Not So Shy After All

“I never get to do anything exciting anymore,” I grumbled. “Between college and work, I never even go out. And my job is so incredibly boring. Sometimes when I’m sitting there waiting for the phone to ring, I just want to do something depraved – tear off the stupid, prissy clothes I have to wear and go running into the senior partner’s office screaming or something.”

Tommy had already been listening to me rant for half an hour but he waited patiently for me to run out of steam. He grinned when I mentioned running around naked but he didn’t say anything.

“I’m sick being the nice girl they think I am at work. Ugh. I just want to do something. Something different or shocking or… something,” I concluded lamely.

Suddenly I wished I hadn’t gone on like that. My time with Tommy usually involved an unexpected phone call from him after ten p.m. and a couple of hours of vigorous sex. I always enjoyed the sex, but I longed for more, and he knew it too. Which was why he knew he could keep calling and why I usually agreed to anything he suggested, no matter how dirty it seemed or how nervous it made me feel. And for once he was actually in my apartment at a reasonable hour and having a conversation with me. I’d had the chance to show him I was more than just a willing pussy, and I’d ruined it by sounding like a whining baby.

I desperately cast about for a more interesting subject for conversation but before I could grasp at something, Tommy spoke. “We’re going out,” he said. He took a final drag of his cigarette, tossed the butt out the window and stood up. “But you’re not wearing that.”

I opened my mouth, not sure if I was about to scold him about the cigarette – I hated it when he did that – or ask him where we were going, but his last comment distracted me. I glanced down at my jeans and crop-top with the flower appliqué on the chest. “What’s wrong with this?”

“You look like an eight-year-old.”

Tommy opened the door of my walk-in closet and began flipping through the clothes. I peered around him, chewing my lip as he rejected blouses, sweaters, and skirts.

“Those are for work,” I explained, not wanting him to think I actually liked the dowdy clothes he was rejecting.

“I figured.” He tossed me a denim mini-skirt. “This skirt is okay. Do you have any sexier tops?”

“Second drawer,” I said. Tommy stirred through the neatly stacked contents of my second dresser drawer. He held up and tossed back a few tops without refolding them, and I had to bite back the urge to complain about the mess he was making. Finally he came up with something tight and black with spaghetti straps.

“Here,” he said. He handed me the top and left the drawer open. “Put this on. And the boots.” I knew immediately what boots he meant – the high heeled, knee-high black leather boots.

“I usually wear this top with jeans,” I said. “And this skirt with a sweater or something. And the boots I only wear with long skirts.” I admit I kind of liked the thought of dressing sexy, but I was also a bit insecure about it. What if I didn’t look good?

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Just put it on and let me see how it looks.”

“But—,”

“Nikki, will you come on already? Just let me see.”

“Fine.” I closed myself into the closet, wiggled out of my clothes, and put on Tommy’s selections. I smiled to myself as I dressed – just as he knew I was secretly in love with him, I knew he secretly enjoyed talking me into doing things that made me nervous. I don’t think some of the sexual things we did would have been half as exciting to him if they’d been my idea.

When he heard me stumbling around trying to put on the boots standing up, he opened the door.

“Let me do it,” he said, kneeling in front of me. He zipped up my left boot and then helped me into my right boot and zipped that up too, while I put my hands on his shoulders to balance myself. “Now come out and turn around for me.”

I complied reluctantly, keeping my head down so my long dark hair hid my face while Tommy squinted at me critically.

“Nice,” he said, nodding thoughtfully, and smiled. “You look hot.”

I looked at myself in the mirror hanging on the inside of the closet door. I’d always liked the way that tank top showcased my modest breasts. But I thought the pairing of the skimpy top and the miniskirt showed too much of my cappuccino skin and combined with the high boots made me look more than a little slutty. “I don’t know….” I said.

“Come on, I’m telling you, you look hot. Look at that ass.” Tommy ran his hands down my back and cupped my round ass in his hands for a moment. “You can wear this stuff. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“But still, to go out like this?”

“Weren’t you just complaining about the clothes you have to wear to work? How boring they are? How you’re sick of being a prissy secretary?”

“Receptionist,” I corrected. “I mean, yes, but….”

“Well here’s your chance to do something different, so stop complaining. Put on some makeup or something and let’s go.”

I looked at Tommy and my insides contracted in that familiar exciting way. He wasn’t traditionally handsome, but I couldn’t help but admire him. He had a long face and a crooked nose that he’d once made disparaging remarks about, but I thought his nose made him look strong somehow. I’d say it gave him character, but people hate to hear that.

