A Chance Encounter

 

True, she had been on my mind, but actually meeting her in person had been a complete coincidence...

***

Let's rewind back to last Friday.  

Mel, my best friend since forever, had been sprawled across my bed, glued to her telephone screen as usual.  I'd been sitting cross-legged in the floor, my back resting against the bed with a book in my lap.  This seating arrangement has been the norm for us ever since our college days (and those were ten years behind us!).  To say we were creatures of habit, I suppose, would be an understatement.

Mel was butch, but she'd never quite been my type.  Where she was big-boned and rough around the edges, I craved a softer more sensual butch.  But that hadn't prevented her from following me across campus the first time our eyes ever met and attempting to beguile me into bed the whole first semester of Freshman year.  She'd given up by Christmas break, though, and her silly whirlwind advancements toward me had resulted in an amazing girl bond between us.  

We were forever friends, but we were also two of the few lesbians on campus in those days.   And, not surprisingly for our little cozy Appalachian mountain town, we also happened to be almost the only two LGBT women of all our hometown.  And...that really made prospects for dating difficult, which brings me back to the current situation.

Mel had been trolling social media for 'chicks' and I was perfectly sedate with my trashy romance novel (I mean, you got to experience the thrill of cheap love ever how you can, eh?) when suddenly she jumped up in her melodramatic way, exclaiming, "Oh man, look who I found, and she's single now!"

She thrust her telephone inches before my face, my eyes nearly crossing in an attempt to make out the headshot on the screen.  I held the telephone away and a face came into view.  I'd never seen the girl, but she was attractive in a homely sort of way.  Her congeniality was young, smile bright, but the wrinkles at the corners of her mouth and eyes gave away her age.  I guessed her at a mid-to-late thirties.  She sported a hoodie sweatshirt and long, wavy hair.  I could tell she was masculine, one of the 'pony-tail dykes' as people in our parts referred to them.

"I have no idea who this is,"  I shoved the phone back to Mel, feigning disinterest.  In part, at least.  I really didn't know the woman.  And she didn't know me.  And social media a very gray, desperate playing field for those of us a little too eager to find 'true love.'  I wasn't about to add a stranger to my Facebook and make a fool of myself.  On the other hand, I couldn't deny she'd been cute.  But, of course, it could have been a filter...so why fool myself into daydreaming about impossibilities?

"I knew her in high school,"  Mel lifted her eyes at me as if for emphasis.  "Her name is Sammie. She was married to some girl for a while, but must have gotten a divorce.  Her profile says 'single.'  She was never my type...but she's definitely yours."  

"Hmm, I don't think so,"  I said flippantly.  I'd gone back to reading my book, or at least pretending to.  "I don't level well with the online playing field.  I prefer to meet in person, or not at all.  All that other shit seems so forced and even...desperate."

"Gee, thanks," Mel tossed a pillow at me.  "You know like, almost every hook-up I've ever found came from a dating app!"

"Exactly," I narrowed my eyes at her.  "And that's just it, they were all hook-ups."  I shrugged my shoulders.  "I may just die alone for this, but I'm sorry Mel, I just want more."

That night, long after Mel left and I'd had my night-cap of cheap drug-store wine (courtesy of Mel as well), I laid in bed gazing at the arrangement of green plastic glow-in-the-dark stars I'd glued to the ceiling.  Some people probably would find it a silly thing for a thirty-nine year old to do, even immature.  I didn't care though, I preferred to nurse my inner child and the stars made the darkness a little more dreamy and exciting than just...well...an empty ceiling.  

I was nearing slumber when the memory of her face danced behind my eyes.  Sammie...

"Grrr," I moaned as I blindly fumbled for the cell phone I knew was somewhere on my nightstand.  

Finding it at last, I flipped open the Facebook app and quickly typed her name into the search bar.  I had no last name to go on, so I plugged our hometown into the location instead and hoped for the best.  I scrolled ten profiles down...Sammie Jones, Sammie Schmidt, Sammie Daughtery...and then there was the familiar headshot!  Her name read: Sammie Sullivan.

"Sammie Sullivan," It definitely had a ring to it.  I allowed the name to roll across my tongue as I clicked my way through her photos.  

Two hours later and I had discerned that Sammie was, indeed, single.  She had a teenager daughter, was newly divorced, her ex wife was in prison (wow factor there), she was utterly and hopelessly bitter, and she was a Leo (who is said to in no way be compatible with a Pisces).  Call me a new-aged hippie all you want, but horoscopes are prophecies, so the incompatibility in our stars solidified my doubts.

"Noway," I groaned as I tossed the phone back onto my nightstand.  

She may be attractive, but love required a lot more than that.  Love?  What was I thinking?  I didn't even know the girl...and worse, she had no idea I even existed!

"Oh my god, just go to sleep already," I chastised myself.

***

Fast forward a week and a day.  

Saturday, February 14th, to be exact.  Yep, the ever-dreaded Valentines day.  Being a single lady, and an introverted nerd, I always spent 'couples day' on the couch with my two cats, a carton of ice cream and take-out food from whatever joint wasn't bulging at the seams with cute little well-dressed puppy-dog lovers.

My day had been planned, my pajamas pulled on, the TV remote control and wine rearranged on my side table when the phone rang. 

"Hey Jane,"  it was Mel, and she sounded out of breath.  "I'm kinda in a bind, think you can help me?"

"Uh," I hesitated.  It wasn't a question of if I could help, but whether if I wanted to.  Mel had a way of getting herself in a bind and then depending on me to come to the rescue.

"Please, look,"  she was panting now.  "Thanks to this great, uh, holiday, the restaurant is running over and I'm a little behind on my tables."  Okay, that made sense, considering Mel was the assistant manager at Weiner World.

"Um, okay," I waited for the rest of her sob story.

"Uh, well," she hesitated.  "I got a date tonight-"

"Nooo," I wailed.  I seriously did not want to hear about her latest romantic liaison, doubly so since I was single on Valentine's Day...again.

"Naw, please listen Jane," I heard her suck in a breath and wondered if she was holding the phone with her shoulder while juggling an armload of dirty dishes. 

The mental image softened my resolve, "Spit it out, love.  What do you need?"

"Oh god, oh thanks...listen,"  she huffed some more.  "Like I said, I got a date with this girl, this hot girl.  Man she's hot...anyway, I need some flowers and candy, maybe a cute card.  Not a serious card, just a cute one...maybe with  a cat or something on it."

"Alright, alright, fine," I threw the fleece blanket off my lap and began to make my way for the clothes basket in the bathroom.  Where were my damn yoga pants?  I'd just had them on earlier.  

"Okay great, I will pick them up on my way home," Mel said. "Probably sometime after 8."

"Sure, okay," I looked at my watch, it was 6:30.  The quickest place for flowers and cards would probably be the local pharmacy.  They were over-priced on their merchandise, but it saved me a 15 minute drive to the closest shopping center, plus Mel would pay me back anyway so it really wasn't a loss to me.

Before I knew it, I'd maneuvered the six blocks to CVS whilst listening to some of the cheesiest love songs known to modern radio.  Gah, I was hating Valentine's Day more by the second!

