Days Off with Lindsay - Julia

He was sitting across from me again, his eyes scanning the room quickly. I watched him, unable to move. "Are you—" shit, was I talking? His eyes finished their search and then fell on me.

"Am I?"

"Uh... are you looking for your friend?"

"Julia..."

"Yeah?" shoot, that was my breathy high pitched voice again. I sounded like a dumbass.

"I don't have a friend I was going to introduce you to." He looked directly into my eyes with the tiniest little smile that looked so wicked, that I felt a tingle of adrenaline and a pull in my stomach, right below my belly button.

I felt my face flush, and my heartbeat in my pussy again. "oh."

What had he said to me? I might know a guy? Holy shit, had he meant...

Before I had time to process or say anything else he finished his drink and stood up, taking another step closer to me, so I could smell his cologne. I blinked a few times and took a breath, trying not to melt into my chair, but that cologne was mouth-watering.

"We should get out of here," he leaned forward just a little. He looked down at the glass I held, which somehow was halfway gone already. "Maybe talk somewhere a little quieter? You seem..." he cocked his head slightly, studying me. "Flustered... distracted."

Yeah, I was distracted. Super distracted to the point where I didn't even trust myself to walk. And I was pretty sure my jeans had a wet spot. He offered me his hand.

"Oh no," I said softly, mostly to myself. I probably needed his hand to stand at this point. I forced my fingers away from the glass and slid it away slightly, and numbly and shakily began to reach for his outstretched hand... but he took it away.

"Oh, no problem," he said softly, kindly. He took his empty glass in one hand. "I may have... misunderstood you. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable. Have a good evening." He gave me a polite smile and walked away.

Wait. What? What had just happened?

I turned, my heart hammering and a chill seeping into my limbs as I watched him slowly walk away and return to the bar with his empty glass. My tongue felt like a lead weight in my mouth. I watched in mute embarrassment and horror as he put his arm around the shoulders another young girl who stood beside him, ordering her own drink.

I turned back to my half-finished martini.

Fuck.

3

"I knew I'd fuck it up. God. How am I so dumb? Why do I even drink alcohol? I can't believe I said that out loud."

"I still don't understand what you said," Lindsay said. We were standing outside by my car, leaned up against it. She was forcing me to drink a bottle of water before I drove, worried I had finished my third martini of the night a little too quickly.

"I said, 'oh no,' like 'oh no he's going to hear how wet my pussy is,' but I think he heard me say 'oh, no,' like 'no I don't want to go somewhere quieter and private with you'." I took another few swigs of water. "I did it, Lindsay. I successfully fucked up my only shot. That was it," I said, pointing vaguely into space, watching my finger trail away and my chance with it. "There it goes."

Lindsay rolled her eyes so hard I could practically hear them rattling around in her head. "You have his profile in your DMs. Shoot him a message. Tell him you changed your mind, you want to talk."

"You know I can't do that."

"You can, but you're scared."

I shrugged.

"Let me ask you this," she said, turning sideways so she was facing me. She nudged me with her boot again, but I refused to look at her. "What would happen if you did message him, and he did come talk to you again? If you got another shot?"

"I'd probably fuck that up to," I said.

"He's interested. That's why he came to chat with you. He'll understand that you're nervous."

I sighed and chose not to answer.

Eventually, Lindsay let me get in my car. She ruffled my hair briefly and gave me her favorite sexy eyebrow raise before waltzing off, her hips gently rocking with the long strong strides towards wherever she'd parked her car.

I shut the door and leaned my head against the back of my seat, closed my eyes, and groaned. I felt defeated, frustrated, and embarrassed. Word will travel that I rejected Paul, and everyone will think I'm crazy or have a kink for fat ugly guys instead of super handsome men with gorgeous lips, I thought. It was an unrealistic thought but it still intruded.

I heard a knock on my window and I jumped, spilling the last of my water bottle on my jeans, leaving a large wet spot right on my crotch.

Shit, I thought, shoving the now empty plastic bottle into the passenger seat next to my purse and grabbing a napkin from my middle storage section. I rolled the window down as I dabbed at the wet mark, and then looked up to see...

"Shit." I dropped the napkin and clasped my hand over my mouth. Stop talking, Julia. For the love of all things holy.

"You okay?" Paul looked at me in concern.

I kept my hand on my mouth, and nodded.

