Bluff Ch. 03

"You think she's here?" Simon leaned in close and spoke too loudly in his ear, over-compensating for the volume of the music.

Alex sat on a small folding chair – his ass damn near falling asleep – and took a swig off his beer. "I wouldn't know, would I?" he groused.

Overeager and anticipating the opportunity to see his mystery woman again, Alex had insisted on arriving at Suzie Quinn's Halloween party early. Three miserable hours later and he was beginning to doubt the wisdom of showing up at all. He had absolutely no good reason to believe that she would be here tonight other than the fact that Suzie and Andrew were friends and kept much of the same company.

He had kept his erotic little secret to himself after Andrew's party, not telling anyone about the woman who had led him into a closet and jerked him off but refused to tell him anything about herself, including her name. Then she turned up at the mall, pulling him down a service corridor and giving him head then and there. After that, Alex revealed everything to his brother, Danny, and best friend, Simon, and they began a mission that rivaled covert military operations to find out who this woman was. Nothing had come of their efforts yet, but if she'd been at Andrew's party six weeks ago, somebody had to know her, must have invited her. And perhaps she'd been invited again tonight. Maybe.

But now, it was already past midnight and all Alex had to show for his efforts was a stupid, borrowed pirate costume that reeked of Simon's Drakaar Noir and an aching bladder from too much beer.

"Hey, don't bitch at me, mate," Simon said amicably, a slight lilt in his British accent. "I've done my share to find this bird for you."

"Yeah, I know. I'm sorry, man. I'm just getting annoyed."

"Course you are. You got your willy all in a twist, thinking she was going to pull you into some dark corner again. Blue balls'll make any man snap at his best mate. Believe me, I'm looking to relieve some of my own pressure tonight."

"What happened to Celia?"

Simon made a dismissive noise, "Stuck up bitch."

Alex smiled, remembering that he hadn't liked Simon's latest girl when he'd met her at Andrew's party. "I could've told you that."

"So why didn't you?"

"You've got to call me more often."

"What?" Simon dug the plastic elbow pad of his Darth Vader costume into Alex's arm. "And interrupt your busy schedule of getting blow jobs in shopping mall toilets?"

Alex breathed a laugh. "It wasn't in the toilets."

"Whatever, mate."

"Well, speaking of toilets." Alex stood up and snapped his cane out straight. "With any luck, I shall return much later, a much happier man."

"May the force be with you, young padawan."

A slight sense of déjà vu overcame him as he made his way around the corner to the bathroom. He kept expecting to feel her hand on his arm, smell that perfume he'd never smelled on anyone else, but the hallway in Suzie's house was not as secluded as Andrew's. There were too many people around. He hated having to work his way through crowds, especially when house parties started to pick up and drunks were weaving and staggering in his way. It added a fresh dimension of challenge to navigating unfamiliar areas. He breathed a sigh of relief as he closed the door, dampening the volume of the music.

When he stepped back out, Alex was immediately swept up in the movement of bodies around him, carried in the opposite direction he wanted to go, closer to the dining room. Somebody slipped an arm around his waist and said "hi" in his ear.

"Hello," he grinned. Having never heard her speak above a whisper, he could not be sure this was the woman he'd been waiting for but his hopes were high and the odds were looking good, all things considered.

The stench of beer plumed out like a cloud of car exhaust as she leaned heavily against him and slurred, "I don't get your costume."

As a joke, he'd worn a patch over each eye.

"I'm a pirate," he said. "And I'm blind." This wasn't quite the level of repartee he was used to from her, but then, she'd never been this drunk before.

"But how can you see like that?"

"I can't." He held up his cane. "I'm blind." Definitely not her.

"So, your costume..." she hesitated.

"I'm blind," he said slowly.

"Like, for real blind? Not a costume, blind?"

"For real blind."

"Oh."

Alex smiled thinly and pressed forward, letting the crowd take him from her grip. She did not try to stop him. He turned to orient himself back toward the safety of boredom in the living room but, again, the crush of people forced him around, into the dining room. Something was drawing them here in greater numbers. He steadied his feet as best he could and listened for clues, though he had a bad feeling he already knew what was happening.

