I was eager, anxious, excited, frustrated, and a little bit confused. I tried to sort it all out in my head, but the only clear thought I had was of her. Kate. How had I attached so many emotions to one person? I hadn’t felt this way since the eighth grade!
I’d pursued women before, but I’d always known more about them, where I could find them, what they liked. Kate was a mystery. I didn’t even know her last name. She knew me no better. Well, perhaps a little better, I thought to myself, as I remembered the feeling of her hand wrapped around my erection.
The one thing I knew about her, the one solid thing, was when I’d see her next. Tuesday. I knew she’d be at the Jazz Club, I never had any serious doubts, and I found my certainty curious. Unfortunately, I’d had plenty of time to think about why I was so certain. The days until Tuesday dragged by, one plodding hour after another.
Each day by noon, I’d finished every last bit of work that I had to do. There were only three other people in the office, so I used the time in the afternoons to do my Christmas shopping. Despite being a bachelor, I had a fairly extensive list of people on my gift list: my brother and his wife, their two kids, my mother, my father and his wife, college-age cousins (girls) that I was close to, Gabriel, the girls in the office, servers and bartenders at the Jazz Club, the list seemed to go on and on.
I did about half my shopping online—thank God for Amazon.com—and the rest of it in the large local malls. In order to distract myself from thoughts of Kate, I even made the 45-minute trip to the largest tourist trap in this part of the state, which contained no fewer than four major outlet malls and a whole host of smaller ones. Everyone and their cousin seemed to be out shopping, and the traffic was mind-numbing. I love the holiday season, but I hate the crowds. I love buying gifts, though, perhaps as much as I enjoy giving them.
I’d even toyed with the idea of getting Kate a gift. While I was shopping for everyone else, she was constantly on my mind. I stopped in a jewelry store to look at watches for my mother. Would Kate like jewelry? In my mind, I pictured her wearing a nice string of pearls, and nothing else. The salesman gave me a funny look as I fondled the string and smiled to myself. Kate wore a ring on her right ring finger, but nothing else that I’d noticed. Reluctantly, I ruled out jewelry. Too personal, too soon.
I walked past the Godiva store and decided to step inside. I bought half-pound boxes for the servers at the Jazz Club, one-pound boxes for the girls in the office. I looked over the boxes of truffles, and thought about Kate’s lips wrapped around… Well, by the time the harried salesgirl got my attention, I wasn’t thinking about Kate’s lips and truffles. I decided against chocolate. Too sappy.
When I passed the Victoria’s Secret store, I simply had to enter, even though I couldn’t imagine giving anyone on my list something from Victoria’s Secret. No one, that is, except perhaps Kate. And she wasn’t even really on my list.
In spite of the fact that there was a decent crowd of shoppers in the store, I quickly had a salesgirl at my side. Her nametag read “Eve.”
“Is there something I can help you find?” she asked smoothly. She was young, perhaps 25, and very attractive.
“I’m looking for something for… a friend.”
“What size is your friend?” She used the euphemism with ease.
I opened my mouth to answer, thought about what I was about to say, and then actually laughed out loud. She looked at me curiously, so I hastily explained. “This is going to sound like the worst pick-up line, but she’s about your size.” I pointed vaguely at her lovely body. “About your build.”
She actually blushed. To her credit, she remained businesslike and showed me several very sexy outfits, ranging from evening wear to lingerie. Eve chose outfits in her size, and then held them against her body, modeling for me. With each one, I would imagine Kate wearing it, and my cock quickly stiffened. Eve noticed, but misinterpreted the cause, and mercilessly led me towards the more revealing, and erotic, pieces of lingerie.
By the time we looked at panties, her nipples were noticeably erect. As soon as Eve held up the first pair of lace thong panties, I had to bite my tongue to keep from laughing. Kate definitely had no need for those! Although I was enjoying flirting with Eve, I reluctantly decided that underwear was the wrong gift. Too personal, too soon.
When I thanked her and left, without asking for her phone number, I could tell that Eve was disappointed.
“I’ll be glad to help if you change your mind,” she said, laying a hand on my arm.
Change my mind about what? The lingerie, or the phone number? I looked into her eyes and smiled. Either, I decided. I thanked her again, and visions of Kate drew me out of the store and back into the mall.
For the rest of the week, I ruled out everything I looked at, for one reason or another. It all came down to the simple fact that I knew so little about Kate. Besides, while our encounters were heated, they only consisted of a brief flash of her shaved pussy, a little help at the toilet, an almost-handjob, and several intense—but very promising—kisses. So I mentally scratched her off my gift-giving list. For the moment.