"You... look upset."

"Imuucckup."

"What?" his mouth quirked deliciously.

I dropped my hand into my lap, letting it sit there like a traitor. "I fucked up," I said softly.

"I'm sure you didn't," he said softly. Dammit stop using that voice on me. My pants were already literally soaked.

"No, I did. I talk too much. I ramble. And I sound stupid. And then I say things I don't mean. And I say things out loud that I mean to say inside in my head. But my mouth is kind of nonfunctional and useless. See," I gestured towards my face. "I'm doing it again."

He took another step forward and crossed his arms above his head, pressing them against the top of my car and leaning forward slightly. The blackness of the night behind him was blocked out, and his face was gently illuminated by the light of a streetlamp across from us.

"it's endearing."

"What?" I heard my words escape me before I had a chance to swallow them.

"It's endearing," he repeated, slightly more enunciated. "What was your fuckup?"

I tore my eyes away from his intense dark stare. Maybe if I didn't look at him it would be easier? "I rejected someone by accident," I spat out. "Please leave me alone to wallow my misery."

He chuckled. It sent a warm trickle through me. God he needed to stop that. I had to get this man out of my car and out of my head, or I'd never be able to think straight again.

"Why don't we grab a coffee and we can talk about it?"

My breath hitched and I felt myself turn back to face him against my own will. He had that evil glint in his eye again. Oh fuck. He knew I was talking about our conversation. I knew it in my gut but also hoped I was wrong.

...A second chance?

I stuttered for a second but ended up just nodding. He opened my car door and offered his hand. I bit my lip and thrust my hand out to take it, not wanting it to disappear like last time. His strong fingers wrapped around mine and he helped me to my feet, looking me up and down slowly, then again, and letting out a small huff of a laugh at my damp crotch. I felt myself blushing again. "Good thing it's dark."

"I spilled water," I started to say, but he held up his other hand.

"I know. I saw. It was my fault." He still held my hand strongly. "Why don't you tie your hoodie around it?"

"I... didn't bring it..."

"Really? You always wear your hoodie."

What? He'd noticed my hoodie? "I... I wanted to not... I didn't want to look like a dork. Tonight. When you said—well, you said you might know a guy. But you didn't. Which is fine." I bit my lip again. Oh my God somebody please gag me so that I stop making myself look like a dumbass.

"You really do talk a lot when you get nervous, don't you."

"It's a problem."

"Yes, it might be. I think that's something we can work on." He released my hand and put his hand on the small of my back, right above the waistband of my jeans, his finger pressed gently into the spot right between two of my backbones. It sent a jolt through my body and I felt my stomach drop and pussy clench.

He guided me down the street slowly. In the darkness, and the buzz of the city, we talked.

4

"If you don't go, I'm going to tie you up, gag you, and drive you there myself." Lindsay was brushing my hair while I sat on my couch, clenching and unclenching my fists. My limbs felt numb and I was lightheaded from breathing to shallow for the past few hours. "Hell, I'll leave you on the doorstop, pre-bound."

It had been three weeks since the "incident" where I had thoroughly embarrassed myself and then somehow still managed to go on a nighttime walk with Paul's hand on my lower back. He'd given me his number. We'd texted all week. Made lists. Asked questions. He was kind, straightforward, and confident, and only slightly teased me. His flirting was subtle and it took me a day or two to pick up on it.

He wanted to know what I liked. What I wanted. It felt so weird sending a text to the guy I'd practically idolized over the past year and tell him I wanted him to pull my hair while he throat-fucked me, but he'd only responded positively. To that particular text, he'd said one word. "Good."

Last Sunday at our weekly event at the bar, he'd sidled up to me with another martini. "Just one this time," he said with his smug sculpted lips. "Wouldn't want you to get stuck in your car drinking water again."

I blushed and bit my lip to hide a smile.

He leaned forward slightly, and I felt his breath on my ear. "What are you doing Friday night?"

"Nothing," I said quickly. "Nothing. I'm not doing anything. I have nothing happening. At all."

"Give me your phone." I handed it over without even thinking. He took it and typed for a few moments, and then handed it back. I saw the Maps app open with an address plugged in. "Six o'clock."

"Um. Yeah. Sure. Six. Six o'clock." I nodded a bit too fiercely and almost spilled my drink.