The shelves were nearly bare, which was no surprise...most couples probably had already celebrated, or were in the process of doing so.  I absent-mindedly grabbed a bouquet of rainbow-colored daisies and a box of heart-shaped candy before making my way to the card aisle.  How in the hell was I supposed to pick out a card for someone elses' date?  I didn't even know the girl.

I was standing there, haphazardly reading cards and then discarding them.  Where were the silly ass cards with little fuzzy cats and puppy dogs?

"Gees, who even wants to receive something like this," I'd just read the sappiest verse of my entire life and threw the card back on the display.

"I totally understand what you mean."

I'd been so wrapped up in finding the right card for Mel that I failed to notice someone else had walked up beside me.  She, too, was fumbling amongst the cards and discarding them almost as quickly as she read them.

"Uh, yeah," I glanced at her form from the side of my eye, just another fellow shopper.  "These things are way cheesy.  It's been so long since I bought a Valentine card, much less read one."  Wasn't that the truth.

"Right," her voice was unique, she had a deep southern drawl.  "I'm trying to find something kid-friendly, my daughter is 13.  No romantic cards for me this year, not since separating from my wife."

"Oh,"  the 'wife' part definitely got my attention.  I stopped fumbling with the cards and actually looked up.  No way!  Could that...was that really her??  I took her form in:  medium height, slim...even lithe, long wavy hair, brown eyes, big smile.  "Um, yeah, totally," I realized I'd been staring.  What was I doing?

"Yeah," she tilted her head and looked at me head on.  Was that amusement I saw in her eyes?  She seemed to notice how flustered I was.  She also seemed to be enjoying it!

"Yep, I am Valentine shopping for my friend,"  I cleared my throat, aware that I probably sounded like a crazy person.  "She's working late, I'm actually single."  Why did I say that?  I was making myself look way too eager!

"That's too bad," she drawled, a sly smile breaking loose from the edges of her mouth.

"Yep," I made a desperate last attempt to save myself from mortification and grabbed a random card.  "Found one!"  I turned to go, desperate to escape her eyes.  This woman was making me more nervous by the second.

"Hold on," she'd grabbed me by the wrist.  She was bold.  I liked that.  "My name is Sammie," she reach her other hand out.

"Jane," I stammered as she pumped my hand up and down.

***

"I love eighties music," she said as she pressed a dial on the car radio.  "I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not," I lied.  If we were doing oldies, I preferred the seventies.  Really, though, I loved more of a sultry, feminine voice...perhaps Sarha McLachlan or Frou Frou.

I laid my head back against the seat as Journey began to play.  I watched the traffic get thinner and the streetlights disappear as we left the city behind.  What was I doing? Maybe I had finally lost my mind.  I mean, here was the probable truth:  1)  I'd just left my vehicle in a drugstore parking lot unattended for an unforeseeable amount of time 2) I'd just accepted the offer to accompany a woman I didn't know (okay a woman I barely knew) to her home for drinks and 3) Mel was going to kill me if I wasn't back home by 8 to give her the stupid gifts she asked me to buy.

***

After an age-long drive past winding country roads into what looked to be the middle of nowhere, Sammie finally whipped her gray SUV into a gravel-lined driveway.  A quaint cottage-like house stood silhouetted in the dim moonlight.  It stood yellow, with maroon shutters and was dwarfed by a tall, black-shingled roof. 

"Built it myself, with my own hands," Sammie offered as she jumped out, and I followed suit.  

"That's pretty impressive," I answered.  And I meant it.

We both stood on our respective sides of the car for a few moments.  Me, watching the moon slip between the black edges of tree-tops beyond the hills.  And she, watching me.  

"How about we get on inside," Sammie led the way.

I followed her past a small living room, through a tiny but comfy-looking kitchen and down a small hallway.  Illumination from a small electric nightlight nestled near the floor of the hallway was our only light.  She walked slowly, but with a purpose.  I stayed in close pursuit.  As we passed yet another corner, she reach back and took my hand.

"Almost there," she said softly over her shoulder.  I could make out the shadow of her lips, thick and sultry against dim light.  I licked my own in response.

At last she opened a door on the left, I stepped into another room lit only by the smoky haze of moonlight.  

"Just have a seat for a moment," she said as she moved beyond my field of vision.  

I could make out a queen sized bed, draped in a blanket of blue patchwork.  Nervous and wondering what the hell I was doing with this strange woman, in her strange room, I sat stiffly on the edge of the bed and waited for what was to come next.

I heard her in a room just beyond the bedroom, I guessed it was the master bath.  She seemed to be rummaging in the cabinet, I heard things being rearranged and moved around.  I momentarily regretted my decision, hoping she wasn't into crazy fetishes like spiked dildos or gag balls...neither of which particularly turned me on.

She appeared in the bathroom doorway a moment later, "Got us some candles."

'That sounds great," I said.  It actually did.  I had a penchant for candles and scented tarts.

I watched her carefully light a tray full of candles in various sizes.  She had long, slender fingers.  I liked that in a woman.

"That better?"  She turned to smile at me.  A lop-sided smile.  Was that a mischievous glint in her eye, or was I imagining things for the sake of my own building excitement?

"Wonderful," I said breathlessly.  I really needed to get a grip.  I sounded about as nervous as I was.  When was the last time I'd allowed myself the rendezvous of a one-night stand, or an intimate encounter with a complete stranger?  It must have been years...

"Its not often I get the place to myself," she smiled.  "My daughter is spending the weekend with her grandmother, gives me a little time to myself."

"I see," I stammered.  I had no kids.  What was my excuse for having no sex life? "No kids here."  I shrugged.

"Nothing wrong with that," she said, reaching to smooth the hair behind my ear.  "Do you mind?"

"No...."

Suddenly her breath was on my neck.  Hot, moist.  She flicked her tongue across my ear lobe, traced my collar bone in a trail with her tongue.  Then her mouth found mine.  She began to suck my mouth, to kiss my lips.  Her kiss was cool, the taste of spearmint gum.  Hungrily, she gently bit my tongue with her teeth and then let go.

I reach for her breasts.  Her nipples were hard.  I teased them with my finger-tips.  Her hands were in my hair.  Her tongue in my mouth.  I couldn't remember the last time I'd been more turned on by a woman.

She pushed me onto the bed, straddling me.  In a cloud of rushing arms and legs, suddenly we were both naked.  Her mouth was everywhere.  From the crevice in the side of my neck all the way down to the beginning of my pubic path.  She took one of my hardened nipples into her mouth for a suck, then quickly retreated to the other while I ran my fingernails up and down her back.

"Are you ready for me," she whispered huskily into my ear.

"Yes, oh yes," I nearly begged.  I was already dripping wet.

She licked two fingers and thrust them inside me.  My vagina writhed against her digits.  In and out, she worked me while sucking my nipples, returning to my mouth, then back to my belly button again. With two fingers still inside me, she dipped her face between my legs, flicked her tongue against my clit in tandem to her finger-thrusting.  She kept eye contact the entire time, a coy smile playing across her lips.  God, she had beautiful eyes.  Large, brown, a doe caught in headlights.

