I’m like a teenage boy tonight. If she touches it, I’ll explode. Come all over her fingers. In my pants. I can’t keep still. My thighs shifting. Opening. Lifting my ass off this folding chair and sitting back down, adjusted.
Keep an eye on her fingers. Let her see you blush. Let her catch you looking. Looking at her. Her mouth. Her neck. Her tits. The hem of her skirt. Her boots. Your thighs. The buttons of your shirt. Your belt. Your own crawling, clawing fingers.
“Baby,” I want to say, but she’s not my baby. “Hey,” I say, thinking that maybe I can keep her talking a minute or two longer. Maybe there’s something more to say. Something more she wants to hear. Something that will make her smile a little and look down. Make her think about it.
My ass is sore from sitting on this metal chair. People were yawning and nodding off all around us. I was nervous. Picking at the stitching on my jeans. Scratching the back of my head. Craning my neck a little lower just to see how her shirt pulled between the buttons across her tits. “Jesus,” I thought, this woman looks so fucking good. She caught me staring at her all night. I saw her smile and blush. I felt the energy of it jump around inside me. Boost my swagger.
“Hey,” I said, “Come on, let’s get out of here.” She looked over her shoulder like there was someone who needed to give permission, then turned around with a smile that looked good on her and said, “Sure.” We nodded at each other, scraping our chairs loudly against the linoleum as we stood up.
Outside, I smoked a cigarette and she wrinkled up her nose at the drifting smoke. Not what I expected. The night was cool. She talked about Mexico. Wanted to know if I’d been. I hadn’t. Wanted to tell me about it. Why she loves it. We talked about all the people who go but never see Mexico. People who go and stay at some fancy spa with salt water pools and breezy drapes and generically fancy meals. “Why the fuck do I want to travel all that way to stay in some nondescript hotel?” I shook my head. “People are stupid,” she said. “Fucking idiots,” I agreed.
We didn’t have much to say after Mexico. My fingers were fumbling for a place to land. In and out of my pockets. Touching my lighter. Feeling the wadded up bits of paper and change. We looked in every window that we passed, indiscriminately. The cleaners. The eyeglass place. An empty shell of what was a decent bar once. The coffee shop was still open. Two americanos. She sat with me outside on a bench, leaning a little against my shoulder as we watched people walk by. It felt okay. Quiet and peaceful. Like we knew each other better than we did.
I slid my arm over her shoulder and she gave me a funny look. “I don’t know,” I said, smiling shrugging, like I was trying to figure something out, “I like you.” She smiled at me, “Yeah,” she said, “Me too.” I kissed her then. I kissed her soft. I rested my fingers lightly on her knee, letting them slip just between her legs a little. She touched my cheek. She ran her fingers from my neck up the back of my head, through my hair, and gripped my head. Electric. The fuzzed out thick cords of energy shot through my arms and legs. I needed her hand on me.
I grabbed her wrist and pulled her off the bench. “We gotta go,” I said and led the way to my little apartment a few blocks away. I had to battle with my bike inside the door – shoving it halfway into my closet to give us room to move. “Damn,” I said and squeezed her knuckles. I kissed her up against the bathroom door and tugged at her hand. “I want it so bad,” I whispered.
We weren’t drunk. Not even tipsy. Buzzed a little, I guess, from meeting someone new, the night air, the coffee. But it’s not as easy like this. It’s not sloppy like when your drunk and just slip into it, wondering later who started something. This was clear. I started it. And she was right there with me.
She tensed against my grabbing hands. Her arm jerking upwards as I tried to push her hand between my legs, my eyes pleading with her. She smiled with a playful look, her tongue on her teeth, as she jerked her hand out of my grip. I circled her waist with a quick grip and slapped her forearm, seeing the sting of it in her scowl for a split second. We struggled for a minute. She slapped my hands away several times before I had her wrist tight in my fingers again. She laughed from deep in her throat. “I want it,” I said, and felt my muscles strain to shove her hand between my legs. I had to hold it there, rubbing her closed fist against me. I felt myself twitch and throb.
I had to hold on tight. She bucked. I felt my neck get hot and wet with sweat. My chest, my back, my thighs burning with a stiff tension. I held her tight around her middle and flipped the both of us around so her back was up against the door. Now I could lean into her. Get the heels of my boots up off the ground and drive myself hard against her. I held onto the closed doorknob to keep from being pushed away. I felt her heart pound. I smashed my mouth against hers and let go long enough to move my hands around to her ass, pulling her harder against me. “Come on,” I groaned, my spit hitting her lips.
I pulled us harder against each other. I gripped her thigh between mine and dragged myself up and down. “Feel me,” I said, “I want you to touch it.” My voice shook. I gave myself away. She touched me, lightly, on the small of my back. “I like this,” she said and grabbed my hips, “Come on.” She pulled me harder up and down against her thigh. She moaned and coo’d her encouragement. I tensed up, sweating through my clothes, breathing hot and hard. “Damn it,” I said, jerking my head and slapped the palms of my hands against the door. The boom shook us. I grabbed her face and pulled her over to the bed. I sat down and patted the mattress beside me, “Sit.”
Leaning back on my arms, I let my knees fall wide and looked at her. I looked at her hands. Looked at my jeans. “I want you to touch it,” I said, shifting my hips.
She leaned against me and started slow with her hand just above my knee. She pet me, squeezed my leg, rubbed her hand harder and harder up and down my thigh. She stroked me with her fingers, just inside my thighs, until I thought I was going to pass out. “Please,” I whimpered and her fingers traced the seam of my jeans right up and over my clit. The ripples shot through me as her nails dragged between my legs, catching on the thick denim. She teased me like this until I felt dizzy and closed my eyes, breathing deep.
She slid my belt buckle open and pulled my belt off slowly, making the leather hiss through the loops. Her hand slid under my jeans after she took her time unbuttoning my fly. Her fingers rested for a moment on my soaked briefs before pushing them aside and running her fingers on either side of my stiffening cock. Wet and hard. I felt it grow between her knuckles. She tugged and pulled. “You’re getting so big,” she whispered and stroked me in a slow, lazy fashion.
I sat leaning back on my arms and watched her wrist bend with each pull. I stared as the base of her thumb circled and slid in and out of my pants. Up and down. Teasing me bigger. So swollen. So hot.
She heard my breath change. She heard where I was and put her head against my chest. “I want you to come in my hand like this,” she said, “Let me see it.” Her head bent further down, resting against my stomach. “Come right here,” she said, “Come in my face like this,” and moved herself between my legs, letting me see her cheek, the hair falling over her eyes, her parted lips. My hips jerked up again and again. She pulled so hard on my clit. I lifted my ass for a second to pull my pants down to my thighs and crashed back down, jerking hard into her hand. Watching her stroke me. Feeling that rush.
I came so hard. I came in slow, lengthy, shuddering waves. Coming and coming in a way I didn’t recognize. She kept stroking me and it felt so damn good. I held her hand against me until I stilled. She kissed my wet inner thigh. We flopped back on the bed and I tried to roll over on top of her but she hushed me with a “There there now, sweet boy.” “Save it for next time,” she said and kissed my neck with her fingers on my shirt buttons. I lay there feeling her scratch at my chest, taking her in.
“Hey,” I said, “We should go to Mexico.” She looked up at me. She laughed and bit my rib, “What?” “Yeah, I don’t know,” I said, “It sounds like fun though.”