Girl at a Café

You walk into the apartment in a tall building in the city. The man answers the door and invites you in. The apartment is hot and sparsely decorated with a couch and a table and a small TV. On the walls are paintings of city scenes and women and flowers. The man offers you a drink, which you politely decline. You drank a shot of absinthe before you came and are feeling rather high.

The man, who is young and thin, has a beard and longish hair and wears glasses. He is friendly and you sense he is a little nervous. "This way," he says, smiling.

You walk into the bedroom and see the girl lying on the bed beneath a white sheet looking out the window. You had seen her sitting at a table on the street outside a café earlier that morning. She was wearing a long thin black dress when you saw her, and when she stood, you saw she was pregnant and this sexually excited you. Her body was still tight and slender and small. When you saw her, you could hardly avert your gaze. She saw you looking at her, smiled, and pulled her hair behind her ear.

When she walked into the small café, you followed and thought up any excuse to talk with her. She had sat a table in the back and ordered a double mocha. You asked what she would suggest in a place like this. She smiled and in a soft voice told you the espresso in particular was illicit. This was how you met.

When she hears you enter her room, she looks away from the window at you, and smiles. She appears nervous, excited and scared. She looks at her husband or boyfriend or whatever for reassurance, or, to see if permission is still granted, and he smiles approval. A fan on the ceiling blows cool air on the bed. A Picasso print hangs on the wall above the bed and a cross hangs beside the print.

The girl sits up and looks at you, into your eyes and at your mouth. She lies back on the bed letting the sheet fall off her body. You can see her breasts full and white, and her belly, half covered by the thin sheet. The man sits in a chair in the corner. You reach out and place your hand in the middle of her chest. She grasps the top of her bed and tilts her head back as she closes her eyes.

"She told me that when she saw you she had to be with you. It was inevitable." The man says from his chair in the corner while he smokes a cigarette, being careful to blow the smoke out the window.

With your finger, you draw a line down the girl's chest to her belly, then down the side of that, to her hip. Your finger goes up her side around her left breast, over her nipple to her neck, along her collarbone, down her shoulder, to her wrist. You do this slowly and her body twinges as you do this.

Finally, your fingers come to rest on her jawbone.

She opens her eyes.

You stand and remove your clothing.

You lean over her and touch her lips with yours, your tongues softly touch. She wraps her hand around the back of your neck and runs her hand up the back of your head. You touch each other softly, delicately, as if the other might break. Your heart is nervous and worried and it's as if you try to soothe yourself by touching her in a most precious way.

Your lips move to her cheek, then her neck, where you kiss her throat. You are hard and throbbing while she grasps you and strokes.

She opens her legs for you and tries pulling you in but you are not ready. You tongue her nipples while you raise her hands above her head.

You are kissing her breasts, and then her belly, thinking how beautiful her body is and how the smell of her skin reminds you of sea air. You want to pleasure this girl, drive her out of her mind and you are doing just that. You go down, lift her legs slightly, and run your tongue feather soft over her. The man in the corner has walked around to the side of the bed and is bent over whispering in her ear. They kiss, hold hands for a moment, then he stands up and leaves the room.

She takes a deep breath and let's out a soft sigh. Slowly you go up and down, wetting her. Small circles at the top then deep and hard. The girl cups your head in her hands as you taste her. Soft and slow, soft and slow. The girl goes quiet for a short time then starts moaning, grasping your head harder. Just as she is about to cum you raise up and thrust deep into her. Her whole body shuddders and convulses as you cum the moment after she cums as if her orgasm alone has brought you to climax. The thought of the two of you cumming at the same time is beautiful. You lay on top of the girl while she breathes you in. She wraps her legs around you and thrusts her hips.

You are still hard and want to pleasure her again. Slowly you slide into her, and she loves it though she makes sounds as if it hurts. You thrust into her in a consistent pounding rhythm. You cup her ass with your hand digging your nails into her hoping it hurts. The metal framed bed is squeaking, practically bouncing. She is crying out ready to cum again and she pulls herself tight to you as she cums. After a moment, you lay beside her and move her hair off her face. You lay beside her with her legs wrapped around you. while she draws small circles on your back, staring at the ceiling.