"Yes, fuck yes," I moaned as I gyrated my hips and moaned against her fingers.  I'd lost all my inhibitions.  And I didn't care to get them back.

When I finally came all over her hand, she tossed her head back in a girlish giggle.  Then she pulled her fingers from my cunt and stuffed them into my mouth.  Hungrily, I tasted myself.  Tasted the orgasm she'd just given me.  

"You're a dirty girl, you know that?"  She looked so serious.

"Oh yes," I said.  "Please allow me to show you just how dirty I am."

"I'm game," she shrugged her shoulders as if challenging me.

I grabbed her ponytail, pushed her face-first onto the bed.

"Oh, I like it rough," she gasped.

I let go of her hair, smacked each ass cheek hard.  She was slim enough but she had curves.  I liked that.  Curves turned me on.  Her ass bounced as I smacked it, one cheek after the other.   Once her cheeks were good and red, I pushed her face back into the pillow.  

I hadn't slept with anyone in over a year.  I was hungry, ravenous.  I knew I was being filthy and instead of being repulsed I was unashamed, ravenous. 

Slowly, I ran my wet tongue from her neck, down the crevice in her back.  I stopped when I reach her ass crack, took a moment to stuff two fingers into her vagina.  She was soaked, her juices dripped down my hand.  I could smell her, it made my clit throb.  

Slowly, I ran my tongue down her crack.  I stopped at her asshole for a minute, flicked my tongue across it.

"Oh my god, yes," she wiggled.  She leaned back, pushing my face between her cheeks.  "More."

As if on cue, I buried my tongue into her tight hole.  She was bitter, delicious.  I licked and sucked and slurped and made out with her rear end until my lips began to tingle.  All the while thrusting three fingers inside her cunt for good measure.  By the time I pulled away, my face was dripping wet, a mixture of my own drool and her juices.  She had cum several times, pushing against my hand.  I could smell all of her all over me.  Her pink hole was glistening, dripping.  So tight and waiting for some more of me.  It puckered.  I stuck my tongue inside one more time and felt my clit began to twitch.  

"It's my turn again," I said as I grabbed her pony-tail again and flipped her onto her back.  In an instant I was straddling her face.  "Suck my clit," I ordered her.

I rode her face, fucked her tongue, bucked so hard the headboard slammed against the wall and something fell in another room.  At last my cunt exploded in the strongest orgasm I'd had in years.

I collapsed beside her, both of us gasping for breath.  I was exhausted.  What time was it?  We had been fucking for what seemed like hours.  It was the middle of the night.  I was in some strange woman's bed. My legs felt like rubber.  How was I even going to even walk to her car, drive home once I reach my own car?  And what would happen between us after tonight?  So many questions and no answers.

I heard her giggle beside me.  "Happy Valentine's Day," she said.

"Oh yes, definitely," I answered.  

Mel was going to kill me.  It was okay, I'd die happy.

Something Old, Something New

 

The first night I ever laid eyes on her, I was exhausted.  A weekend seminar workshop for my new job had brought me nearly five hours from home.  I had driven the entire way in solitude, with the exception of my robotic GPA and a few radio stations that played scrambled rock oldies tunes.  The music was almost as foreign to me as the dreary landscape that spun past my window like an old sepia movie reel from the 1950's.  

The route took me from Columbus, Ohio to a sleepy West Virginia town.  For the last hour or so, I was sure I'd driven deep into the hills of some remote village, all but lost to civilization.  I was already dreading a boring two-day hotel seminar on the etiquette of call center employees, and as the wheels of my red Cooper span past clapboard houses, ramshackle trailers and dilapidated storefronts, I was erring on the side of gloom.  Tiredness was ebbing itself into a forlorn feeling of sadness...even loneliness, perhaps.

The dashboard clock flashed neon at 8:41 when, at last, lights in the distance signaled to me that I was nearing a small city.  Relief swept over me as I maneuvered my little Mini Cooper through an intersection.  I noted a series of restaurants on the right side of the two-lane highway and what looked to be a historic shopping center on the left side.  At least I was among some sort of civilization.  One lone billboard nestled in the hillside beyond the road indicated that a Best Western Inn was only half a mile north.

Ignoring the rumble in my stomach at the sight of McDonald's and Taco Bell, I drove until the huge hotel sign gave way to a small drive where the hotel sat.  Stiff from so many hours behind the wheel, I flipped off the irritating drone of the GPS.  I laid my head back against the seat and let out a long sigh.  Having survived the drive on coffee and a bag of potato chips, I was a little bit light-headed from hunger.  I was also still reeling from the explosive argument I had with Monica that morning.  Monica was my live-in girlfriend.  We'd been together for five long years.  Knowing how nervous it made me to travel to strange places alone, she had promised to make this trip with me.  As a matter of fact, she'd been the one to encourage me to take the silly job in the first place.

Monica had strung me along with the promise straight up until the last minute.  Just the previous night, she'd come home from her job as shift manager at Sam's Brewery (a silly little pub run by Sam Holton, the town's oldest eighty-one year old pervert) and woken me up at 2am to let me know that she could not accompnay me on this trip.  She profusely claimed that all her employees were call-in's and she had no choice but to cover a double shift on the following day.  This culminated in a two hour argument that nearly resulted in me asking her to pack her bags and leave.  I'd fallen alseep pissed off with my back turned to her last night.  When I woke that morning, she'd already left for her double shift.  After a series of 'I'm sorry' texts from her that morning (which I ignored), I'd left for the road without speaking to her.

And, sitting in that hotel parking lot, trying to ready myself for two days alone in this seminar-in-the middle-of-nowhere, I argued with myself about whether or not I should let her know I'd arrived safely.  I flipped my messages open; she hadn't sent one since 3pm that day.  'Guess you are already on your way' it read.  And I was, but I'd never bothered to stop by the bar to see her.  I hadn't answered her messages either.  I noted the time again.  She hadn't messaged me in almost six hours.  No phone calls either.  I mused that she couldn't be too worried about my well-being.  The idea pissed me off enough that I figured I'd wait it out.  If she wanted to talk to me, she'd call me.  

As if temporarily invigored by this decision, I hastily pulled my two pieces of luggage from the back of the car, locked the doors and headed for the hotel.  The front desk seemed abandoned so I shuffled in my purse for my ID and credit card while I waited for someone to appear.  After what seemed like forever, a heavyset woman with tired eyes apologized for my wait and informed me that the receptionist would be with me soon.  

I mentally chuckled, wandering how many people it took to run the front desk of a hotel that looked all but abandoned.  I wouldn't be surprised if I were the only guest that night.  I was still digging in my purse and mulling it over in my head when a soft voice said, 'How many nights?'

"Sorry, I'm half asleep," I said as I looked up.

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but the looks of her rendered me speechless for a few moments.  Blonde hair, short and messy just how I preferred (I could almost see myself running my fingers through it).  Her arms were covered in tattoos...all black and white, no color.  Many of them had quotes and words etched around and through them.  I longed to read them.  I wanted to know what messages this girl wanted written across her body.  She was petite like me, but slimmer.  And she adorned some sort of graphic tee with a logo that I couldn't quite decipher.  

