Addicted Ch. 05

Exactly 24 hours after the coffee date, Lizzy and I met in a martini bar.

Sounds simple, doesn't it? It wasn't. I was totally spinning out over this girl.

I ordered first: "Vodka martini. Shaken, not stirred."

"Of course, Mr. Bond," as the waitress rolled her eyes. "And for you, Vesper?"

Lizzy squinted at me, thinking a moment. "Vodka, huh? Okay... French martini for me."

"Of course," the waitress nodded while wagging a finger towards me. "You be careful of this guy."

Liz smirked and looked down. "Oh, yeah... he's definitely dangerous."

I straightened up and put on my best Bond suave as the waitress faded away. "Why, ma'am, I'm not dangerous at all!"

My would-be girlfriend gave a patented McKayla Maroney not-impressed face -- which looked exceptional on those cutesy cheeks. "...And you lie convincingly."

"I..." had no defense.

Look, I really was spinning out over this girl.

Elizabeth didn't have the look I typically went for, at least not past a random hook-up. What was my favorite look? Cheekbones. I liked the long-hair, high-speed, size-2 glam girls who liked showing off. I liked that they were usually sex objects... and I liked that I could flip that story. I liked when those girls chased me. Not gonna lie, that was a benefit of being a gym rat.

Fucking Lizzy didn't fit the mold. High-speed bod, sure, but too cutesy. Almost plain... and that wasn't up to fucking par. Too sensible to always be the girly-girl, but... she did chase me. Sorta. As a means to an end.

She'd given me head first in an Uber. Then at my apartment. Then last night, showing no fear as she went down on me in the parking structure of a Starbucks. I never really thought of myself as an exhibitionist, but with her? Fuck, we were going to get arrested.

At least we were safe in the bar. Right? Weren't we...?

Small talk for the first half hour, but it had the kind of normalcy that one didn't get on wham-bam hookups. We talked about TV shows. We dared politics -- and survived!

She gave me that toothy, chipmunk-cheeked, bee-stung-lip grin and Christ, she was cute. "Can I do an Instagram with us?"

"A couple's pic?"

She nodded, hopeful.

"Sure."

It took her a minute to find the right background, the right lighting, the right angle...then a dozen different shots, a little tweaking on the filters...

"Do I need that much work?"

"Hush, you," she giggled. "Almost there."

She handed me her phone and I scrolled through the three pictures that survived. "Holy shit, chica. These look like advertising shots!"

"Thanks! I'm kind of an amateur photographer."

"Amateur pornographer?"

She punched my shoulder. "Amateur model, maybe. Does that count?"

"Sorry, no." I scrolled through one more time before handing her phone back. "Those are really good. You've already got two likes."

She glanced at the screen. "Oh, them. They don't count."

"No?"

"That's Chloe and Claire. My besties. You sorta met them."

"I did?"

"Umm... that first night? Those were the girls I was there with."

Right; the married girls. Skirts and sheer shirts, tall with cheekbones. The opposites of sporty-girl, here. The ones I was about to hit on when chipmunk cheeks distracted me. "How could I forget?"

We burned through three drinks and I learned her secret goal was to be an artist. That was just the inspiration I was looking for. Checked my watch, canceled the fourth round, closed out the tab and hustled us to an Uber.

A ten minute ride dropped us at the Norton Simon Museum in Pasadena. We were just inside when I noticed she was all misty-eyed.

"What? You okay?"

"I've never had a guy take me to an art museum!"

"You've never dated the right guy. Let's go!"

I knew nothing about art, absolutely zero, but she was my instant guide to the highlights. We landed at the "Allegory of Virtue and Nobility" and she was leaning in.

I studied her as she studied it. "What do you see?"

"Shadow work. Skin tones. A million grays in the clouds," she pointed. After a pause. "Mostly, though, I see them casting out 'ignorance' and it feels... oddly personal. Not like I'm super ignorant, but if she's virtue, than what's the girl in blue...? She's Not-Virtue, falling from heaven."

"I'll catch you."

Three martinis of courage: she took my face in her hands and kissed me. It wasn't long, but it was deep.

We stopped in front of "Krishna Fluting in Vrindavan." I'd been to India, briefly, on leave. That hinted at Afghanistan but I steered us away from that topic.

Then there was "Woman with a Book." An actual Picasso was cool, and so was the fact that she was reading with her boobs out. We both appreciated that one.

We got to "Reclining Nude" and she held her hands out: "Finally, a girl who has smaller boobs than me!"

Facepalm...

By the time we got to "The Conversion of Mary Magdalene," the martinis had taken control. She tapped a finger on that lip. "This is speaking to me on a couple of levels."

"Oh, how?"

She educated me on contrasts, about the light and the shadows. There was sensuality in the body position of Mary. Then there was a pause...

I wrapped my arms around her. "You're thinking of something else."

She nodded. "I've tried to be good. I've never been able to be good."

"Tried to be? Oh, that's right: only slept with boyfriends?"

"Or ex-boyfriends," she nodded.

"How many guys has my slutty girlfriend slept with before me?"

She thought about it and smiled. "I like hearing you say that."

"Girlfriend?"

She nodded.

I pointed at the picture. "Well... If you're Mary Magdalene, I'm not exactly the angel, so..."

"You little devil!" She giggled. A beat later, she turned in my arms to drill eye contact right into my soul. "Since you already know I'm a little slutty, do you want the real answer?"

"That would be cool."

"32."

"Is that a lot?"

She bit her lip and turned back toward the painting. "Umm... I don't know? More than some, less than a few."

"I can go with that."

She studied the "Vice" character and kept glancing back and forth between me and the painting.