When Tuesday finally arrived, I was mostly finished with my holiday shopping, and I was exhausted. I spent the entire morning working in a Kate-fueled haze. I tried, unsuccessfully, to get her off my mind. I would succeed for a few minutes, if I managed to distract myself on the Net, but I kept coming back to her, kept thinking about her mannerisms, her exquisite body, her attitude.
I don’t know what chemicals are released by the brain when you want something, or someone, but I felt like I was mainlining them. I couldn’t remember a time when I’d wanted a woman as much as I wanted her. I’d decided that I was half-crazy, blinded by lust. I spent most of the morning with an erection, thinking about her—the feeling of her warm fingers squeezing my cock, the swell of her breast pressed against my arm, the sight of her smooth slit, punctuated by a thin strip of pubic hair. I wasn’t half-crazy, I finally decided, I was entirely crazy.
I looked at my watch and decided to take an early lunch. When I returned, a little after 1:20 p.m., I settled in to do a little shopping online. I browsed Amazon.com. I set up a Wish List and filled it with all the DVDs I could possibly want, and some I didn’t know I wanted. I went to Crate & Barrel online, and shopped for knick-knacks, abandoning a shopping cart filled with $500 worth of stuff I didn’t need. I answered some e-mail. I took a call. I looked at my watch, 2:05 p.m.
I hit eBay, aimlessly wandering through the myriads of treasures at auction. After I got bored there, I read the current news at Salon.com. I read the columnists I liked: David Horowitz, Camille Paglia, Amy Reiter, Allen Barra, and others. I clicked through the layers of the site, reading anything that struck my interest, for what seemed like hours. I looked at my watch, 2:40 p.m. Thirty-five minutes? I did all that in thirty-five minutes?
I tapped on my watch crystal, despite the fact that the second hand was sweeping. I searched for an online time server, and set my watch to the exact time. Then I set my computer’s clock to the exact time. Then I found an automatic time applet, downloaded it, installed it, paid for it, got the confirmation code in my e-mail, and registered it. I looked at the computer’s clock—accurate to within mere microseconds, courtesy of the U.S. Naval Observatory—2:51 p.m.
Music! I needed some music. I opened up my MP3s folder, queued up a bunch of my favorites from the Eighties, and then hit play. Time, 2:55 p.m. I bounced through songs in the queue, listening to the first few bars, before moving on to the next song that I just couldn’t wait to hear. I finally got tired of the Eighties, 2:59 p.m., so I queued up the Nineties. I loaded WinAmp with a good 75 songs and hit play at 3:03 p.m. Finally, I settled in to browse for new skins for WinAmp. Twenty-three skins and eleven minutes later, I got bored.
The Ninth Symphony, one of my favorites, was 70-some-odd minutes long. They’d designed 74-minute CDs, way back when, so that the whole Symphony would fit on one disc. I scrapped Blink 182 and loaded Beethoven. If I could last through the whole Symphony, I’d make it close enough to 4:30, when the Jazz Club opened. I had high hopes. I made it to the second movement, the one I think of as the “chase scene.” Time, 3:27 p.m.
I closed my eyes and thought of her. Sensual lips. Even white teeth. Pear-shaped breasts. Trim stomach. Shapely hips. Legs, legs, legs. Did I mention her legs? I got an erection, just thinking about her calves and ankles. Ankles… one in each hand as I thrust into her… Snap out of it, man!
I looked at myself and decided I needed to change clothes. I needed a shower. I needed to get out of the office. The office was a vortex where time was sucked away and the clocks all ran slow (despite the best efforts of the Naval Observatory). I closed WinAmp, I closed my e-mail, and I left. No one asked where I was going, but all three of the remaining people in the office looked at me funny. I didn’t care.
Why couldn’t I live further away from the office? The 10-minute drive was mindless, and short. I went inside and shed my clothes on the way through the bedroom. I’d pick them up later, maybe. I turned on the shower and stepped under the stinging spray, letting the heat infuse me. I shampooed, I washed, I scrubbed, and I shaved. I got an erection, thinking about how Kate would look, water-sleek and smiling, standing in the steam in front of me. I reached for my manhood, then decided against it. I wanted to wait. I luxuriated in the water until it ran cold. When I stepped out of the shower stall, every smooth surface in the bathroom was fogged.
I wiped off the mirror, and then the clock next to the door, 3:58 p.m. I went through my bathroom routine, mechanically. With my body on autopilot, my mind wandered, and I thought of her. I got another erection, but resolutely refused to touch it.
