Vignette #02

At midday...the heat from the noisy radiator permeates the room, and he shoves a finger between his throat and the collar of his button-up shirt. He has already loosened his tie, the playful one she had given him for Christmas, with the Pink Panther lounging by the beach clutching a margarita. He loosens the top button on his shirt, and glances at the clock.

Noon. He had said that he would call...

The phone rings before he can pick it up. When he answers it, the voice on the other end is not hers. He tunes the man on the other end out, and only vaguely hears,

"Hello? Jeff?"

"Sorry," he apologizes, injecting a remorse he does not feel into his voice. "What was that?"

His caller repeats himself, and he decides whatever he wants, it can wait. He says so, and hangs up. His shift does not end for another three hours, and he has skipped lunch so he can call her on her lunch break. He walks over and closes his office door...the office assistant will know that means he doesn't wish to be disturbed.

He thinks of her, and feels his heart rate quicken. Almost of their own volition, his hands do the work and make the call.

"Angela Blair. How may I help you?" Her voice, sultry, low, impossibly sexy, shivers through him like ice chips on a hot summer afternoon.

"Can you cool my fever?" he asks her, his voice already husky with his need. "It's been raging all morning, and nothing I've done has worked."

He hears her sharp intake of breath, the slow release of it, the shaky little laugh, and then she says,

"Babe, I forgot you said you'd call!"

"I'll forgive you for forgetting me, if you'll make me an offer I can't refuse," he says, deliberately lowering his voice. "Make it a wet one, and I'll probably forget my name!"

Her hears her chuckle, and knows her face is coloring with the shyness he finds so utterly captivating.

"A wet offer?" she says. "You want a snowball fight?" The teasing note in her voice licks at the flames of his desire.

"Only if you dry me off when we're done," he says, the picture in his mind of her hands on him hardening the evidence of his lust, evidence she cannot see. "And warm me up. Can you do that?"

He doesn't think her voice can get any more sensual than it already is. It does.

"What shall I use?" she wonders, "hmmm?" He hears her take a breath, and suddenly, his lust gets the better of him.

"Your breath," he says, and breathes deeply in her ear. "Like this," he adds, and breathes again.

He hopes she is as wound up as he is. He looks at the photograph of her that he has on his desk. Short, curly hair, a round face, big, expressive brown eyes, heart-shaped lips...

"Baby," he says suddenly, "I wanna kiss you so badly right now..." he inhales, and then goes on, "On those lips, the tip of that pert little nose, the pulse that's beating there, right there in the hollow of your throat. Touch it for me, babe!"

"Jeff!" she whispered, and his groin aches all over again. His cock twitches at the way she sighs his name.

"So...make me an offer!"

"Kisses good enough to satisfy you, big guy?" she asks.

"Tea and kisses," he says. "Will I get some tongue?"

"As long as we share and share alike," she says, and he can hear the struggle she has to speak the words. Oh yeah...she is ready.

He speaks his own words without thinking them through, fueled now entirely by an all-consuming lust:

"Yeah, I'll have some tongue with my tea, please! And some good, hard, wet lovemaking for dessert. You game?"

When she doesn't answer, he grins, suddenly lighthearted.

"I can't see you nod, babe! Say yes!"

His demand is urgent. He needs to hear her agree.

"Yes," she says, her voice cracked and shaking.

He smiles. "Meet me after work at Alice's Teacup." He pauses, thinking of their last tea date there, and he suppresses a groan. "Don't make me wait too long, baby! I'll order till you come."

"Okay," she replies. "I can't wait!"

"Me either, sweetheart!"

He hangs up...three hours to wait. He groans aloud this time...

*********************************************** Day's end...and the little buzzer on the desk goes off, reminding me I had promised myself to leave when my day was over, instead of lingering on, finding things to do. I had promised him that I would meet him after work, for tea and conversation...and maybe more.

Work day's end...time for me to make my way to the little tea house he'll be waiting in, the delicate little sandwiches and the pot of tea patient upon the frilly cloth-covered table. I am ready for him, as I have been since that sensual call at noon that shattered the serenity of my soul. I am more than ready...

Work day's end...and the last student walks in, asking about the task I had given the class that morning.

"My day is over!' I say, looking pointedly at my watch.

"I'm sorry, miss, but I don't understand the question," the girl replies, adopting an injured air, in anticipation of the righteous indignation she knows she will feel when I turn her away.

I am ready for her...

"If you had been in class, missy, instead of at the end of the hall sucking faces with Dave, you might have heard the clear directions I gave the whole class."

Thrust for thrust, parry for parry... My thoughts go to him, to the call at midday, to the heavy breathing, the softly spoken words of raw lust he breathes into my ear. I blink...

"I wasn't..." she begins, and I spear her with a withering look.

She stops speaking, and drops her eyes, a preface, no doubt, to the hang-dog look she will adopt as soon as she perceives she will be turned away. My tryst awaits - his arms, his hands, his mouth...

"Jessica, the instructions on the sheet that follow the question are very clear. I suggest you read them again, when you get home, before you decide you don't understand. What have I said about reading directions?"