Above the din of music and conversation, the voices of three men were growing increasingly heated. Though he couldn't make out exactly what was being said, there was no doubt this was an alcohol-fueled confrontation.

Alex took a step back from the raised voices, trying to feel behind him for a wall, table, anything to anchor himself to, but there was only a moving wall of bodies. The cacophony was unmistakably building to a fight. Instead of trying to placate the combatants, people around were egging them on. This would turn physical very soon and it was no place for him to be standing around.

He reached out to his left, hoping to find the wall that led him down this corridor, but the surge of bodies and the sound of fists connecting had already started. He was swept in the sudden crush of people acting as one animal, being pulled closer to the fight instead of away from it.

Trying to push against the wave would have been difficult enough, but pressed in like this, his cane was useless and he stumbled and rocked on his feet. It was not often that panic hit him but he was well aware that if he fell there would be little chance of getting back up unharmed.

"Let me out of here," he said, hoping someone would hear over the noise and pay attention. "I'm blind, I need to get out of this room."

If he was gone too long, Simon might come looking – except Simon would probably take a prolonged absence to mean that Alex's mystery woman had shown up. His only hope, it seemed, would be that Simon would be drawn to the commotion and see him there.

Alex tried pushing forward again and succeeded in advancing a step, but the sounds of the fight behind him were surging in his direction. An arm hooked around his waist and pulled him hard to the left. Judging by the size of the body beside him, and the ease with which they broke through the crowd, he assumed the fight had attracted Simon after all, who now put his years of experience as captain of the football team to practical use.

The air was breathable again, the heaviness of the tightly packed crowd alleviated.

"Thanks, man," Alex gasped, his heart beginning to slow.

"No problem." The voice was deep and unfamiliar, not Simon at all.

The man gave him a final guiding shove out of the way of the action in the other room, which was, by the sounds of it, still picking up steam.

"I really appreciate it."

But there was no answer. Clearly, his Good Samaritan found the fight in the next room more interesting than expressions of gratitude.

Now that he could extend his cane, Alex tried to get his bearings. He was in a different room. There was some furniture – a chair and dresser – against one wall. The sounds of the confrontation quieted, became muffled, and a soft metallic snapping told him the door had been closed behind him.

"Hello?" He dared not hope.

Footsteps circled around the far end of the room.

"I love your costume," she whispered. That voice seemed to have a direct line from his ears to his cock. Plugging in, a sound like cinnamon and rum, a synesthete's wet dream, wrapping around him in tangible colors and stroking him hard. "Brings new meaning to the term deadlights."

"Deadlights?"

"That was pirate jargon for eyes. 'Turn yer deadlights starboard, men, sail ho and a dose o' grog' or some such shit."

He smiled. Yeah, this was what he'd been expecting from her.

"Hello, Jane."

"I told you, I'm not Jane." Her feet swished along the carpet, the smell of her perfume drawing closer.

"I know. But I have to call you something. And as you said yourself, Jane holds as much relevance—"

She cut him off with a kiss, a trick she seemed adept at, her tongue plunging into his mouth to steal his words away. He dropped his cane to the floor and slid his arms around her waist.

She broke the kiss and pulled away from him, "Wait."

"What are you doing?"

"Locking the door."

He stood there, listening to her move around the room. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me your name tonight either, huh?"

"No, but I took off my mask for you."

"Well that's very fair."

"Magnanimous, I think."

He laughed as she led him to the bed, pushing him down by the shoulders. Alex shifted to lay his head on the pillow as she crawled on top of him, straddling his hips and plucking the eye patches from his head. He tasted liquor, something sweet, maybe strawberries and rum – had she been drinking daiquiris? – on her tongue as her hands worked their way down his chest, unbuttoning the silky ruffled pirate shirt. She kissed his cheek and earlobe.

"Door is locked?" he asked, even though he had heard the lock click into place before she brought him to the bed.

She mumbled an indistinct prolonged em-sound, which he took as affirmation, against his neck, her lips heating his skin. This was the first time he felt the safety of a private setting, had the assurance of a locked door between them and the rest of the world. It was the first time he did not have to worry about exposure or being walked in on. A brief coil of nerves wound in his stomach and he let out a long shaky breath.

