Makeover

"Oh!" she said.

"How was that?"

"Well, it'll do for your first time I guess."

"First time??"

She turned and crawled over me, causing me to wince as she put her knees in various sensitive spots. She got to her feet. "Now let's go get the book. Shit, where's my kimono...." And she left the room.

"Oh my dear God."

It wasn't possible for people outside on the ground floor to see into Denise's bedroom window, but if it was - one hour later they would have witnessed a remarkable sight. They would have seen a serious-looking hard-bound book on the bed, opened to the middle. Denise - naked, upside-down, her head and shoulders on her bed but her feet high in the air. Me - standing on the floor, her ankles around my neck, hands on her hips to keep her lifted in position. I was thrusting downward, plunging into her quim and stimulating her top wall. With a free hand Denise rubbed herself vigorously.

"Oh, Eric! Oh!" she cried raggedly, only able to speak when she exhaled. "I think I can... get off this way. Oh! How about... you? Do you like it?"

It did feel good, but I was sweating from the effort. "Denise... I uh, oh God! I don't think, I don't think they really did this in feudal Japan."

"Should we... oh! Should we put this one on the keep list?"

"Yeah. Just make a note... you need to stretch first."

Before the Diving Crane had been the Open Lotus. Before that the Katana & Saya. Denise was so eager to try them all. But I had to pace myself; I couldn't risk another orgasm or I'd need a much longer break.

When my arms grew too wobbly, we collapsed in a heap on the bed and caught our breath. Looking at each other, we chuckled, and then resumed laughing. That wonderful feeling of elation, mirth - it hadn't worn off. I felt airborne. All these preposterous contortions - all these variations on the theme of loving each other, it was a tonic for me. All of my doubts had seeped away. Denise's love was a gift. A gift I didn't deserve, but she had given it freely.

She looked down at my still hard rod. "Still going strong?" she inquired. Lazily she started stroking it. I lay back, contented. "Well," she said, "If you like this, say something."

"Oh! Oh!" I cried out girlishly.

"Stop that!" she punched me in the arm. I laughed. "I need water," she added after a snort. "It's hard work being a geisha."

We padded out to the kitchen and both had a glass.

"It's weird," I mused. "It doesn't even feel strange to see you naked anymore."

"I'm conditioning you," she said slyly. She stepped to me and pressed her body to mine. "My theory, informed by years of psychological training..."

"Which you don't have." I pointed out.

"...my theory is, it's impossible to be uncomfortable with a girl's body after you've already kissed her butthole."

"Ahh."

"The literature is very clear on this."

She laughed again. Her smile was only inches from me, and it was rapturous. It melted me. I was seized with a sudden desire. I took her by the hand and pulled her out to the living room.

"Hey!" she cried. I looked around and selected her big, cushioned sofa chair. I led her to it and sat her down.

"No more book." I told her. "Now it's my turn."

I knelt in front of her as she looked at me with surprise. I took her left leg and lifted it over the cushioned armrest. Then I put her right leg over the opposite armrest. Her lotus was exposed, pink and puffy from all the fun we had just had. Instinctively she reached to cover herself, but I gently placed her hand aside. She understood and with an effort kept her hands away. Her breathing quickened.

Looking in her eyes I kissed her inner thigh, working upwards to her sex. At her pelvis the flesh became more sensitive and she moved and turned. I caressed her with my tongue, staying outside of the labia, planting kisses.

"Oh!"

I now did the same on the other side. My hands roamed up her torso, over her chest, and back down. I gave her slit a forceful lick without warning and she jumped. Now I held her under the buttocks and thighs, holding her steady. I would pin her to my mouth. I teased closer and closer to the target, but kept backing away. I put hot breaths on her vulva, I licked lightly. She squirmed. I saw her expression of need.

"Please, Eric."

Still I teased her. I would bring her to an excruciating point. I thought back to Denise's 'dream life'. She wanted to be desired? To be lusted for? I didn't know how to make my own dreams come true, but I could fulfill hers. Her slender, flat body was not sexy in the usual way I would judge these things. But - theory number three was real. She was beautiful. Every inch of her. I desired her now as much as anyone I had ever looked at or dreamt of. Now I was going to have my way with her.