He was tall and powerfully broad-shouldered and whenever he picked me up or pulled me on top of him, or held me against a wall or a tree or a light pole, he made me feel small and delicate. He had light hair, but I’d always thought he had a dark-haired personality – independent, mysterious, and brooding – and it was his personality that made him so irresistibly sexy in my eyes. I was absolutely enthralled by him. Of course I was a lot younger and more impressionable then.

I wanted desperately to please Tommy, and irrationally I hoped that if I did what he wanted enough times, he would want me to be his girlfriend. So I listened to him yet again. I put on a little eyeliner, mascara, and lipstick and looked at myself in the full-length mirror again.

“I guess I don’t look so bad,” I conceded. I flipped my hair around and ran my hands over my hips, beginning to become more excited about wearing such a slutty outfit.

“Listen to me,” said Tommy, gripping my shoulders, shaking me a little. “You look great. Now come on, let’s go.”

Thirty minutes later, Tommy drove his motorcycle up onto the sidewalk in a run-down part of town. The nearest streetlight was either burned out or broken, and the shadows seemed menacing. Men, leaning in the doorways of shuttered stops in groups of two and three, flicked their eyes in our direction as I awkwardly tried to swing my leg over the seat to dismount without flashing my black thong at them.

Pulling the helmet off my head and shaking my hair out was usually one of my favorite parts of a motorcycle ride, but that night I felt self-conscious in front of so many hooded eyes. It was warm out, so I wasn’t wearing a jacket over my uncharacteristically skimpy outfit and I felt virtually naked. One of the men muttered, “Damn, girl,” just loud enough for me to hear as I followed Tommy past him. Wavering between pride and embarrassment, I pretended I didn’t hear him.

Tommy led the way up a flight of dark, steep, narrow steps. We ended up in a cavernous room lined with red vinyl booths on two sides, a bar along one wall, and a couple of battered game machines against the back wall where the bathrooms were. Six shabby pool tables seemed stranded in the middle of the vast floor. The room was lit only by the pool table lights, each advertising a different brand of cheap beer, and the neon beer signs lining the walls. There were two games of pool in progress and a couple of the booths were occupied, but the place was mostly empty. Some sort of pounding, bass-driven rock music partially drowned out the sound of pool balls knocking against each other.

“What do you think?” Tommy asked.

“It’s cool,” I said, trying for noncommittal, but my smile betrayed me and I knew he could tell I loved the place. The unapologetic seediness was exactly the opposite of the fancy law office I worked in, with its mahogany desks and pristine cream-colored carpet.

“You want a drink?”

I thought about it. Tommy didn’t drink. Out of courtesy I usually didn’t drink either when I was around him, but that night I decided that if I was going to live up to my outfit I might need a drink or two.

“Yeah, sure,” I said.

I trailed awkwardly after Tommy, clutching my helmet to my stomach with both arms. Tommy ordered a Long Island iced tea from the greasy-haired bartender who was sitting behind the bar. Like a lump on a log, my mother would have said. The bartender lumbered around and mixed my drink without expression. When he thumped the glass on the bar he looked me over in a way that made me feel like his pudgy hands had actually traveled up and down my body. I grabbed the drink and turned away while Tommy paid for it and changed a five-dollar bill for some quarters.

“Relax, it’s just a bar,” said Tommy, taking my arm and leading me toward the back of the room. “You’re the most uptight girl I know. Come on, let’s play some pinball.”

I loosened my hold on the helmet and sucked at the straw in my drink as Tommy propelled me across the room. “I’m not uptight,” I said, automatically, knowing full well that I was indeed uptight and that he liked it that way.

“Whatever,” he said. “How’s that drink?”

“It’s strong.”

“Good.”

Tommy played pinball for a while and I leaned against the wall, alternately watching him and gazing around the room. I put my helmet on the floor next to Tommy’s but I kept the straw from my drink clenched between my teeth, sucking at it like a confidence IV. Tommy played pinball violently, rocking the machine back and forth and shoving it so it bumped against the wall. I watched with half-lidded eyes as he slapped the sides of the machine in alternate triumph and fury, remembering the time he’d held me down and spanked me until I liked it.

I was working on my second drink when Tommy pulled me in front of the machine. “You’re going to play,” he said.

“I don’t want to,” I said, trying to squirm away.