"Hey there," that soft voice again.  She'd been waiting for an answer and I'd been standing there dumbly gazing at her.  I wondered for a moment if maybe I'd fallen asleep.  Maybe that was it, I was asleep on my feet.  I had to be, because this girl looked like something from my dreams.

"Uh," I stammered, embarrassed by my inability to stop oggling this girl.  "One bed, two nights."  She was smiling at me, probably totally noticing that I couldn't seem to peel my eyes away.  "I'm here for the dumb seminar," I added.

She laughed then.   A soft, silky laugh that emanated from somewhere deep inside.  A genuine laugh, not the fake, nervous type that I'm prone to. "I totally feel that," she said as she reach my credit card back to me.  "Anything work related always seems to suck."

She pushed some papers towards me and I quickly scribbled my signature on the dotted lines, not bothering to read the fine print.  It wasn't like I was going to party or trash the room on my solitary two-night stay.  Monica crossed my mind again and I grumbled  in my head that it was her I could thank for this boring, lonesome, two-day stay.

Dream girl led me down a darkened corridor on the first floor, gesturing toward the pool area and the gym.  "The gym opens from 9am till 11pm," she said. "But the pool is always open, just make sure you don't have an emergency, the only person on call is me."  She giggled then, a sweet, innocent tinkle.  "And I'm afraid I'm not much of a swimmer...but..if you need anything else call the front desk and ask for Andie."  

With that she sauntered back toward the front desk.  I stood there for a second, watching her.  She looked good from the back too.  She was thin but she had a little bit of curve where it mattered.  Even though I wasn't sure why it would matter to me anyway.  I shook my head as if to rid myself of the unsavory thoughts I was beginning to to have and made my way to the elevator.

My room was on the right side of the hallway, two doors down.  The place was extremely void of sound.  The only noise I heard came from an old air conditioner unit that sat in the window at the very end of the hall.  It buzzed like a swarm of honey bees.  The single light fixture in the center of the hallway ceiling intermittently flashed, as if at any moment it might go off and plunge me into complete darkness.  "Reminds me of a scene out of a scary move," I shivered to myself as slipped the card key into the door of my room and let myself in.

The room actually ended up having double beds.  I immediately unloaded my two suitcases on one bed in an attempt to find the granola bars I'd stuffed in there for my drive up.  I absentmindedly ate one while I flipped my messages back open.  Still nothing from Monica.  Oh well, she'd done me wrong, not the other way around.  I'd wait it out.  She'd be the one to break this time, not me.

I turned the TV on and eventually fell asleep with my clothes on.  The last word that rolled through my mind before I passed out was Andie.

***

I stood in the lady's restroom, the one right down the hall from the conference room.  One boring day full of classes, note-taking and job training was over with.  Appraising our hard work and our quick learning, the supervisor had let us out an hour early.  I glanced at the silver watch on my wrist.  It was 5pm.  I'd kept my phone on silent all day, so I was hoping perhaps Monica had called or at least left me a message, considering for all she knew I'd run off the road and lay somewhere over a hill dead.  Eager to hear something from her, I flipped through my messages.  Nothing.  I switched over to the call screen.  Not one missed call.  No voice mail.  

Tears stung my eyes as I looked at myself in the mirror.  I was a pretty girl.  Bright blue eyes adorned with natural black lashes and my reading glasses.  Thick brown hair with natural wave.  I was 5'2 and my daily jog had gifted me thick thighs and a shapely ass.  I was wearing tight, black dress pants and a cute low-cut pink sweater.  My open-toed heels gave me a few more inches.  I was satisfied with the woman that looked back at me.  She blinked away the tears.  Said, 'fuck Monica' under her breath. 

Starving, I made my way to the display of junk food I'd seen shelved in the lobby just the night before.  One entire wall contained a few coolers with a variety of drinks.  I grabbed a couple bottles of Bicardi and made the snap decision that I'd order pizza and have it delivered.  My guilty binge food was always beer and pizza, a habit that I'd began years ago as a college student.  

I turned around and headed toward the elevator but stopped mid-step when I saw her.  She stood behind the front desk again.  She must work the evening shift, that made sense.  And she must have sensed someone looking at her because she looked up from the computer screen she sat behind.  A smile spread across her face, slow and warm, like gravy.  I smiled back and waved at her.  She held a hand up as if to say 'hello,' then went back to her work.

I was still smiling like an idiot as I punched the second floor button inside the elevator.  My stomach growled.  I was thirsty.  I quickly popped the metal rim off a bottle of Strawberry Bicardi and turned it up. It was cold, sour, delicious.  I gulped greedily, feeling a few drops slip from my bottom lip and trail down my chin.  I wiped it away with the back of my hand, noting that I probably looked like one of those old perverted drunks that Monica had to wait on at the bar.

Monica.  I scowled at the thought of her.  No messages and no calls for over twenty-four hours now.  This behavior was unlike her.  I always thought myself clingy, but she was beyond clingy.  The abandonment of her mother as a young girl seemed to have left her with some sort of attachment disorder.  A whole day with no contact was totally out of character for her.  Maybe she was done with me? What if, back home, she'd already packed her stuff and left?  In a moment of weakness, I swiped my phone open and dialed her number.  One ring, then straight to voicemail.  I tried again, two rings this time, then straight to voicemail.  

I was almost certain she was watching me call.  I could almost see the smug satisfaction on her face as her screen lit up with my name and she swiped 'ignore.'  For all I knew she was busy flirting it up with some Saturday night whore at the bar.  Being the only butch at Sam's Brewery almost always meant that some random woman would vie for her attention, especially on weekends when the college crowd liked to gather around and let lose.  Okay then, two could play that game.  I turned my phone completely off and tossed it on the extra bed beside my luggage.

As if just remembering that I was thirsty, I chugged the rest of the bottle of wine I held in my hand. I figured I'd drink the other one with my pizza when it arrived.  There was a brochure on the nightstand, along with a TV remote and a few other scattered sales papers, including restaurant coupons.  I scanned the list of numbers for local eateries and found a Tom's Pizza.  Using the old-fashioned push-button phone and feeling a little like I was trapped in a 90's sitcom, I called in an order for one large pepperoni pizza and then absentmindedly flipped the TV on.

I fluffed up some pillows and laid back, flipping through the guide in hopes that maybe the hotel had some pay per view.  The wine had me feeling extremely relaxed, open-minded.  I was feeling risky.  I wandered what Andie would say if I called the front desk and asked her if she was hungry?  I giggled to myself.  I know something you can eat, Andie...

I was half awake, half asleep, and a little tipsy when a loud knock broke me from my reverie.  Maybe that's Andie.  But no, it was the pizza delivery boy, all scrawny and pimple-faced and too eager for the five dollar tip I gave to him.  I flipped open the cardboard lid.  My pizza looked delicious but there was way too much of it for just me.  There was also another full bottle of unopened wine sitting on the dresser beside the TV.  Oh what the hell...

***

"So, what type of job brings you out to the middle of nowhere for training?"

I still couldn't believe she was sitting in front of me.  I'd already downed another glass of wine but just having here sit at the table across from me was sobering.  I still couldn't believe she'd actually taken me up on my invitation to share the pizza.  Maybe it was just dumb luck and she was hungry.  When I'd called the front desk she said she was just getting ready to leave.  Or maybe she was interested in me?

