A Pick-Up that Lined Up to a Hookup

"I said: 'It's really beautiful here.' I've never been to a place like this." she spoke while walking towards the wall of windows, looking around with the half an apple and drink in her hands.

She still had her nearly dirty white mini socks on, and the color of the dress really was hideous, but William, instead, was watching her body's penchant for long legs on a slim frame with the slightest hints of muscle definition; her breasts were almost big enough to bounce - but that would surely ripple - but still be accented by the dress. She looked like a runner despite the tale of her hideous training sneakers to 'match' her attire.

"You're boyfriend doesn't take you to nice places?" William, once again, asked the question in all seriousness.

Bridgette had been enjoying the drink, something spicy and sweet and cold to go with the eaten apple; she had been mid sip when she heard his words, almost cycling the contents of the glass through her nose to the recognition; she had to laugh: She snorted, coughed, quickly moved the drink from her face to hold it arm length out, and all without spilling a drop nor cycling it through her nose.

...and then she almost fell to the floor, landing crossed-legged and laughing aloud at the top of her lungs. The tears were falling from her face as her wrists came to rest upon her knees, drink still in hand. Her eyes witnessed only to the balcony railing and the city lights beyond - ground stars drowning out the real sky while she was looking through the glass.

Bridgette's dam had started to crack.

"I agree," was all he said in response, sitting next to her on the floor. William was in the exact same position, and was looking at the exact same thing. The two sat in contemplation and her sniffles without making the slightest motion to open the doors nearby and step outside on the brisk fall evening: The choir of the urban landscape would ruin her solo in the silence of the room.

Patch installed, and partial composure restored, the slightly hunched Bridgette took a deep cleansing breath, turning his way while she wiped the remnants of tears from her complexion with the left side of her right wrist.

He appeared on the outside as she felt inside; a sad look floated in his glorious eyes, and his skin color was slightly dark from sun. William, as well, looked as if he could cry. She interrupted his sip with her words, causing him to stop and stare at her with an arm up and glass to his lips. He was a lefty.

"So if you're from here, but you're not anymore, and you were somewhere else, but you're not now, what are you doing home?" Bridgette studied his reaction as his empty glass came down; the condensation on it matched the state of her mascara free lashes.

"I sort of had to take over the family business." He spoke with closed eyes; she thought about the words before she replied.

"What kind of business?" Bridgette asked, grinning. William couldn't help but enjoy her.

"You should smile more, even if you are sad. It's exquisite." A twinkle hit his eye as he spoke, internally glad that she remembered he didn't want to talk about it.

"Then keep going, Bill, just keep it up." Bridgette kept grinning, laying her left cheek on her left hand, propped up on her left knee with the left elbow; she was watching him on the perpendicular with an almost empty glass.

"Well, it's not really a business, more like a charitable tax foundation, so I don't get paid, really, not from the foundation anyway..." He set his glass off to his right, leaving his legs crossed but laying back on the marble to rest his head on his crossed arms and taking a quick peek of her hard curved buns on the floor. That dress, even if it was ugly, really did hug her form.

"So have you written anything I would have read?" She was just playing now, spinning on her butt to sit crossed legged and perpendicular to his body with her head still resting on her hand. His fitted shirt hugged his expanded chest and ribcage, and there was a slight bulge on the textured fabric of his crotch.

Her glass was empty, off next to his, and sitting with an apple core inside. William had not seen it happen. He was starting to turn Bridgette on; her body went ravenous for the sensation, trying to use it to destroy her thoughts.

"Do you read a lot of published archaeology papers?" He asked in all seriousness, jolting her insides in the best possible way with his smirk.

"Nop'e." Bridgette started to rub his upper body with her flattened right hand, unhurriedly moving from taut chest to leather belt and back again, head still in her hand.

"Then I wouldn't think so, it reads like stereo instructions anyhow. I get bored reading it." His joke that was not a joke set the inevitable in motion.

Bridgette removed her head from resting, slightly smiling and fully stretching her upper body on her crossed legs, arms up. William tilted his head to watch and follow as she came to rest upright on her knees, hovering above his belt buckle.