His eyes swept over me, slowly taking in my jeans and t-shirt. I'd gone back to wearing my hoodie. It was just so damn warm. Of course now, with his eyes on my chest, I was a bit too warm and I shifted nervously. He turned to walk away.

"Oh," he turned back to face me, having remembered something. He leaned forward slightly and I felt his breath against my ear and neck. "Until then... don't touch yourself."

I swallowed hard. He gave me a stern look, and walked away before I could answer.

So now Lindsay was brushing my hair and putting a little hint of concealer on my chin where I'd broken out because I was so nervous, and threatening me if I bailed.

Like I was going to throw this chance away.

He'd sent me a text this morning.

Paul: For tonight... White button-down blouse. Skirt. Heels. Black thong.

Julia: Okay.

Paul: Have you been good?

Julia: Yes

"Julia?" Lindsay's voice cut through my dizziness. "Do I need to drive you?" genuine concern crossed her face. "I can drop you off and pick you up. It's no big deal."

"No, I'm okay."

"you sure, cause your heart rate is pretty high right now."

I took several deep, slow breaths, and closed my eyes. She had taught me to visualize a beautiful island in the sun when I was stressed, to try to feel the sun on my skin and the wind on the back of my neck. Usually it helped. But this week, every time I felt the wind on my neck, I felt Paul's lips brushing against my skin, gently nibbling and trailing down my back.

"Fuck," I muttered. "This is going to be a disaster."

"Fuck, this is going to be awesome," Lindsay corrected. "Dream come true, remember? Get in your car. You have 20 minutes to get to his house."

"Lindsay... can I call you after?"

"Girl, I'm hoping you won't want to. But if you do, I'll come over and bring ice cream and wine, if that's what you need."

She helped me to my feet, trying to give me a pep talk in her cool collected manner. She was right, after all. Everything would be fine. He'd like me. He was nice. He was hot. He had specifically said he would take good care of me. I knew he was safe, I knew he would respect my boundaries and call it quits if I safe-worded out.

But the thing about extremely attractive men was, even if you trusted them, knew people who vouched for them, and knew they would do right by you, it still fucked with your brain when they smiled at you. Because, brain chemicals.

My pussy was already aching from the week of chastity. Monday and Tuesday had been okay, a slow ache growing inside me that I could ignore. Wednesday I'd felt every brush of my jeans against my clit, and my muscles tingling every time I'd shifted my weight from one leg to another. By Thursday I was horny, frustrated, and nervous. Today? I'd gone through 2 pairs of underwear by 9am and had just given up after that. My poor body was used to my nightly self-care routine and was missing it.

I arrived at Paul's house and parked my beat up 1994 Hyundai next to his new Lexus, feeling completely out of my league. His home looked modest on the outside; a small place, one story, with a well-kept tiny yard in front. I seriously debated driving away just on the principle of the idea of me walking up to the front porch. Me? Chubby, delirious, unskilled and not that smart, and completely not his type? How had I even gotten here? The gravity of the situation hit me.

I checked the clock. I had three minutes to knock on the door.

I checked myself in the mirror again. Nothing had changed during the drive, but I couldn't help but look in the mirror and smooth my hair down, checking my concealer and almost wiping it off. Fuck. Stop touching it.

He'd told me what to expect, based on our texts, and the lists I'd given him, and the (horribly embarrassing) fantasies I still had on my Reddit page that he'd somehow managed to find. He was going to set me up to fail, and then punish me for it. But that was only going to happen if I could get myself out of this car.

I looked back at the clock. Shit! It was six o'clock. I scrambled out of the car and panicked momentarily about what to do with my purse and keys. Should I take them or leave them? I should probably take them.

My legs shook as I walked towards the door, my breath coming in short bursts. The walk seemed to take forever, but then suddenly I was at his door and I still wasn't prepared. I bit my lip to try to focus myself, and raised my hand to knock on the door.

It was cracked open, ever so slightly.

I knocked twice anyway, wrapping my knuckles on the door, and the action made the door creak open slightly. I poked my head in, and pushed the door open a little.

"Uh... hello?" I took another step in, sliding through the door and shutting it behind me, looking around. I was in a narrow corridor that lead to a hallway. Beside the door was a small empty table. I set my purse down, and silenced my phone, leaving my belongings on the table, and shutting the door securely behind me. I locked it out of habit, having lived in a small apartment by myself for almost three years, and not really thinking about it. As I realized what I was doing, and heard the lock slide into place, I felt a shiver down my spine.