My tongue probed up and down her lips. I avoided her hood - but I nibbled and caressed everywhere else. Her muscles contracted as if to twist her hips, but I held her and she wasn't going anywhere.

"You can struggle if you want," I told her, "But I'm going to drive you insane and there's nothing you can do about it."

I teased and nibbled until her moans were loud and involuntary. She's ready. I pointed my tongue and dipped it inside. The taste was unique and wonderful. She arched her back and cried aloud, "Ohhh!". I enjoyed every inch, every crevice.

Then I added the harmony. Three fingers on my right hand, quickly sucked, and thrust in underneath my exploring tongue. I pistoned her. She bucked, or tried to. My nose rubbed her clit.

"Yeah... Yeah..." She panted.

I wasn't done. After twenty seconds of this treatment my left hand came up. I put the thumb under her hood and roughly massaged her nub. I continued to lick. She shook like a tuning fork.

I spoke between licks. "More. More. More. More. More. More. More."

I licked my left pinkie. Keeping the thumb on her clit, my pinkie went down to that tiny brown circle. Denise gasped, but I wouldn't be denied. I pushed it in. My right hand continued jackhammering her. My tongue began licking the alphabet: A... B... C...

She was no longer vocal. I looked up. From my vantage I could only see her nostrils and gaping open mouth. She had thrown her head back.

"You're going to cum and cum and cum," I told her. You can only fight for so long. Then you'll have to surrender. You're going to come until I say you've had enough. And you'll never have enough." I went back to it, and now tried to double the speed. I sucked, I pistoned, I rubbed, I twisted the pinkie. Fluid gushed out of her sex. Her hands pulled on my hair. She took irregular breaths. Her mouth never closed. She writhed and spasmed.

After an uncounted time, I slowed to a stop, and gently removed each digit. I kissed her pussy lovingly. She was still breathless, still shaking with small spasms, wordless, still grasping at my head.

I moved up her body to her chest, then her neck, then her beautiful face which was dazed, unfocused, and open-jawed. Gingerly I removed her glasses and set them aside. "Denise," I whispered, and kissed her cheek. At the same time I pushed my cock all the way home, deep inside her. Her eyes found mine for a moment, but when I started to move my hips they lost focus again. She could make no sound.

I kissed her lips gently and stroked her cheek while delivering push after push. I was taking her, claiming her, fucking her. Her feet moved and connected behind my back. Her eyes found mine again. She kissed me back. "Are you okay?" I whispered. She could only nod. She held me, and as my climax approached she threw her head back, rocked by another one of her own. When I could stand it no more, I buried my cock fully inside her and cried out. She held me tight as I shook and flooded her with milk. Her heart pounded against my own.

For some minutes we held each other. There was no need to speak. When the time came to pull apart, she winced at my withdrawal. The sofa chair was big enough for two; I sat down beside her. She put a tired hand on my thigh, and I covered it with my own.

"Did you like it?" I asked. She nodded. "Do you want to go back to the book?" She shook her head. "Then what should we do?" Her eyes were tired. When she opened her mouth her voice was raspy.

"I think I'll have that danish now."

We sat at her breakfast table. Denise had the kimono back on, I was wearing my briefs and shirt. The cherry danish in front of her was mostly eaten. My arm was extended across the table and we held hands.

"I'm sorry, I didn't really plan a lunch," she explained. "I wasn't even sure yesterday that we'd make it to lunch. I was scared."

"Don't be scared anymore."

She smiled. "I'm not." She looked away thoughtfully. "I know sex is just part of love. It's not the whole thing. Or even the most important thing. But Eric," she looked at me and paused, trying to master her emotions. "This is like heaven on Earth. What you do to me. How can it be this good?"

Hearing those words I swelled with pride. Sex, for me, always included a struggle: the struggle to give back a fraction of the pleasure that I was getting. If I felt like the woman had gotten 50% of the sensations, the connection, the excitement, the orgasms, that was a pretty good result. But it still meant that sex was something mostly for me. Something I took, and they gave. To hear that Denise's bliss was the equal of my own? Or even more? I could move mountains, I could conquer countries. There was no sweeter compliment.