Not that it was an impossibility...even if I was her type, I was a total stranger.

"It's a job in telecommunications," I said and rolled my eyes.  "I like talking and they are paying me to do it....so..."

She threw her head back and laughed.  That laugh again.  Thick and silky.  It made me want to touch her throat, run my fingertips across her pale skin and wrap my arms around her neck...

We'd been talking for a while now.  Andie was a twenty-six year old literature-major, a college drop-out who was still 'looking for herself.'  Aren't we all?  She said she lived alone and this job was how she currently paid her bills.  As for relationships, her girlfriend of two years recently left her for her best friend.  Ouch.  Andie said she was starting over.  Monica ran through my mind and I thought to myself, bitterly:  perhaps I'm about to start over too.

"What about you," it was the third time she'd asked me.  The first two times I'd managed to negate the question, to turn it around.

I downed my second glass of wine.  How much had I drank so far?  I was feeling loose-tongued and woozy.  Maybe I'd make up some lies.  But when I was drunk I always ended up telling the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

"I'm in a five year relationship that's on the rocks," I blurted out.  "Even if she calls me back, I'm not sure I even want to talk to her."

"Ohh," Andies' eyes were deep.  Deep ocean blue.  The kind of eyes you could almost sink into.  I wanted to sink inside her eyes.  I wanted to live inside her mind.  I wanted her to think of me. 

She touched a tiny mole beside her lip, an unconscious reflex.  Probably something she did when she was thinking deeply.  She was probably self conscious about this perceived flaw.  I wanted to kiss that mole.

"Look," I began.

"Oh, it's getting late," she murmured in that soft voice.  She stood up.  She almost looked frightened.  Great, I'd already scared her away.  She backed up a few steps.

"Look," I said.  I stood up, grabbed for her wrist.  She looked down at my hand on her wrist, and back up at me, as if surprised.  "I'm not single, but trust me, when I look at you I want to be.  I have two cats," I was stammering now.  "I hoard books and I love poetry.  I even write it sometimes."  I sighed in resignation and let go of her wrist, "And I'm 41, but you will swear I'm not..."

Andie had made her way to the door now.  I trailed behind her, feeling silly and desperate.  Almost to the door, she turned around to look at me.  For a long moment we stood there, held captive in each other's gaze.  

She did look so young.  Not childlike, but someone on the precipice of real adulthood.  A late bloomer, maybe.  Someone who'd just began to understand how difficult real life could be in all it's struggle and finery.  And I was much older, although I didn't look like it.  Thanks in part to great genes and in part to my abhorrence to sunlight and fake tanning, my skin looked every bit as youthful as hers.  

She turned around.  Her back was nearly to the door now.  She could rest the back of her head against if it she wished to.   And I was standing so close to her.  I could almost feel her breath mingling with mine.  And those eyes.  Those deep-ocean-water eyes were gazing at me.  

"No, your age isn't a problem," she blinked.  Long black lashes against milk creamy skin.  I bet she tasted sweet, like a vanilla malt.  I wanted her to melt inside my mouth, pressed against my tongue, teasing the back of my throat...

As if in suspended animation, I said nothing.  I was paralyzed by desire but fear held me still in it's grasp.  She seemed fragile.  One wrong move...

"If anything your age turns me on," it was almost a whisper, so soft that I questioned myself.  Did she really say that?

Slowly, she bent toward me.  Her lips grazed mine.  Gently.  Soft.  Barely there.  Her skin a soft butterfly flitter.  No tongue, no desperate pressing.  A simple little kiss.  

"I'm sorry," she whispered over her shoulder as she pulled the door open and slipped between it.

Lithe and weightless, she was there, and then she was gone.  I stood there for the longest moment, my hand pressed against my lips.  My fingers searching, attempting to hold onto that kiss.  I wanted to peel it from my lips, press it against my heartbeat, and carefully fold it between the clothes in my suitcase like a souvenir. 

***

I stood mid-center of my hotel room, attempting to assess the situation.  My grueling two-day seminar was finally over.  I'd managed to gain the approval of my supervisor and he'd given me the green light on my remote customer service job.  I needed only to return home, set my equipment up and begin earning $22 dollars an hour (a much larger salary that what the local library paid me, even after my previous five years of employment).  

The whole thing was cause for celebration but instead of excitement I felt a bitter unease.  I was going to miss my job as librarian assistant.  I loved my local readers.  Who would resume the weekly book discussions?  I wasn't sure the new job would allot me the free hours I needed to continue volunteering for the various local literacy programs.  I was still nervous about the new job...would I enjoy it?  Aside from that, I still had to deal with Monica.  She had called me twice today, when my phone was on silent, but had left no voicemails and no text messages either.  I sensed only the feeling of impending doom in the outcome of whatever conversation we would finally be forced to have.

Yet, none of those concerns made me feel more unsettled as what I did about my situation with Andie.  I had stopped by the front desk twice earlier but she hadn't been anywhere in sight.  The time on my phone read 4:30.  Check-out time loomed dangerously near.   The last thing I wanted to be doing was sitting in the lobby, looking desperate and silly, all my hopes hanging on the hinge of whether she'd show back up tonight or not.

And what would I do if she did?  Throw myself at her and profess my love?  Nonsense, we'd just met.  Seduce her?  No, I wanted more than a one-night-stand.  What did I want, then?  I didn't know, maybe there wasn't a name for it.  All I knew was that the moment I saw Andie,  I just felt something inside me shift.  I had to know her.  I was insanely attracted to her but it was more than that.  I held a genuine interest for her.

I was standing there, silently scolding myself for not asking Andie for her number the previous night.  I reasoned with myself that if I just had her number, we could text and maybe later take it to the next level and talk sometime.  But I didn't have her number.  I didn't even have her last name.  I only knew where she worked, and it was at a hotel five and half hours from my hometown.  

"Oh well," I mumbled aloud to myself.  "Maybe in another life." 

***

My shoulders sagged with defeat as I pulled my luggage into the back of my red Mini Cooper.  I'm sure  I probably looked like a woman headed toward her doom as I climbed behind the wheel with my heavy shoulders.  

I was not looking forward to the endless drive home.  Nor was I excited about confronting what I was sure would be an impending break-up.  Worst of all, I had no way of contacting Andie.  And to wait around desperately hoping I'd see her again (especially after she had already shown me her answer) was something I was not prepared to do.  

With a heavy sigh of resignation, I turned the key.  I had just positioned the radio dial, one hand on the wheel and another reaching for the gear, when I saw her in my peripheral vision.   In a blur of blonde hair and tattoos, she was at the passenger side window.  In a frenzy, I flipped the power locks and she was beside me.  Her hands caressing my face, her lips on mine.

"I'd just given up on you," I said quietly when she pulled away, my voice muffled by unshed tears.

"Don't ever do that,"  that sweet, shy smile of hers that melted me from the inside out. 

"So what now,"  I asked, still unsure where we stood.

"Just drive,"  she smiled slyly.  "I know a place."

***

"This is the perfect place," Andie said as she led me by the hand.