Breathe. He's hot as sin and he wants to fuck you up. What could go wrong?

I focused on my breathing, and on the sound of my heels gently clicking as I walked down the polished hardwood of the hallway. It opened up on either side of me. I looked to my right; there was a kitchen and dining area. To my left, an open seating area with a couch and a few chairs. Paul sat in a tall armchair with his feet up on the ottoman, ankles crossed, sipping a glass of scotch.

I swallowed hard so hard it was definitely audible. I couldn't move. I was in his house, and he was staring at me. And he was going to fuck me. I was buzzing with nervousness and excitement and a little bit of terror, and I was pretty sure I had a wet spot in my skirt.

He was watching me with a combination of amusement and interest, and that beautiful smirk settled on his mouth. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he set his glass down, and gestured with his chin that I should come closer to him. I took a deep breath and approached him. One step at a time, Julia. I felt that familiar cotton-mouth feeling and loss of control over my brain, and nervously started spilling words from my mouth.

"Am I late? I tried to be on time. There was some traffic. I'm sorry if I kept you waiting. My clock said six—"

Paul carefully raised a hand and set one finger on my lips. I stilled, feeling his finger against my mouth, and barely resisted the urge to part my lips and let his finger fall into my mouth.

"Sorry," I mouthed, not making a sound as I wasn't really breathing.

"Julia... you look lovely."

"Tha—" I choked, swallowed, and tried again. "Thank you. I uh... I did what you asked. And I—um, I wore, uh, I wore what you asked." I gestured at my skirt, in dumb obviousness. My hand fell weakly to my side.

He smiled slightly. "I can see that."

Oh lord in heaven please give me something to do so I don't make a fool of myself.

"Julia... sit."

Thank you.

Immediately, I began to bend my knees to sit by his feet but he stopped me with an outstretched hand, almost like he expected my actions and had anticipated stopping me. "ah-ah-ah... here." He tapped his thigh with his hand.

"Oh... Oh. Okay." I straightened slightly and carefully moved closer to him, awkwardly squatting and settling myself down on his lap. I could feel his cock beneath me, pressed up against my leg and my ass, already hard. Oh my god, he was hard for me. What parallel dream world was this?

"Look at me."

I realized my eyes were doing that weird darting thing I did when I was super nervous. I took a deep breath and forced myself to look at him. His handsome face had a sharp, clear, slightly withdrawn expression... but when I exhaled and kept my eyes glued to him, I saw his face softened.

"Julia, are you okay?"

I bit my lip. No, I'm not okay. I've been dreaming about this day like it wasn't going to ever be a real thing, and now it is, and I'm not sure if I'm breathing.

Coughing to cut off my word vomit, I clenched my jaw, and nodded.

"Are you sure? Because you look ill."

"Oh no," I said softly, then gasped at the sound of my own voice. "uh, no, I'm fine. Really. Please." Jesus I was already begging for him.

"Julia... I'm going to respect your boundaries, you know that, right?"

I nodded.

"I'm going to push them. But I'm going to respect them."

I felt the blood rush to my face.

"I am going to pay very careful attention to your requests."

"I know, thank you."

"Would you like a drink?"

I shook my head. "No thanks, it'll hit me too hard."

"Okay... is there anything you want to add, before we begin?"

We were going to begin. Oh fuck. I felt myself choke on my own spit.

"It's just that you're really hot and it's distracting." I felt the words tumble out of my mouth without my permission. "And I didn't think I was your type, and I'm still not sure why you asked me, and I've been kind of thinking about you for a long time." I snapped my mouth shut and pursed my lips as hard as I could, feeling them tingle.

A slow smile crept over Paul's handsome face. I felt a wet spot start to form between my thighs, the lips of my sex pulsing with my heartbeat.

"Would a blindfold help?"

"No because I think I'd fall over."

He chuckled, his eyes lighting up and throwing his chin up just a little. He was enjoying my torment, and just knowing that was making me melt even more. The fact that he knew how vulnerable I was right now made me so wet that I worried I'd leave a spot on his dark jeans.

"Are you afraid?"

I nodded just a little.

"What are you afraid of."

"I don't want to fuck this up." I mouthed the words, my breath barely crawling over my lips enough to make the smallest sound as I spoke.