He didn't move a muscle; William only stared up into her eyes as she looked down at him. She slid her hands from her flowing, but wildly perm'd hair, down her neck and over her hard nipples to her sides; she finally set them to rest when wrapped on the hem of her dress with her fingers on her tight thighs.

"You've never done anything like this before, have you?" William had not moved short of his growing to full-on erection.

"Nop'e." she dripped with her lips smacking. Bridgette swiveled her hips in the air, allowing William to see - but only for a moment - a flash of the slightest wisp of her pubic hair; full and trimmed; dark and curly; darker than the locks on her head.

"Me neither..." he whispered with a softly taken aback face.

"It's making me feel sexy.. I want to feel so sexy..."

"You are sexy..." William was looking her in the eye. "I even like your dress," he spoke in all seriousness, followed by a nod and a smile, "..wrinkled and all.".

Bridgette, with fury, suddenly dove. She was hawk hunting at twice the speed and deftly touching her palms to the marble floor in the equilaterals of his flexed arms. She stopped a mere distance from his face with her own, almost touching noses; her green eyes transformed to the darkest jade.

William did not flinch at the false strike of her talons in spite of the ferocity, proximity, and velocity.

"I told you I didn't want to talk about it." When Bridgette's stern whispered words finished, the pair began a long inhale in unison, both excited from the tingles. She hit her limit of ozone before he did, slowly moving in to kiss his lips and catching him by surprise.

His hands - fast ones - hit on both of her thighs in tune with her lips, and just above the knee, sliding upwards on landing. When he hit the hem of the cotton dress, he tugged it up a short length before letting go - still sliding his hands along.

William uncrossed his legs when fingers stopped on the sides of her breasts; Bridgette dropped her crotch to his lap when he raised his knees and used his thumbs to pull her dress to the sides, exposing her nudity.

She broke the kiss, pulling back slightly, grinding less so and bringing his hands along while he tickled her nipples with his thumbs. Her eyes caught on his deft tongue: It caressed his own lips, tasting the flavor her mouth on his.

Bridgette sat up against his upright knees; she quickly twisted her hands between his arms and tore his shirt open - buttons flying - to stare upon what turned out to be a lickable body. Her hands, after a quick compulsive grope, batted his fingers away from her sensitive nipples on her way to reach for her dress hem.

She arched her back as the eyeburning dress went over her head, somehow in time with his mouth kissing her own at the moment it was exposed - William was moving to his knees.

With her eyes still covered and her arms partially bound by the widened fabric, he grasp her wrists together with a hand above her head, combining their skin together using the other hand with pressure on the small of her back.

This kiss brought outstretched tongues and grins.

With even faster hands than before, he released her arms and pulled off the dress for her with lightning skill. Equally as smoothly, William tucked one hand under each of her arms, resting his fingers between her ribs and his thumbs in the nook under her sensitive mounds - slowly lifting her breasts.

Her newly freed hands flew between his arms and to his belt clasp, cutely struggling mid kiss before getting it undone; she had to take a quick glance to figure it out.

While his pants and boxers fell, she broke his hands and lips away yet again, pulling his shirt of his shoulders while slamming into his body with her own. It took both of her hands to lock his arms in his shirt behind his back; William struggled just enough to make it interesting as they lowered themselves to the glossy surface.

She slid her hands to his abdomen, trapping his member upright between their bodies and soaking his shaft with her fluids. She pushed herself away to take in his eyes watching her smooth body.

"I just want to/you be/inside inside/me you/. ." They said in unison, his hands resting on her hips with his back against the cool floor.

Bridgette obliged; she raised her hips up, pushing against his body and aligning the head of his cock. She circled the tip against her clit a single time before sinking it in. Her hand stayed in place, wrapped tightly around his shaft, until she bumped her soldier with her own knuckle, at which point she let go and started to roll her hips up.

His hands clamped her sides when he almost slid fully out of her insanely tight passage. She, in turn, stopped and reversed, sliding down his manhood, circling all the way to the hilt as she wrapped her hands under his shoulders and her calves to his thighs; she ran her tongue up his chest and to his lips as she glided along his body to do so.