The isolated park was nestled within the heart of a forgotten urban neighborhood. In the soft light of a fading late-afternoon, Andie led us carefully down a once-maintained pathway, now barely visible beneath the encroaching vegetation

Leaves, having fallen from their branches long ago, now lay scattered across the ground, forming a carpet of crisp, brittle foliage. They made a perfect mattress when we laid across them.

"I couldn't let you go without seeing you first," she said as she slowly straddled me.

She grasped both my wrists and pinned my arms against the cool ground above my head. Her kiss, when it came, was a teasing thing. She flicked her tongue between my teeth, back and forth, too quick for me to grasp it.

She kissed my lips, trailed a path down the side of my neck. Coming to my breasts, she let go of my wrists and pulled my shirt over my head. One-handed, she reach back and unclasped my bra, the other hand already massaging the nipple of my left breast. Her hot breath was an amazing contrast to the cool air. I couldn't suppress a moan.

She flicked her tongue against my nipples until they were both rock solid, then trailed a path with her tongue all the way down to my pelvic area. Before I knew it, my pants were off. She was tugging my black thong with her teeth, pulling it slowly down my legs. When, at last, she dipped her tongue in my cunt, I was dripping wet. Just like my mouth, she teased my pussy lips too, flicking her tongue in and out.

"You taste so good," she paused to say, gazing above my tiny tuft of pubic hair to make eye contact.

She fucked me with her tongue for a long time, one hand massaging each breast while she gave her full mouth to my wet hole. All the while I moaned for her to move her mouth over my clit. At last, when I thought I could take no more, she made a trail of my wetness from my hole all the way up to the hood of my clit. Back and forth, she licked a path. I could feel my clit swelling. She had to feel it pulsating against her tongue.

"What do you want me to do," she raised her head and smiled at me.

"Fuck me," I yelled, thrusting my hips toward her.

"Fuck you how," she asked.

"Fuck my clit with your tongue, hard," I whimpered. "Please."

She dove back into my cunt with renewed fever, licking up and down. Then, stopping to flick her tongue across the most sensitive edge of my clitoris. Then she'd stop for a few seconds and look at me again.

"Please fuck me, let me cum," I begged her, thrusting my hips in the air, wiggling.

I wanted to be her whore, I wanted my clit touched. I didn't care to beg.

Again, she dove into my cunt with her wet mouth. I could see my juices making little glistening strings every time she pulled away. When I thought I couldn't take anymore, she pulled away again and looked at me, a wild glint in her eye.

"So you wanna, come, do you," she asked me with a wicked smile. Her face was covered in my wetness. My pussy quivered.

"Yes, please," I yelled, bucking my hips, my legs wide open.

"Okay," she grabbed my legs and pushed them even farther apart.

I watched as she rubbed my juices up and down my whole pussy for a few minutes, then she pulled her hand back and smacked my cunt hard. Once. Twice. Three times and my body convulsed in the strongest orgasm I had ever felt in my entire life.

I had never been pussy spanked, especially on the verge of an orgasm. Once I started to cum, she drew her hand back and smacked my clit three more times.

"You like that, slut," she yelled.

I writhed beneath her, my clit pulsating and pumping. I felt tingles shoot from my pussy lips all the way to my toes.

I bucked, tried to twist away, moaned and pleaded. All the while she had stripped down bare naked and mounted me again. Suddenly she was riding me, her clit pressed against mine, her wetness mixed with mine.

She rode me hard as orgasm after orgasm shot through my groin. Minutes passed but it felt like hours, I was suspended in one long orgasm. I grabbed her bony hips with my hands and held on while she rode me. Up and down, side ways, in circles, her breasts in my mouth, my breasts in her mouth.

I sucked her tongue, begged her for more.  Called her my dirty little whore.

Finally, with our eyes locked in a deep gaze, communicating our orgasms in syllables undecipherable in any language, she came for me.  

The setting sun cast a warm glow upon our bodies, rendering us shiny and opaque, as she climbed off me. I was spent, I could take no more.

She laid beside me and we held each other for a long moment, the gentle rustling of leaves in the breeze providing a soothing serenade to our unspoken connection.

I was thinking of what would come next.  What our plan of action would be, when I felt her trail her soft fingertips across my pussy again.  She kissed my forehead, my lips, smiled at me and then drew her hand back and smacked my pussy hard.  

At once my cunt, a traitor, convulsed into another long orgasm.  My clit stung from the slap, my lips puckered to be penetrated.  I could feel cum sliding between my pussy lips, puddling against my ass on the ground.  Legs wide open, pussy quivering, I had no shame as she smacked my wet clit one more time and I began to cry.

She kissed my closed eyelids, "Did it hurt?"

"No," I smiled.  "No, it was so good.  So good..."

"So what's our plan of action?"  She had began to get dressed, fumbling along the scattered leaves to find my wayward thongs.

The sun was setting now, and night would soon fall.  I still had a long drive ahead of me but I knew now I wasn't going alone.

"You need to pack a bag," I said to her, grasping both her hands with my own.  "I'm taking you home."

Our quiet smiles and soft, giddy laughter echoed through the quiet park as we made our way to my little red car, a testament to the happiness we knew we'd found.

Opposites Attract

 I walked quickly, taking note of the sky.  Early evening had come on without warning.  Clouds scattered and covered the sun.  Soon an early dusk would turn the long parking lot into a deep gray.  

Gray is a good color for secrets, I thought to myself as I shuffled across the gravel-littered asphalt.  The large parking lot served as a gateway between the good part of town and the slums.  I don't know whose idea it was to nestle an electric company and a host of businesses so close to a run-down trailer park, but there it was.  

I was lucky enough to come from the right side of the asphalt, a little cul-de-sac of newer two-story houses, complete with shiny silver appliances and all the common-day comforts a housewife could ask for.  All except a husband who stayed home, because mine certainly didn't.  What with all the business meetings and out-of-towners, I was virtually single for the better part of the week.

Sure, I had everything I wanted.  Material-wise, that is.  Everything but the comfort of someone's arms around me on a cold night, someone to go downstairs at 3 in the morning and check what that random noise was, someone to help me suppress (or express) those carnal needs that befall a lady once the night falls and she finds herself alone.

I guess that is part of why I'd taken to walking.  I'm a girl who loves the evening.  I've never been a sun-bather and I don't enjoy boiling in the Southern summer heat so my walks are done in the evening.  My neighborhood sits atop a hill, I can literally see half the city from my back patio. So, every night at 7pm I begin a trek down the slope of newly-laid blacktop.  The road leads straight to a huge parking lot where all the old neighborhood businesses sit.  The farther back the buildings go, the more ramshackle they grow to be.  Until, finally, once you pass the last building, you find a dirty path that leads straight into the outlying depths of an old trailer park.

That's how I'd first met her.  Days earlier, curiosity had gotten the best of me.  I'd walked far beyond the business area and several yards across the dirt path until I realized I was actually standing in someone's back yard.  Her back was to me and she was pinning clothes to one of those old fashioned back-yard clothes lines.  At first I thought she was a man as I watched her lift and then shake the wrinkles from each article of clothing before meticulously pinning it to the line.  