I finally got the comparison she was making. "Nice."

She giggled. "Were you expecting more or less?"

"Guys? I don't know. More, maybe? Then again, how do you define 'boyfriend'?"

"Third date."

"That's it? You have a low bar for boyfriends." I gave my Lizzy Magdalene a deep kiss. "They should at least take you to an art gallery..."

#

Head in the Uber: a sequel.

We were leaving the Norton Simon, on our way to Castaways for dinner, when she kissed her way down my neck. She kissed down my chest and right into my lap.

Of course the driver was watching the whole time.

I wasn't sure why, exactly, but she loved giving head where she could be seen. Between the first time (in an Uber), last night in the parking lot, and now? The more she gave me, the more I wanted it.

From her.

...In public.

The driver gave her an ovation when she swallowed.

She blew him a kiss as we climbed out at the restaurant's valet stop.

#

Lobster and drinks on the back patio, overlooking the twinkling lights of Burbank and Los Angeles beyond. Lots of hand-holding.

She was growing on me. Really, really growing on me.

This led to another instagram on the patio. Yeah, there was work involved, but I had to admit she was good. Even in selfie mode: up on the hill, with the city below us in the background, the shots were fantastically romantic.

A few more appletinis washed away any trace of the cum she'd swallowed, and there was kissing in the Uber on the way back to my place. Those lips were amazing all over again, even if it was just smooching this time.

We left a trail across my apartment: my shoes, her heels. Her little black dress, my shirt. My pants, her panties.

We rolled from one side of the bed to the other, making out. Again: boobs. I'd like more, but feeling her whole body against mine? Head was great, but body-to-body was transcendent.

I kissed my way down her neck, lavishing attention on the boobs. Her nipples were diamond-hard. Down her abs, her sexy little belly, and between her thighs. A little landing strip and the rest of her was shaved.

And wet. Dripping-honey wet.

A swirl around her clit and her back arched. A suck, and a swirl and two flicks, and... she was coming hard. Some deep licks and her lips were separating. Yeah, her pussy was asking for me.

I climbed up, my hard dick sticking out, and she guided me to her.

Right on the edge, she looked up at me. Again, not sure how, but she had suddenly giant brown eyes.

I looked down at her -- and slowly eased my dick inside.

Her eyes went wide, then closed a moment later. Her breath caught.

I whispered in her ear. "You feel amazing."

"Thanks!" she squeaked.

She was biting her lip as she wrapped her firm legs around my waist. She was pulling me closer, locking me in, and I was bottoming out inside her.

Thrusting, I found a rhythm and she was in it with me.

"You don't feel amazing..." I corrected myself. "You ARE amazing."

She half-giggled through ragged breathing. "I'm easy."

"You're easily amazing."

She pulled me tight, like she never wanted to let go, and that pulled the orgasm out of me. Suddenly, I was coming deep inside her.

Shit. No condom.

Somehow, that made it hotter. I needed to give her everything I had.

Her breath caught and her whole body tensed. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her face was beet red.

I finished, pumping the last of myself into her, and held my dick deep inside her.

She wasn't letting go.

"Oh, my god," she mumbled.

"What?"

"You're huge."

Okay, not gonna lie: that was an ego boost. "Biggest?"

She bit her lip and looked up at me -- then shook her head. "Top five, though."

I started chuckling. Somehow, that this cutie was that big a slut got me hard again. I have met my match...

#

It was kind of a whirlwind after that.

Morning sex. Breakfast. Late-morning head.

"On that note..."

She wiped the cum from her mouth and reached for her phone. "Did you want to drive me home or should I call an Uber?"

"Somehow, I'm not sure how, having you give me head, then having you take an Uber home would be oddly erotic."

"That's actually kinda what I thought..." She nodded.

"Be gone, slut. I'm done with you for today."

"Okay!" She cheerfully gathered her clothes.

"Jesus, no!" I grabbed my keys. "You do wonders for a guy's ego, but... I'd rather drive you home."

"Goody! That's even better!"

#

I drove a convertible and Lizzy loved having the wind in her hair.

...When we finally got going that fast.

I'd been driving a surplus Humvee since I got out. Once I was in college, I'd painted flowers and peace signs all over it, including over the "USMC" on the tailgate (sorry Devil Dogs). There was enough olive drab and service registration numbers left to know it was the real deal.

I changed out the seats to something more humane, put in an all-weather stereo and presto: I had a ride to match my personality.

You know what else? My cutesy girl looked natural in the passenger seat.

#

The next Wednesday, we met for lunch at a Jamba Juice.

Neither of us had long, but it was nice to touch base. See her. See her smile. Hear her laugh.

...Get head in a convertible, with the top down, in a crowded parking lot...

Holy shit.

It wasn't a date, per se. Maybe, sorta, but not really. It was that both of us just needed my cum on her face. Hence a phone call and a hump-day hookup.

This was all her, giving lip service with the risk of an audience. I did absolutely nothing to contribute toward an equal-rights orgasm. It seemed like doing so would've been a distraction.

For four quick minutes, that bee-stung lip gave a warm hug to my shaft. Her hand cradling my balls, I didn't have to say a word: she felt when I getting close.

She popped her lips off and stroked me across her nose until I popped off. One pulse, then another and another, the artist used my dick like a paintbrush across her face.

"That was amazing! Thank you!"

With my cum dripping off her cheeks, she was all giggles and glowy smiles. "No, trust me: it was my pleasure..."

I realized, in that way-too-exposed moment, that this wasn't about spoiling me. No, she really was indulging herself.

I think I was starting to get it: this girl had an addiction... and I was her latest enabler.

Fuck, yeah. This was going to be good.