When I opened my closet, I stared in dismay at the racks of clothes. I must have gone through the better part of half my wardrobe, looking for the perfect outfit. When I finally decided on comfortable jeans and a pullover sweater that made my chest look good, I was mentally exhausted. I had to get it together! Kate would see me and wonder where the cool, collected guy she’d been fondling the week before had gone, and then she would wonder why had he been replaced by this doofus?
I opened the nightstand drawer and stuffed two condoms in my front pocket and then lay down on the bed, on top of a pile of discarded clothes. I sneaked a quick look at the clock, 4:16 p.m. I wanted to leave soon, so I could hopefully relax and have a drink or two before she arrived. I tried to calm down, to control my breathing, and closed my eyes.
I opened them again, a couple of minutes later, and automatically looked at the bedside clock, 6:18 p.m. Ahhhh, good, I thought to myself. I’d only had my eyes closed for two minutes, so I could… Two minutes? I looked at the clock again in growing panic. Two minutes? Two hours and two minutes!
I flew off the bed and quickly brushed my teeth again, cleaning the taste of sleep from my mouth. My errant hair refused to cooperate when I ran my fingers through it. With a final look at myself in the mirror, I ignored my hair and headed for the front door. I stuffed my feet into my shoes, grabbed my coat, and headed out to the Rover.
I drove like a madman to the Jazz Club. I didn’t know a Range Rover would drive well standing on two wheels, but it handled like a champ. When I pulled into the parking lot, it was nearly full of cars from the after-work crowd. I found a spot, near the back, and headed for the front door, restraining the urge to sprint. I had visions of seeing Kate’s Lexus pulling out of the parking lot just as I rounded the corner. While I walked, as quickly as my self-imposed decorum would allow, I hastily scanned the parking lot for a sign of her car. No luck. The sodium streetlights muted the colors and I couldn’t pick out her car.
At the front door, I paused to compose myself. I ran a hand through my hair and straightened my jacket. As calmly as I could, I reached for the door handle and then pulled. When I stepped inside, my eyes immediately scanned the vestibule. No sign of her, and a rushed glance at the cloakroom revealed a lot of black leather coats. I had just started for the stairs when I looked up at a smooth pair of legs, long legs, encased in knee-length white stockings. My eyes moved up, over the pleated Catholic-schoolgirl skirt, over the fitted and buttoned blue blazer. My gaze then slid over the swell of luscious, pear-shaped breasts, over the long, elegant neck, and finally settled on the twinkling blue eyes I’d seen in my imagination for the past week.
“Hi there,” she said nonchalantly.
I tried to look as unruffled as I could, but I’m sure it was a weak effort. “Hi.”
“I was beginning to think you weren’t going to be here,” she said.
“I’m here,” I said, stating the obvious. I was on pins and needles.
Her eyes flicked towards the restrooms and then she grinned mischievously. She moved down the stairs, and I reflexively took a step back. When she lifted the hem of my sweater and hooked her fingers in the waist of my jeans, I became instantly erect. She gave me a tug, and I mindlessly followed her lead.
The two guys waiting in line for the men’s room gave me shit-eating grins as Kate dragged me past them and into the ladies’ room. Once inside, she shut and locked the door, and then turned to me.
She wrapped her arms around my neck and stepped close. I put my hands on her hips and bent to kiss her. Our lips met and I immediately felt her tongue teasing mine, licking my lips, tasting me. The kiss grew heated and she pressed herself against me, grinding her hips against my erection. I was lost in her embrace, but it didn’t escape my notice when she dropped her hands and fumbled for my belt. In a moment, she’d stripped it open and pulled loose the buttons of my fly.
Her cool fingers reached into my boxers and withdrew my swollen member, caressing my length and squeezing me gently. She stood back and began stroking me in earnest, her eyes smoldering, a playful smile quirking her lips. When she turned to lean against the cool porcelain of the sink, she turned me with her, and then spread her legs so I could move closer.
I stepped forward and ran my hands up her torso to cup her breasts. She grinned at me while she continued stroking my cock, and I gently squeezed her fabric-encased breasts. The buttons on her fitted blazer, which was complete with a faux school crest, came undone under my skillful fingers. She gasped as I spread open her jacket and revealed the sheer blouse underneath.
She was braless, and her swollen nipples were clearly visible. I gripped them between thumb and forefinger, causing her to moan. When I began twisting them, she closed her eyes and whimpered. I released her breasts, and my hands trailed down her stomach to the waistband of her skirt, and then lower to the hem. Her eyes flew open as I lifted the plaid material.