Through the thickening mists of my own need, I can almost hear the rusty wheels turning in her head as she tries to recall what I may have said in one of her infrequent visits to my class about reading directions. Finding that all the doors she manages to open hide only empty rooms, she bites her bottom lip. I bite back the retort that springs first to my lips....

"See? That's another thing you've missed." I turn from her to shut down the computer. "E-mail me tonight if, after you have read it carefully, you still don't know what to do."

I move from behind the desk, and she leaves, reluctantly, a pout upon her pretty red lips. I shrug into the heavy coat - it is well below freezing out of doors - and hurry out to the car...

I see him as I round the corner, standing in the freezing cold, his head uncovered, waiting for me...

My heart speeds up, my hands begin to sweat inside the leather gloves. I park and reach him without much conscious thought, and his arms enfold me.

"You came!" he says, and kisses me.

"I missed you!" I reply, and kiss him back.

We both collect ourselves...it is a conscious effort on our parts, marked by the firm hand he places on my shoulder to push me away from his mouth, marked by my licking suddenly parched lips.

"Tea!" he announces into the distracted air, and shepherds me inside.

The teapot appears, as if by magic, the little plate of sandwiches, and a pot of strawberry preserves for the biscuits (that's what they call them where he's from). He settles me in my chair, taking my coat and hanging it with his along the wall.

I pour his tea into a tall glass teacup and offer him the sugar.

"Sandwich?" I ask, and he takes two.

I watch him bite into the little triangle, his tongue appearing to lick a crumb from his bottom lip. He smiles at me, a knowing smile, and sips his tea. I spread some of the strawberry on a cracker and, on a whim, offer it to him. He holds my hand, and takes the cracker whole into his mouth, licking the jam that's on my fingers along the way. And as he lets me go, he slides the point of a stiff finger along my palm. I swallow a moan...

"My turn!" he says, his voice low, his intent plain. He smears some more of the fruity concoction on a second cracker and pulls me in with his eyes.

"Open up for me!" he asks, and I feel him place the cracker on my tongue, fruit side down. I close my mouth, as my legs open to the insistent push of his feet between mine, and suck, and then I chew the sweet treat.

"Good?" he wants to know.

I nod, unable to take my eyes from his.

"Have another?"

I nod again, and he slides his foot slowly up my leg. I moan, and he sets the cracker against my parted lips, his eyes begging me for admittance. I open my mouth again, and he slides it in, making a smear of fruit on my lip. Before I can lick it off, he swipes it with his finger, and sucks the digit into his mouth, his eyes never leaving mine...

"Why were you late?" he asks, feeding me a dainty sandwich next, and sidling around to my side. I cannot think...

"A student..." I begin, and then his hand finds its way into my lap.

I choke. He smiles and pats my back...

Work day's end...

********************************************** After midnight...and can you hear the whisper of the silken sheets across her heated skin? After midnight...and can you feel the shimmer of heat roll off his hardening rod?

After midnight...

...she shivers, as much with cold as with desire. He has not come in as yet, but she can hear him in the other room. What is he doing now? The cool blue satin sheets chills her as she stretches against them in the dark, and waits for him to come.

It had been a long day...a hard day, and she had been exhausted when she walked in the door. Exhausted and ready for a hot bath and bed. The note on the coffee table had set her pulse to racing...

"Dinner will be late. Your bath is set. Have a drink till I get there!"

Upstairs, the bath had been full of bubbles, the air in the room flavored with her favorite strawberry-scented candles. She had stripped slowly, enjoying the smells that assaulted her senses, and noticing the wine in a cooler and the glasses on the edge of the bath. She had sipped from the glass he had poured for her, and had hummed along with the music on the radio. The bath had been a glorious feast for her senses ...but yet, she had wanted him there, with her.

She had stepped out when the water had begun to cool, and she had begun to nod off in the tub, and had wrapped herself in the deep red silk robe he had thoughtfully provided...no underwear, she had noticed with a shiver of anticipation.

He had met her in the bedroom, and had kissed her deeply, making her moan with desire.

"Get into bed," he had whispered huskily in her ear, "and wait for me. I'll be right back!"

Now here she lay, naked and aroused. She watches the shadows play on the wall opposite the bed, and thinks fancifully that she would give anything to feel his big body crushing her into the mattress, as long as his cock finds a home in her now aching sex. The very thought makes her squirm, and she moves her body against the sheets seductively, sliding her hands over them, pulling them against her nipples.

"Move over!" he says, and she blinks. He slides into the bed beside her, and reaches for her. His hands are rough, calloused, and their touch on her bare skin heats her blood to boiling.

"Hey! Thanks for the bath!" she whispers. "But I missed you..." She lets her voice trail off.

"I was always there, baby!" he says into her hair. "I never left you...and I never will!" He pulls her over to his face, and kisses her again and again on her willing, wanting mouth, plumbing its depths, sliding alongside her tongue and mating with it, and following suit with his hard man's body. She is dizzy when he lets her go.

"Ready for more?" he wants to know, raking his scorching gaze over her.

She slides a leg over his in answer, and pushes her hips against him.

"Whenever you are, big boy!' she says hoarsely. "Can you handle me?"

He laughs...and she shivers.

After midnight...