“You’re playing,” he said firmly. “Jesus. It’s just pinball.” He took my drink away from me and placed it in an odd little alcove set into the wall. He started a new game and then stood behind me and placed my hands on the buttons that controlled the flippers. With his hands over mine Tommy played for me. Up until that moment I hadn’t known that there was strategy involved in pinball. Ordinarily I would simply have kept pounding away at the flippers with the sole intention of keeping the ball from slipping out of play. But Tommy controlled the flippers, catching the ball and waiting… waiting until just the right moment to send it hurtling up and around to just the right spot for maximum points.

Pinball. What an odd thing to be aroused by, I thought. But it wasn’t the game itself; it was the manifestation of Tommy’s control over the machine, and of me. His playing teased me. His arms were wrapped around me and his hands were over mine… just like the time he’d held his hand over mine and made me masturbate for him. My body softened somewhat.

“I just want to watch you,” I said when the game was finally over. I slipped my hands from under Tommy’s, ducked under his arm and grabbed my drink. The ice had melted somewhat and I quickly gulped down the rest of it.

“You want another one?” Tommy asked.

“Uh, sure.” I replied. “I’m just going to go to the bathroom.”

The bathroom wasn’t as bad as the seedy outer room had led me to believe it would be. When I was done using it, I stared into the mirror for a long time, examining my face. I decided I definitely liked my big brown eyes and my full lips. But was I “hot” like Tommy said? I stared at the contours of my cheekbones and jawline, the way my hair slid past my shoulders. Why was I so nervous about everything? Why was he with me? Would he eventually grow tired of my fears and insecurities? Would I grow out of them? And if I did, would he like me more or would he lose interest? Eventually I realized I’d probably been gone too long. I smiled at my reflection and resolved to be less uptight and hope for the best.

My smile faded when I pushed open the bathroom door and stepped out. Tommy was at the pinball machine again, talking to a curvaceous blonde girl wearing an outfit similar to mine. I knew Tommy didn’t like blondes. He preferred a little color – black, Latina, or Asian women… or mixed girls, like me. And he didn’t like big breasts; he liked small, perky breasts like mine. But still, a hot girl is a hot girl, and this girl was hot; her body oozed confidence and sensuality. And from her posture and expression, she was clearly flirting with him.

“…and I thought, if that’s how you play pinball, I can just imagine how you fuck,” she was saying as I walked up to them.

My eyes narrowed. I tried to play it cool but I failed. When I walked over and put my hand on Tommy’s arm in what I thought was a casual way, the blonde girl took one look at me and started laughing.

“Girl, calm down,” she said. “No one’s trying to steal your man. I’m just making conversation.” I gaped at her, thrown completely off guard. I noticed Tommy was holding a new drink, so I took it from him and took a sip, trying to look natural while I thought of a reply. But the blonde girl didn’t give me a chance. “In fact,” she said. “I actually came over here to ask him about you.”

“What?”

The girl laughed again. “My name is Kim,” she said. “What’s yours?”

I paused before I answered, “Nikki.”

“And your man? What’s your name, Nikki’s man?”

“Thomas,” said Tommy. I looked up at him. He was smirking.

“Listen, Nikki,” said Kim. “I think you’re hot. You don’t have to worry if someone talks to your man.” There was that word again. I wondered what was going on, if she was making fun of me. “I just wondered if you wanted to, you know, talk for a while.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know, talk. Just sit down for a while and get to know each other. It’s pretty dead in here tonight and meeting new people is always interesting.” Kim took the hand that wasn’t clutching my drink and started to pull me over to the corner banquette. I hesitated, but Tommy scooped up our helmets and started over there, so I followed. Kim let go of my hand and slid into the booth first, leaning against the table so she could see both of us. Tommy followed, and I sat next to him and turned my body toward Kim’s. I sucked at my straw.

“I’ve never seen you in here before,” Kim said. She was looking at me, but Tommy answered.

“Nikki wanted to do something different tonight,” he said. “She’s tired of being a good girl all the time.”

Kim laughed again. Kim laughed a lot, actually. “So she wanted to be bad tonight, did she?” She leaned forward, creating a generous peek at her full breasts. “Somehow I can’t imagine Nikki being bad. Or maybe I can. Anyway, I’d like to see it. Have you ever been with another woman, Nikki?”

“What? No.” I wondered what this girl was doing. Who was she? Was she actually hitting on me? Why? I tried not to look at her breasts, but they were impossible to ignore. They were just so… there. And so round and soft looking.