An old trailer sat only a feet beyond where she stood.  I'd immediately noticed some shingles on the roof were missing and one of the windows had been sloppily boarded with a piece of plywood where obviously the window had been lost.  The back porch had been old, it seemed to be sagging beneath the weight of it's years.  This seems like such a sad place to live, I'd said to myself, noticing that the surrounding trailers all were in much the same condition,.  Some were worse than others.

My eyes had roamed back to the figure, watched as it bent over, straightened up, and again.  Maybe it was the lack in my sex life, but I couldn't take my eyes off the ripped shoulders beneath the white wife-beater.  How the muscles rippled with each bend.  The firm backside, the short, spiked blonde hair.  I found myself wondering how the skin of his neck would taste.  

You can imagine the shock when suddenly, in one swift movement, this slim man had removed his wife beater to reveal a sports bra full with firm, perky breasts.  I think my jaw may have even dropped open.  So he was actually a she!  I'd watched, mesmerized, as she balled the shirt up, used it to wipe the sweat off her brow.  It was then I noticed I was starting to sweat too.  

This was the first time I'd ever found myself attracted to another female and as much as I had been enjoying the voyeuristic scene, my first reaction was to bolt and run.

I was just turning on my heel to go when the lithe, sexy woman threw over her shoulder in a husky female voice, "You going to just stand there watching, or care to introduce yourself?"

Her bold question had resulted in a five minute conversation.  Mostly with me stammering a hurried explanation about my new neighborhood and how obviously I'd lost my sense of distance and walked too far.  Straight into her backyard!  She'd introduced herself as Ellie, short for Elizabeth.

"I'm Shayla," I'd stammered.  I no longer knew what I was doing.   I'd been aware only of the fact that the longer she talked, the sexier she became.  I'd scoured my surroundings, looking for a good excuse for a quick exit.  It was almost dark.  That would have to do.  "Oh, it's getting dark I really need to be getting back," I exclaimed.

"You sure you don't want to come in for a drink," she'd said, nodding her head in the direction of the run-down trailer.  "I live alone here since my maw died.  It's lonely but comfy enough."

As much as I would have loved to stick around and stare at this woman some more, I'd declined with a promise that maybe one day in the near future I'd return.

"Well," she'd smiled sheepishly and winked at me.  "Dryer is broke, you can find me out here about every night around seven, hanging clothes."  She'd chuckled, as if what she said were some kind of joke.

She'd winked at me, smiled, threw her hand up as if in a friendly salute as I turned to go.

All the way home that night, the duration of a twenty minute walk uphill and through the blessedly manicured neighborhood with houses that had real windows and not plywood, I'd thought of her.  Her full, white, sheepish smile.  How one corner of her lip rose up higher than the other when she spoke.  The invitation for a drink.  And the wink.  She'd been hitting on me.

For three nights since, I'd lain awake far past my bedtime, thinking of that mouth and touching myself.  I'd also been avoiding my evening walks.  I struggled to put my finger on exactly what I was feeling.  

As I sat at my long, fancy kitchen table that fourth evening, drinking wine from a juice glass and noting the empty chairs and my lack of human contact, the air seemed to grow oppressive.  Jim had called earlier, with a rushed two minute conversation about some kind of corporate meeting overseas.  He wouldn't be home again until next week.  So much for a romantic weekend!

I was three drinks deep in my feelings as I ran my fingertips across the side of my neck and scratched a gentle path deep into my cleavage.  I was burning up.  A good walk was what I needed.  The cool night air would cheer me up.

I'm not even sure if I knew at first where I was going.  It's almost like my feet subconsciously carried me.  Down the steep slope of asphalt, past the parking lot that was quickly emptying as tired business folk locked their doors for the day.  I zig-zagged past parked cars and a few pedestrians walking their dogs until suddenly I was upon the right-hand corner of the last building.  I noted the crack in it's front swinging glass door, the random bricks that had fallen from it's foundation as I shuffled on.  And then I was there, standing on the dirt path.   

I thought about the neighborhood as I shuffled along.  How quickly the setting switched like night to day, from nice houses and well-kept lawns to the rundown buildings and a trashy trailer court.  Are you actually going to sleep with a strange lesbian woman who lives in a dump?  You don't even know her last name!  If my thoughts served to detour me, they proved unsuccessful.  If anything, the idea thrilled me.  It turned me on that Ellie was from the proverbial wrong side of the tracks.  The prospect of sleeping with a sexy butch lady for the first time excited me.  My heart thumped in anticipation of whatever this night would bring.

I could see Ellie's dilapidated trailer as I turned the corner.  I hesitated for a moment.  What will you say?  You are a married woman.  You are straight!  I was bombarded with these thoughts, even as my legs carried me forward.  Is it really cheating if it's with a woman?  But you've never slept with another female.  How do you know she'd even want you?  I had no viable answer to the banter of this inner dialogue, so I just shut my mind off completely and allowed my feet to carry me.

The backyard was empty.  Ellie wasn't hanging clothes.  So my first reaction was to just turn around and go.  But my body was no longer listening to my brain.  Steadily, my steps carried me across the backyard, muddy spare a few patches of grass here and there.  Straight up the back steps I went, and across that rickety old porch that rocked beneath my feet like it might just give away any minute.  This thing could cave in at any moment.  You may just die here.  What a way to go!  

I'm sure my mind would have kept conjuring scenarios of doom had Ellie not opened the back door.  Without a word, she flashed that crooked half-smile, opened the door and nodded her head as if to say I've been waiting for you, come on in.

We exchanged hurried hellos before I found myself seated on an old plaid couch.  It looked like a piece of discarded furniture that you might find in a college  dorm room or an old garage piece.  But it looked clean so I leaned into it's soft cushions as Ellie served drinks.

"I'm afraid it's plain old beer for me," she apologized.  "Nothing fancy here.  But it's cold."  She handed me a Michelob and smiled before popping her can open.

We were three cans into a conversation about our differing neighborhoods and the lack of jobs in our area when she placed her hand on my knee and asked pointedly, "For what do I owe you this visit, Shayla?"

"I'm lonely," I blurted out.  Oh my god, why would you say that.  That sounds so...desperate!

"Well," she smiled, looked down at her hand on my knee, looked back at me.  " I can definitely remedy that."

"I'm also married," I sighed.  I might as well be completely honest about my situation.   I feared she might very well ask me to leave but I'd learned long ago how unfair it was to withhold important information where love and sex was concerned.  "But he's a businessman, always gone."

She nodded, I could see the wheels in her head turning.

"I've also never been with a woman," I spat out before she had a chance to turn me down.

She giggled.  Obviously my confessions amused her.  I smiled back at her.  She leaned forward.  Her face was so close to mine now.  I noticed a tiny brown mole over her left upper lip.  And those eyes, they were an azure bluish-purple.  Her eyes, alone, were mesmerizing.  A whisp of hair short, blonde hair and fallen over her eyes.  Instinctively I reach to smooth it away from her face.

I had one hand cupped against her cheek, the fingers of my other had made a weave through her hair.  So soft.  She was so soft and beautiful.  