"Why so nervous?" she asked.

"I'm not sure."

She didn't respond for a moment, quietly shifted her weight on his hips, leaned down and kissed his cheek gently. "Do you want to just," she paused slightly, "go back to the party?"

"No!" He was surprised by the offer. "No, no." He reached up and found her face, sweeping his thumbs slowly across her cheeks as he pulled her down for a kiss. "There's nowhere I'd rather be," he muttered against her mouth.

She shifted her weight again, rubbing against him. The warm teasing pressure against his crotch, an intimate mimicry. She sat up straight and pushed his shirt open, stroking his skin, combing gently through the hair covering his chest. Her left hand was decidedly colder than the other, probably from carrying a slushy daiquiri around, and his right nipple puckered a little more under the added chill as her fingertips circled and flicked.

He pushed his hips upwards against her, deciding if not now, then when? He stroked her neck, and hooked his fingers under the neckline of her costume, tugging gently, trying to discover if it had buttons or a zipper somewhere but it seemed to be one continuous drape of fabric.

"Hang on," she whispered, leaning back and pulling the costume over her head, a whispering flutter as it fell to the ground beside the bed.

Alex slowly explored her arms, expecting to encounter material from a shirt or something, but his fingertips crested her bare shoulders feeling nothing but the soft brush of her hair, and slid forward until they found her bra strap. His cock twitched reflexively. He traced the scalloped edging of the bra, hands mapping the arc of her breasts, his thumbs easing forward to feel her hardened nipples under the material, not the cheap-lace scratchiness he was expecting – not that he was an expert about lingerie, his field of experience limited as it was, but she wore the good stuff, apparently.

She moaned softly, leaning down to kiss him again. Her bra brushed against his chest, the delicate whorls grazing his own excited nerve endings deliciously. He traced the contours of her waist around to her back, letting his hands dip lower as they kissed, discovering she hadn't worn any pants under her costume either as his fingers found the matching lace waistline of her panties. Good god, she was straddling him on this bed, in nothing but her underwear. A sudden charge jolted his cock and his hips jerked up again.

She moaned into his mouth, still grinding slowly against him. He reached up and pushed the straps of her bra down her shoulders, suddenly insatiable for the feel of her skin. His hands searched her back, trying to find the hook to her bra and pulling frantically at it.

"Whoa there, tiger," she admonished, sitting up straight. "Just take a breath. I'm all for enthusiasm, but this lingerie ain't cheap."

"Sorry," he ran his fingers through his hair. "Sorry. I'm just—"

"Yeah, me too," she sounded breathless. "It's okay."

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's fine."

"No," he laughed, running his hand gently, slowly, across her naked thigh. "You're all excited too?"

"Alex," she scoffed, leaning down to kiss him again. "For such a smart guy, you can be a little dense at times."

"You're not the first person to say that."

"Think about it, man. I'm the one who keeps coming after you."

"But you also won't tell me your name. So what am I to—"

She cut him off by grabbing his wrists and placing his hands over her now-exposed breasts. He took a sharp breath. Gently, no longer just wanting to be cool for her but feeling the need to relish this moment, to burn the details of her body into his memory, he traced his fingers along the swell of her chest. His thumbs flicked back and forth, making her nipples stand out even higher. She moaned and arched her back, her weight shifted backwards, pressing harder onto his cock and her breasts thrust forward against his hands.

Many years had passed since Alex and Danny had snuck into their father's bedroom, wild-eyed and slightly feverish, slowly turning the pages of his old skin mags in reverential silence. Though Alex had never actually seen the bodies of any of the women he'd dated, the images from those long-ago days followed him past blindness and served him well into puberty and beyond. It was a passing curiosity for him, to wonder what she looked like there above him, topless; the hue of her nipples or size of her areolas were blanks for his imagination to fill in, as much a mystery as the shape of her eyes or the color of her hair.

He cupped her tits and sat up, savoring the weight of them in his hands before leaning forward to swipe his tongue across her nipples, the smell of her perfume heavy in his nostrils. Her moans got louder, her hands darting to clutch at his shoulders. He licked and sucked one breast, then moved to swirl his tongue teasingly around the other nipple, feeling the firmness of it move under his tongue as he flicked it back and forth. Her hips bucked against his, an intense heat building between them.