“Are you curious?”

“Ah…” I glanced up at Tommy. He was watching me intently. I remembered my promise to myself just a few minutes ago. I needed to relax more. Realizing my shoulders were practically up around my ears, I concentrated on lowering them.

“Sure,” I said. “Maybe.” The truth was, I was very curious. I took another huge gulp of my drink and found myself looking at Kim’s breasts again.

Kim reached out and put her hand on mine, where it lay on the table. “I noticed you as soon as you walked in,” she said. “You have a great body, but you looked so shy.”

The alcohol was making me dizzy. Or maybe it was Kim’s hand creeping up my arm as she leaned even closer to me across Tommy’s body. Then her hand was on my breast, softly. My heart jumped and I pulled back.

“You are shy,” she said. There was the laugh again. “Don’t be. Why are you pulling away?”

“I don’t… I mean, I can’t just –,” I looked up at Tommy, but he was no help. He was just watching us and grinning.

“You can’t what?” asked Kim. “Yes, you can. It’s so easy. I see you looking at my breasts. Do you want to touch them?”

I didn’t quite understand what was happening. I knew was in over my head and was about to stand up and tell Tommy I wanted to leave when I noticed his hand brushing Kim’s leg. My initial fury at the sight quickly gave way to fear. What if I said I wanted to leave and Tommy didn’t come with me?

“I think you do want to touch them,” Kim said. “Just go ahead.” Before I could even decide whether I was going to stay or go, she took my hand and placed it on her breast and held it there. I almost dropped my drink. Wow. Her breast was soft yet firm and the skin that was revealed was so incredibly smooth. I wondered if my own skin could possibly be that soft. She wasn’t wearing a bra and I could feel her nipple pressed against my palm through the thin material of her top. Slowly Kim let go of my hand. I didn’t pull away. I touched her gently and to my surprise I felt her nipple harden. I was entranced.

Kim took advantage of my momentary daze. She put her hand on my shoulder, drew me forward, and kissed me on the lips. I was so surprised by her action and by the unfamiliar texture of the kiss that it took a couple of seconds to register what was happening. When it hit me that this strange woman was kissing me I pulled away abruptly and snatched my hand back from her breast. I started to get up – this time I was really going to leave, whether Tommy left with me or not.

I looked at Tommy again. He was staring at Kim, mesmerized, looking at her in a way he’d never quite looked at me. I noticed his hand was now squeezing Kim’s thigh, sliding higher under her short skirt. There was an obvious bulge in the crotch of his jeans. I didn’t think he’d leave with me. No, I realized, of course he’d stay with the sexy, adventurous stranger rather than leave with the most uptight girl he knew. I hesitated. Alcohol, rampant jealousy, and the remembered heat of Kim’s lips on mine clouded my mind. My eyes flicked back to Kim’s breasts and over her thighs and back to Tommy’s erection. Suddenly I realized I was actually wet.

I put my drink on the table, wiped the cold condensation onto my skirt and licked my lips nervously. Kim smiled, and then she leaned forward and kissed me again. This time I kissed back. It was all softness. Her lips, her tongue, her hair brushing my cheek. It wasn’t just the lack of stubble on her face or the narrow jawline that made her kiss feel different from a man’s. There was a sharing feeling to her kiss, like she wasn’t trying to overpower me but simply to let her tongue dance with mine.

When Kim and I finally broke our kiss, I looked up at Tommy’s face again. This time he was looking at me the way he had looked at Kim earlier. He nodded approvingly and I was pleased with myself. His right hand was still on Kim’s thigh, and now his left hand began sliding up mine, leaving a trail of gooseflesh in its wake.

Kim began to touch my breasts, squeezing softly. She pinched my nipples. She ran her hands down to my waist and up to my neck and into my hair and pulled me closer to her across Tommy’s lap. I was trembling and my heart was pounding as she probed my soft wet mouth with my tongue.

My body was awake, alive, nerve endings crackling and zinging everywhere, but especially between my legs where my clitoris pulsed in time with my heartbeat. My hands went back to Kim’s breasts of their own accord. I had never touched another woman’s breasts before and Kim’s were a lot bigger than mine. They overflowed my hands when I cupped them and although they didn’t really sag, they were heavy in my hands. Her nipples were hard, jutting out against my palms, and I could feel that the pebbly texture of her areaole spread wider in diameter than mine.