"Do you have a girlfirend?" she asks.

"Yes."

"Will you tell her about us?"

"Probably not."

"Do you love her?"

"Yes."

"I don't love him."

You don't speak.

"But he takes care of me. We will stay together for our child."

"That's good,"

"Do you like France?"

"Yes. It's beautiful."

"Very different from America."

"Yes. More freedom."

"I've been to America once - New York. New York is very exciting."

"I love New York."

"Are you staying long in France?"

"No. I leave Monday." The girl doesn't speak. Then,

"When I saw you. I fell in love. Instantly. You looked so strong, yet, when I saw your eyes they appeared wise. It felt like you knew who I was. I've never felt like that before."

You smile.

"Would you stay with me the night?" She asks. "I would love to wake up with you in the morning."

"I have a place to be in the morning." She doesn't speak. A soft breeze blows in through the window.

"Come. Let's drink."

She rolls out from under you and stands beside the bed. She pulls an emerald colored t shirt from her drawer and pulls it over her head. Come.

You get out of the bed not wanting to. You put on your clothes and follow her to the kitchen.

She opens the fridge and pulls out a glass pitcher of mineral water and pours you and herself a drink. The water is cool and refreshing and you look at the girl and smile.

"Why are you smiling?" She asks. You shake your head and say nothing though you still smile.

"Please tell me?"

"No."

You think that she looks beautiful standing in the kitchen, holding the glass of mineral water with beads of condensate on the glass, with long, messed, ink colored hair, wearing only an emerald colored t-shirt that you can see her breasts and small pregnant belly through. She looks older than you originally thought - maybe mid twenties, instead of eighteen or nineteen. Her skin appears fresh and soft.

"Come, let me show you something," she says. She walks over to a bookshelf and takes a photo album from the shelf.

"Here, look." She sits and crosses her legs and opens the book.

"This is my family's home in Arcachon I lived here all my life before I came to Paris."

You look at the pictures of far reaching green fields and mountains at the horizon. There are several pictures of family members gathered at the front entrance of a large stone home, and you see she has several brothers and sisters.

"I would like to see them," she says.

"Why don't you?" You ask.

"My family is angry with me. They disapprove of my life."

"I see."

"They want me to go to school and get married and have children, and live a perfect life."

"Of course they do. Once, you were their little girl." You say this smiling. She looks at you as if you have said something wrong, or said something she has never heard before.

She stands up and places the photo album back on the bookshelf.

When she stands you see a large tattoo on her left shoulder of a red dalia flower through her cotton shirt.

"Come, let's go for a walk. I'll get dressed."

"Not yet," you say.

You had been looking at her while she was standing at the bookshelf, looking at the shape of her body, the curve of her hips, her legs, her arms.

"Go to the window," you say.

She looks at you as if waiting for the answer to a question, then walks over to the window, looking at you through the corner of her eye.

You stand and follow her to the window. From behind, you wrap one arm around her body while the other lifts her shirt. She feels your arm tighten around her as you pull down her panties. She presses her hands against the window. She wants you to fuck her, fuck her hard, she does not resist. Holding her hips tightly, you go down and kiss her ass, licking and kissing. She spreads her legs for you. You stand and take your pants down. Still, with your arm tight around her, your free hand forcefully rubs her clit. "Take me", she whispers as she grasps your cock. She takes your hand and puts a finger in her mouth, nibbling, sucking and biting your finger. The two of you become lost in a violent thrall.

You pull your hand away, and lift her ass so you can enter her. She bends over part way, raising her ass for you. An emotion similar to rage rises. The girl closes her eyes. She is willing, she is lost, blind by lust, wanting you to dominate her. "Fuck me", she says, repeating it over and over. The violence resides as you enter her. Slowly you thrust.

You twist your hand in her hair and pull, fingernails dig into skin. You spank her ass as she is bent over; spanking and spanking, leaving red hand prints. Your rhythm slows and she pushes back against you, wanting you deeper. She murmurs a prayer in french as she cums, and you wrap yourself around her as wave after wave flows from you into her. And then you hold her, hold her tight, feeling you drip from her as her breath steams the window.