His hands gripped the hard globes of her posterior, squeezing with all his might as she did the same with all parts of her body; the pair slowly bumped into the shining marble and were breathing the same air.

After nearly a minute, Bridgette tore her face away, threw her upper body into the air, clamped her calves to his thighs with tucked toes, and pushed her fingers along her head into her own hair to hold it high.

"ohfuckyes," she cried out when his hands gripped her breast and twisted the buds in unison. By the fourth time he repeated the action, she began to shiver, quickly dropping her hands to his abs and hunching her back.

She was in orgasm, silent, eyes closed, holding onto the sensation for all it was worth as he gripped both of her wrists with strength; he was staving off his own from the moment her velvet clamped down - far harder than he had ever felt before.

Her face twisted to match his; her hips began to move involuntarily in tiny forceful motions; she soon shown gritted teeth as she clawed at his stomach.

They screamed at the same time. Bridgette's second of her twin orgasms hit when she felt his first gush, though this time her hips went wild: swirling, pushing, and milking splash after splash.

"holy fuck, Bridgette.." he said with a whimper as she finally came down onto his chest. She still randomly plied their hips, causing William to twitch and stay erect; he even let out a squeak. That particular noise is what started the excessive laughter of relief, her body lifting with the movement of his upper frame in humor.

With the amount of wiggling between the two lovers, they were still essentially in intercourse.

"I'm tired," Bridgette said as she flexed her inner muscles against his rod, closing her eyes. It was only 9:00 PM

"Me too," he said, thrusting up his hips and forcing her to bite her lip softly. "Want to grab a shower? It has at least five shower heads."

The thought popped her head up, followed by her body. She grabbed her dress, quickly tying the fabric around her mass of puffy hair like a bandana.

"Which way is the bathroom?" She was sexily grinning and pointing left with her right and right with her left; she was still riding his member.

When he nodded to the left she finally slid him free, releasing her grip. His manhood slapped wetly against his stomach as she stood, walking towards the bathroom with his eyes on her shape and socks, but she stopped halfway.

"Are you coming?" she turned and asked.

"Almost," he whispered, nodding.

"Great, just don't get my hair wet," she held up a warning finger. "It's the last good thing I have left." She continued her travel, this time skipping across the polished surface towards the bathroom.

She heard "I think you have plenty of good things" over her shoulder as she entered.

The shower was steaming by the time he followed her excitement. When William stepped into the glass enclosure, he saw Bridgette with her hands high against the tile wall - above her head - and her feet spread wide. Scalding water sprayed and dripped off of every curve from her neck down, and her head was turned to watch him enter.

She swung her rear on a circle as he closed the shower door.

William walked up behind her, gripped both of her slick hips, and entered her in a single sly motion. As strong as her muscles were clamped, her ass still rippled with his repeated steady impacts, with each loving every wave. Their mixing fluids were more than enough to compensate for the rinsing water.

With one hand still on her hip when he finished her reposition, William spun Bridgette around within the shower; he was holding her and one of her legs up as he finessed his way back into her hot body; with each forceful push, he slid her back up and down the wet walls in the corner of the shower.

It was not long until he held her up by palming a cheek in each hand.

Bridgette locked her fingers behind his neck, rubbing her wet nipples between his own while she teased his tongue from a downward angle. The leg he had been holding up was now wrapped around his body of it's own accord, and the painted toes of her other foot were just touching the textured surface of the shower floor.

"Thank you," she whispered into his ear, cupping his face with a hand. She followed her words with shivers in another silent orgasm, and by wrapping both of her legs around his body. William, following in time, held her weight with ease; his orgasmic fluids were pushing deep against the full weight of her lithe body, bursting through her tension in fiery waves and making the shower seem cold.

Bridgette was the first to grab a bar of soap nearly ten minutes - or two kisses - later.

***

"It's good to see you well, William, sir. I am pleased that you arrived safely." Terrance, always the formal one, was overly happy to see William, even at a time like this. It had been nearly ten years, and he had grown into a man.

"Thanks, Terrance. It's good to see you as well. How are you doing?" William had spotted Terrance and not the other way around; William's full beard and sun-streaked overgrown hair hid his features well, though not by intention.

