come.

She was the aggressor.  She didn't do soft and delicate.  But this one time, because I'd asked her to, because of what was at stake.

She remained quiet as I took off my watch and lay it on the cheap, hotel table, then unbuttoned my cuffs and my shirt.  Finally divesting myself of my slacks, shoes and socks until I stood before her in my boy briefs and simple cotton bra.  She tensed as I knelt at her feet, my hands resting on her taut thighs.  I nudged them open, my eyes focussed on the fine wisps of downy soft hair that covered her mound.  She fought against me for a moment, but I raised an eyebrow.  It was my turn. And she was exquisite.  I nudged her thighs apart and pressed my lips to her sweet flesh. Her fragrance assaulted me like it did every time.  Nothing made me want her more.  I swallowed hard.  This time I would taste her.  I would give her what she gives me.

I could feel her uncertainty.  Her vulnerability.  I glanced to the costume of her clothes that I had worn and understood.  Her watch.  Her slacks.  And now she lay bare to me the way I have a hundred times to her... but to me it comes easy.  She was the aggressor.  She didn't do vulnerable.

I traced my tongue along the seam of her pussy, gathering droplets of her nectar like honey.  She squirmed beneath my kiss.  Gasped.  Moaned.  I splayed my fingers across her soft white belly and held her down, deepening my kiss.

"Stop," she says.  "I can't do this.  I can't take it."

"Hush," I whisper.  "Be me. Just once, let me make you feel good."

A whimper. A twist.  Her head rocked back as I explored.  Tasted.  My hands rose to her full breasts and she thrust them against me.  Once.  Just this one time.  A tear slipped down my cheek as a flood of moisture hit my lips.  She said my name as she came.

She came for me.  She actually came.

"Stop," she said, curling on her side. 

Tears flowed freely down her face.  In ten years I'd never seen her cry.  Ten years and I'd never tasted her.  Seen pleasure twist her face..  Seen so much pain.

"I'm not you.  I'm me."

I took a deep breath, her taste still on my tongue.  The first time in ten years and it had to be the last.  If I loved her, I had to love her for who she was and nothing more.  Quietly I slid the boy shorts from my hips and handed them to my wife.  My lover.  My all.  I laid down beside her and told her the only thing she needed to hear.

I'd never ask again.

In Case of Emergency

She was in the tub, as expected.  What I didn't expect was being rendered breathless.  Incapable of taking action. This should have been easy.  I slip in while she is relaxing in the tub.  I quickly slip the cloth over her mouth and control her brief struggles.  I gently push her under the water and watch for air bubbles.  Pay day.  Yet this... her dark hair spilling over the rolled rim of the claw foot tub. Her small, high breasts peeking through the white bubbly foam.  I didn't expect that it was her.

"It's only fitting," she said.

:"I swear. I didn't realize it was you."

She smiled a sad, wise smile and I was uncertain that she believed me.  I was uncertain that I believed myself.  I pulled my gun out of the inside pocket of my jacket and laid it on the back of the toilet tank.  Her eyes opened wide.  It wasn't my usual style.

"Emergancies only," I explained.

I didn't want to ask my question.  I didn't want her answer.  Yet, I couldn't help it.  I moved to sit on the edge of the tub, removed one glove, and reached beneath the water to trace a single fingertip down her arm.  Her entire body tensed.  I can't say that I blamed her.  Mine did too.

"What... what did you do?"

She closed her eyes and whispered, "I slept with another man."

The pang in my chest was that it wasn't me.  Not anymore.  I waited, knowing that there was more.  They'd both cheated.  I half expected that the boss knew about she and I.  Maybe he did.  Maybe this job was his justice.

"His brother," she continued.  "I fucked Johnny.  That was the end.  I've been waiting for you ever since."

My cuff dipped into the water as I traced her breast.  I tugged on her nipple the way that always used to make her whimper.  Her eyes closed and her breath escaped in a rush.

"You're here to kill me," she says.

My mouth opens, but the words hang on my tongue.  I can"t lie to her.  I never could; that was the problem.

"Get out of the tub."

"If you don't kill me, he'll kill you."

I know this deep into my bones.

"Get out of the tub.  Please.  Let me touch you.  Let me kiss you.   Please... one more time."

She does.  Her small, wet body was in my arms.  Her tongue slid along mine, sparring and dancing.  I palmed her small breasts and took her nipples in my mouth.  I did everything that she loved.  And for that moment, I loved her the way I used to.  I loved her until she moaned around my cock.  Until she whispered my name as she came.  Then I loved her again.

I collected myself, tugging my glove on, knowing I'd still smell her on my fingertips when I took it off again.  I picked up my gun.  She didn't flinch this time.

We walked to the hallway, where she lifted on her tiptoes and kissed me again.  She saw it.  I gave myself away.  I single tear fell down my cheek.  She wiped it away.

"I'm glad that it was you," she said.

"Me too."

I stepped back, leveled the gun, and pulled the trigger.  There was no moment of shocked outrage on her face.  No false hope.  Only a tear to match my own.

I stepped over her body and out of their lives, tucking away my gun and locking the door behind me.  I shook my head.

"Emergencies only."