She licked her lips, reach her hand up, laid it over the one I had against her cheek.  

"Don't stop touching me," she nestled her cheek against my palm.  "You feel so good.  Maybe I'm lonely too.  We can help each other."

Before I could breathe another word of protest, she'd cupped my face in her heads.  She pulled me in for a kiss.  Deep, long, her sultry hot tongue probing my mouth.  In and out, she massaged my tongue with her own.  I thought my lungs were going to burst for air when she finally pulled back.

"Oh my," my vocabulary had left me.  All I could do is murmur and agree.

"C'mere," she said as she laid the flat of her back on the couch.  She pulled me on top in one swift moment.  She was strong.  I liked that.

I was straddling her now as she wrapped her arms around me and pulled me down for another long kiss.  

We kissed and made out for what seemed like an eternity.  Ellie was good with her tongue.  She would run it down the side of my neck, nibble my ear lobe, then thrust it back into my mouth like the treat it was.  We were only kissing, but I couldn't get enough.

Finally, after both our lips were chapped satisfactorily, she pulled my shirt off, and her own, seemingly at the same time.  I was impressed as she pushed both her breasts against my own.  I could feel her hard nipples as the scraped against my sensitive tits.  She must have sensed the discomfort in my face because she suddenly grabbed them both, taking turns to gently suck and kiss each nipple.  Over and over, she sucked, flicked her tongue, switched tits and started all over.  

My nipples had always been sensitive.  I'd never even let the men I slept with fondle them, much to their chagrin.  Ellie must have been working some type of tongue magic, because my cunt couldn't get enough of her sucking my nipples.  

"Pants off," she huffed, laying back down.  "Panties too," she smiled, an afterthought.

Her cunt was every bit as wet as mine.  I sat hunched on my heels, straddled over her.  I was wide open and dripping.  My little pink clit was already swollen.  She laid below me, her legs spread wide and bent at the knees.  She was ready to receive me but I had other plans.

I reach down with my finger, ran my fingertip the length of her sexy, wet slit.  She moaned and watched me as  I sucked her honey off my fingers.  I dipped again, this time with two fingers.  I wasn't ready to suck though, I wanted to really get my fingers wet.  With no warning I thrust both fingers into her, up to the hilt.  She moaned and thrust her hips up.  In and out, I worked her little wet honey hole.  The harder I fucked her with my fingers, the wetter she was.  Finally my hand was covered in juices.   

I pulled my fingers out and made a demonstration of carefully, slowly sucking her sweet juices off my hand.  Finger by finger, the length of my palm.  I wanted her to watch my tongue at work.

"C'mere," she reach to pull me down.

"No," I refused.  "Your juices aren't enough, I want to taste you."

I'd never had anything in my mouth before but a cock.  But her sweet cunt was nothing like the rough, hard men I'd been with over the years.  She was soft to the touch.  Moist.  Creamy.  I sucked on her little bud, flicked my tongue across it.  Then I moved down to get the full taste of her honey hole.  I wanted to smell the sweet smell of her, taste the salt of her hole as it tightened around my tongue and she moaned.

I licked and sucked until she was nearly dry.  Then I licked and teased her clit once more until she got wet for me all over again.

"Please," she begged, reaching for me as if she needed saving.  "I want to feel you against me."

My legs were getting tired by now anyway, so I lowered my cunt onto hers suddenly, with all my weight, and no warning.

"Oh," she gasped.  That as the surprise I was looking for.

I don't know what had gotten into me, but I sort of enjoyed inflicting the little bit of pain onto her clit.  I liked being able to take control, take her by surprise.

I was barely moving as she attempted to thrust and rub her full, wet cunt across my open, throbbing little hole.  But I was resisting.

"Okay," her eyes flickered as she reach up and grabbed me by the hair, roughly pulling my head sideways.  "You are going to fuck me, right now."

"Oh," I cried as she wrapped my hair around her hand and continued to pull my head at an awkward angle as she thrust her clit into mine, over and over.  

I'd never really had my hair pulled.  My husband was not a rough lover.  Actually, he'd never been much of a lover at all.  He treated our sex life like some sort of duty.  Usually he'd climb on top, grunt, thrust a few times, and then fall over on his side of the bed.  Done until next week!

This was different.  Ellie was making me feel things.  And, I found, a little bit of pain and roughhouse excited me.  The harder she pulled my hair, the harder my clit throbbed.

She pulled my head down, kissed me deeply.  I she flicked her tongue in and out of my mouth in tandem with her hips against my hips.  I caught it with my teeth, sucked.  She tasted so good.  I had no idea a woman could taste and feel so good. Perhaps I've been playing the wrong team my entire life, I thought to myself and chuckled.

"Oh," she grunted against my mouth.  "I'm about to come."

"Not yet, you aren't," I said as I  climbed off and dived between her legs with my face. I wanted to lick her off.  I'd never done that before, but I figured it wouldn't be too difficult.  Being a woman, myself, I knew how to please.  I caught her hard little clit between my lips, sucked gently. She pushed her hips into my face while I gently fucked her clit with my tongue.  

Right when she was about to come I pulled back.

"Don't stop," she seemed irritated as she thrust her hips into the air where my head had been just a second earlier.

"You are being a bad girl," I said.  "First forcing me to fuck you before I was ready.  Second, being impatient."  I tilted my head sideways, as if I were thinking hard about something.  "I think you need punished."

Her eyelids lifted, as if in question.  Before she could ask what or how, or anything else, I raised my hand and smacked her clit hard.  Surprised, she closed her legs quickly.

"Oh, no," I said.  "You have to take your punishment." 

I lowered my mouth to her cute, tight little pink honey hole and thrust my tongue in and out while I gently spanked her clit.  Over and over I smacked her little piece of meat until she began to moan.  Still, I kept going, pausing every now and then to give it  a nice little suck.

I spanked and sucked and fucked her with my tongue until, at least, she came hard.  I dipped my tongue inside her and allowed her juices  to sleep all over my lips and into my mouth.  I slurped, swallowed.  I wanted every drop of this sexy woman.  She came and moaned and pulled my hair.  

Her cunt was so sexy and wet and I was so close to cumming myself.  I dipped two fingers inside her with one hand as I continued licking the juices off her clit, then with my other hand, I fucked myself off.  It only took a matter of seconds.  I'd never been so hot and turned on in my entire life.

At last, when our moans had ceased an my heart rate began to slow and her cunt was dry from all my licking and sucking, I collapsed across her body.  She wrapped her arms around me as I burrowed my face between her breasts and sighed.

"Did you have a good first time?" She whispered into my hair.

"Oh yes, I did," I reach up to kiss her lips.

"Maybe we can have a second time soon," she smiled at me, that sexy, crooked smile that I'd just met but felt like I would learn to find familiar.

"Of course," I said back, as I laid my head against her warm body again.

Yes, there would be a second time, a third, and more, I thought to myself as I laid there on top this woman I'd just met 24 hours ago, bare naked and not caring.  Besides, no one was home but us.  And my husband wasn't due back from his business trip for another week.

Yes, there was plenty of time.  And there would plenty more of plenty of times.

"You feel so good," I murmured before I drifted off into a blissful sleep.