A plane roaring overhead almost drown out the words: "As well as can be, considering the circumstances, Doctor Walther." Terrance had a snide grin hidden beneath his formality, his way of saying he was proud as he set William's bags into the trunk of the long black limousine. This was his first chance to use the title.

"Yeah, I hear you." William seemed depressed as he responded to his insanely overpaid employee, and lifelong friend.

"Home, sir?" Terrance asked as he moved to open the door for William, another plane booming overhead.

"No... No... Take me to a hotel. I can't go there yet.. Not yet." William shook his head. "Hotel first, let me get cleaned up, and then we'll go to the cemetery." William's face would have looked drawn had the overgrowth not existed; he'd been awake for eighteen hours and three connecting flights.

"Very good, sir. Shall I call a tailor on the way?" Terrance asked, holding the car door open and holding out a medium sized leather bound book embroidered with a large 'WPW II" on the front. It had belonged to William's father.

A tear ran from the corner of William's eye as he took the book and stepped into his chariot. "Yes, please, Terrance, something fashionable. You know what I like."

"I do, sir. Very good," and Terrance closed the door, taking his own seat up front to drive to William Senior's favorite spot to take his wife, Mrs. Walther, on their weekend trips in the city.

William flipped through his father's journal, the one in which he wrote the questions he would ask his son on the days he arrived home. The first question on the last list in the back, the only unanswered list, was simply: "Has he met a woman he can share his life with?"

Next thing he saw, in the margin, was the phrase: "Tell William, Jr. that you love him." It was written in the rolling splotchy ink of his father's favorite desk pen.

He hit the call button in the back, setting Terrance to roll down the separating tinted window. "Yes, sir?" Terrance asked without taking his eyes off of the road.

"I've been gone a while, can you find out what the busiest club in the city is? I want to get drunk after I say goodbye to my father. Someplace with a 'happy hour'."

"Not a problem, sir, but do try and prevent being photographed. The board would not appreciate such things in the papers." Terrance had the snide grin again.

"Yeah, yeah, 'face of the foundation' and blah, blah, blah. Don't worry Terrance, I'll make him proud." William looked at the eyes of his friend in the rear view mirror.

"I have no doubt of that, sir. No doubt whatsoever." Terrance spoke as he rolled up the glass and turned up the music of Nicos Tseperis that played on the clarity filled stereo.

***

Bed was not a good enough way to say it. Instead, Bridgette sat upon a towel on the oversized, overly soft, room filling nimbus, rubbing expensive lotion into all parts of her skin. One of the smaller hotel towels was being used for her new bandana; her hair still spilled out of the back in wild permmy fashion. Two hotel robes were set out on the foot of the cloud, and half a room away.

William lay with his hands on his chest, still naked short of a towel on his waist, with his damp - and self cut - hair on one of many pillows. "So I've been meaning to ask you," he spoke as she moved to cuddle at his side in the barely lit room, kicking the towel she was sitting on to the floor before she went naked.

"What's that?" Bridgette inquired, sharing the pillow he used, whispering in his ear and snuggling into his body.

"If you didn't want to talk to anyone, why did you wear a bright yellow dress and orange sneakers?" He questioned with all seriousness and confusion.

Bridgette was silent at first; then slowly, ever so slowly, she began to laugh, louder and louder in progression. When William turned to feed his vision with her action, he saw that she was crying.

Her dam had burst.

***

The sun streaming into her apartment windows warmed her skin over and above the sex from her dream with the basketball player. Bridgette slowly stretched her arms over her head, letting out a squeak, naked, and half under her blankets.

Something in her head was telling her the sun was an important thing. Her eyes snapped open with a fright as she jumped up onto the tangled blankets and stared at the numberless digital clock next to her bed.

"NOOO!" She dove to her end table, grabbing her mother's watch - her only heirloom jewelry. It was 10:30 AM, she was four hours late. She still had to catch a train.

"No!" She ran to her dresser, throwing on her orange scrub shirt and black scrub pants. "Not this month.." she groaned aloud as she snagged some rolled socks and leapt for the closet. Bridgette threw on her orange sneakers, fall colors to match the scrubs, and then angled for the shoebox at the top corner of the closet.