With one hand anchored in the small of her back, he felt the twisting gyrations of her hips, echoed against his throbbing crotch as she pressed into him. His tongue toyed with her nipple, the other caught between his thumb and forefinger as he pinched lightly.

Her hair brushed over his hand as she arched backwards again, the vague idea that her hair must be very long passed briefly through his mind, but he ignored it until later, when he would replay this moment for himself. For now, he could only hear her moaning, feel the press of her body writhing against his. He could only focus on the building frenzy between them and this first opportunity to discover the nuances of her body.

The skin of her areola tightened under his touch, puckering into tiny furrows of arousal, making her nipple protrude even further. His fingertips skated the underside of her breast and explored the planes of her stomach. Her arched back made the base of her ribcage stand out, a hard curve against the softness of her skin. The muscles in her stomach worked under his palm in time with the sway of her hips. He followed the gentle bow of her waist, down over the arc of her hip until he encountered that same soft trim of lace. He brushed his fingers across her hipbone and along the crease at the top of her thigh. Pressing forward between her legs, he felt the heated damp on her panties.

With a grunt she shifted forward, pulling his hands away and leaning so he was pushed down to his back again, wrists pinned to the bed. She shifted her legs, still rocking, riding him. When she leaned forward to cover him this time, he could feel how hot her skin was, a burn of excitement that built between them. Panting against his neck, moaning into his ear, she focused her undulations to a pinpoint of motion that increased as she pressed and twisted against his cock.

He held her and felt her hair covering her back, sliding over her arms, he curled his fingers into it, soft and luxuriant. Her breasts were once again pushed against his chest, nipples pressing and skimming his skin, so he cupped her ass, the line of lace bisecting firm round muscles that flexed and rocked under his hands. He swatted, landing a gentle spank against her skin. She grunted in his ear and pressed harder against him, as her writhing ramped up.

He spanked her again, relishing the noise she made and the sudden jerk forward of her lower body before finding the tempo of her movement again. His hand slid down her leg, through the small valley on the side of her thigh, between the definition of her front and back leg muscles. Every inch of her was a fire, sweet burning velvet. He could only moan at the feel of her as his fingers pressed into her skin.

Coupled with the loose thin material from his borrowed pants, her movements created the perfect amount of friction and pressure on his cock. Ribbons of heat spiraled throughout his body, matching pace with the swing and thrust of her hips. Alex rocked and pushed back into her, a perfect concert of pleasure, accented by moans and gasps. Her forehead was slick, gliding across his cheek and jaw and her breath tumbled in heated waves over his own sweat-dampened skin. The ribbons, the heat, looped around, following their paths back to tie into blazing knots as he clutched her ass.

She dug her fingernails into his shoulder and let out a cry as her body tensed around him, he could feel every muscle stiffening as she shook and whimpered. It was the final nudge required to send him beyond self-control and had him coming in his pants like some schoolboy. The intensity of pleasure like a gunshot ricochet rebounding between them as they writhed and moaned and forced themselves together as though the could fuck right through their clothes.

Alex felt himself lost in the explosion, only vaguely aware of the woman crying exaltation in his ear or the burn of her nails on his skin. He twisted and thrashed beneath her, his moans tangling into hers until there was no more. His body went slack on the mattress.

"That was awesome," she muttered against his ear as she shifted to lie beside him, the heat slowly dissipating.

He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "I am so glad you finally showed up tonight."

"What do you mean finally showed up? I thought you'd never get off that fucking chair. I was watching you for almost an hour."

"Seriously."

"Yeah. Well, I mean there was a party going on. It's not like I was standing six inches in front of you the whole time, making shadow puppets on your face."

Alex laughed. "That would have been cool."

"Yeah, I thought so too. But your friend might have noticed me."

"Probably not."

"Not that observant?"

Alex smiled. "You've got boobs, he'd have noticed that."

"Bit of a gronk?"

"Nah, he's a good guy," he said, brushing her hair back off her shoulder. "Been best friends since junior high."