The hand on my cock stopped moving as my hand darted under the pleated folds of her skirt and I found what I was looking for. She was smooth, and hot, and very, very wet. Her clit was already hard, so I ran my fingers up and down her slit, spreading her moisture and making her slippery. She began to look anxious, but then I bracketed her clit with two knuckles and rubbed the sides of the sensitive pearl, and she shuddered and closed her eyes in ecstasy.
With my other hand, I bunched her skirt up and extracted myself from her suddenly limp grasp. My cock was harder than it had been all day, and it had begun to ooze pre-come. I stepped forward and rubbed her slippery pussy with my swollen glans, causing her to moan again. I thought about the condoms in my pocket and was just reaching for them when…
I thought about my day, and all that had led me to this point, and I came to a decision. As I looked at her, calm washed over me like a wave. Her face and neck were flushed with desire, her nipples were diamond-hard points straining at the thin fabric of her sheer blouse, and her pussy was beckoning to me warmly. I moved forward and my cock slid over her pussy, teasing her clit with its passage. The base ground against her as my hips met her inner thighs.
When I stopped moving, she opened her eyes. Nervousness crept into her expression so I bent to kiss her. Her body responded against mine and the kiss heated. When I pulled back, we were both breathless. With lust-glazed eyes, she looked at where my cock was poking out from between us. Her hand reached for me, but I stopped her.
She looked confused as I reached into my jacket pocket and withdrew a pen and one of my business cards. I flipped the card over, held it in my left palm, and began to write on the back. I wrote down my private cell phone number and then put away the pen. She watched me curiously throughout.
“I want you more than I’ve wanted any woman in a long, long time,” I said.
She wiggled her hips against me and I almost relented. I could feel the heat and moisture of her pussy on the base of my cock, and it was almost more than I could resist. Ruthlessly, I quashed my rising lust and palmed my business card as I reached for her blazer. While I refastened the buttons, I bent to kiss her again, losing myself in the feel of her supple lips against my own.
“God! I want you,” I breathed, pitching my voice low. “But all this fucking teasing is making me insane.”
I kissed her again, hard and fast, and ground my hips against her, making her shudder. When I pulled back, I lifted her hand and put my business card in it. She stared at it uncomprehendingly for a moment, and then looked into my eyes.
“If you want me as much as I want you, and God how I hope you do, you’re going to have to call me,” I said.
Her eyes darted from my face, to my handwritten phone number, and then back again. I stepped back and looked at her while I stuffed my unwieldy erection back into my boxers. She looked disheveled, I hadn’t put her back together all that well, and I smiled as she looked at me in shock. I managed to button my jeans and fasten my belt, but my poor cock was crammed painfully down the leg of my shorts.
I leaned in to kiss her again, tenderly, but with some heat, and she whimpered as I pulled back.
“I don’t want a first-name-only, hard-and-fast-in-the-bathroom-and-then-we’re-gone kind of thing,” I said to her seriously. “It’s a good place to start, but a bad place to end.”
I turned for the door, but checked my motion. When I turned back to her, she looked at me in confusion. I pulled her towards me, and into my arms, and kissed her soundly. She resisted at first, and then melted against me, throwing her arms around my neck and twining her fingers in my hair as she pulled my head down.
I pulled back and reached for the door.
“Call me,” I said.
As I turned the doorknob and the lock clicked its release, she let me go. I brushed my fingers down her arm and over her palm, pulling her hand after me as I opened the door. My fingers lingered, holding hers, and then I let her go. When I stepped out into the dim hallway, there was no one in sight. I walked past the hostess and back into the cold night, wondering what I had just done.
I straightened my coat and walked purposefully towards the Rover. My erection was an uncomfortable reminder as I strode into the cold night, and I grinned ruefully when I thought about where it could have been.
And then, I wondered if she would call.
I didn’t make it home, I didn’t even make it to my car, before my phone was ringing. It was too soon to be her, I thought sullenly. It was probably Gabriel, lonely, and calling to talk to me about how all the 20-something girls weren’t interested in being bought. I was in no mood to talk to him.
The Caller ID labeled the call Private, but I was sure it was Gabriel, calling from his hotel. I answered the phone with a snarl. For a moment, I heard nothing from the other end of the line. Then I heard background noise, bar noise, and I became even more perturbed.
“What’s the matter? Are you okay?” I heard through the phone, faintly, from the background. “Who are you calling?”
I heard the sound of heavy breathing. “Hello?” It was her.
“Hello,” I said, anticipation making my voice waver.
“Yes.” Despite my growing excitement, I kept my voice level.
“Meet me in front of the restaurant,” she said.
“I’ll be right there.”