I spoke plainly. "You know that I love you, right? I'm in love with you."

Her reply was barely a whisper: "You are?"

I nodded. "I'm done trying to fight it. I was obsessed with what the downsides might be. The pitfalls. I thought at every turn that I would lose you. I wouldn't even look at the upside - the happiness that might be possible."

She choked up. "I know, right? You're so freaking stubborn."

I rose and crossed to her side of the table. I took her hand and she stood up. "I don't know why you chose me. I don't know why I deserve to win the lottery like this. And no matter how stubborn I got, you never gave up on me." I hugged her tightly. "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

"Nobody thinks they deserve love," she suggested, the tears now falling freely.

"If we're going to be in a real relationship," I considered, "I think we ought to warm up with a little game."

"Another game?" she raised her eyebrows.

"Yeah. The rules are simple. Whoever's dreams come true first, loses." She giggled at this. "It might take a couple of years to play though."

"You're on," she smiled.

That night, we cuddled on her couch, under a blanket, watching movies. My feet were up on the coffee table, resting on The Secret Erotic Arts of Feudal Japan. A thought occurred to me, something that had been at the back of my mind.

"You tricked me, you know." I said to her.

"What do you mean?"

"Asking for my help for that makeover. You just wanted to know what I considered sexy."

"Are you mad at me?"

"Mad that you schemed to bring love and happiness into my life?" I wondered. "Well... I'll forgive you this time."

"It was kind of a dumb plan," she admitted.

As an afterthought, I added: "You know, your new clothes. The dresses and skirts and the heels. If you were wearing all that just for me, you don't have to."

"What?"

"The makeover. You can go back to the old you if that's what you want. I'll love you just the same."

I had meant this as a casual remark, but looking over at her I saw she was tearing up all over again.

"Really?" she asked.

I was taken aback, but I'm an experienced dude. I nodded sagely and acted like I had meant it to be profound.

"Yes." I held her hand. "You don't need to put on a show with me. Not anymore."

She exhaled with a gust of relief, and gratitude. She smiled, and cried, and laughed.

"Don't worry, I like the new clothes," she admitted. "They're fun. I like the variety. But I may bring back the sweatpants. They're just too comfy."

"That's cool," I said. "Just - one request. Keep shaving your armpits. That's the only one of the changes I'll lobby for."

Her eyes narrowed. "What is it with you and armpits? What, you don't like armpits?"

"No, I just... uh,"

Her shirt was off in a flash. "Kiss it," she demanded. "Kiss my armpit."

"What, no! Get it away from me!"

"I'm the most... beautiful woman you've... ever... seen... and you won't... kiss my armpit?"

"Ahhh!" I struggled under the surprise attack. "I should never have told you that!!"

"Don't make me bring out the other one!"

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!"

8 (Epilogue)

The white hot hatchback streaked northward at illegal speeds, up Interstate 15 towards Las Vegas. Victorville was behind us, the last exurbs rushed past and gave way to raw desert. Pristine desert, I wanted to imagine, were it not for the 7-11 or In-N-Out Burger signs every five minutes. Denise sat in the driver's seat, hands firmly at ten and two, leaning forward and staring intently through her lenses. The sun had gone behind the mountains, but there would be another 30 minutes of light. After that, I would volunteer to trade places.

"How long has it been since you've had a weekend in Vegas?" I asked.

"Hmm. Does passing through on a teen tour count?"

"Not really."

"Then never. I'm relying on you to show me what I'm missing."

I was planning on it. Dinner, dancing, a little gambling. And that would just be tonight. We had gone shopping the week before for some fun Vegas-style outfits. I chose a fairly ridiculous black velvet shirt with a floral print. Perfect for stepping through the doors of a nightclub, but not much else. But Denise had outdone herself and chosen a silver, glittering sequin cocktail dress. She wouldn't model it for me - I'd have to wait - but I knew she was going to be stunning. Together we were going to cut an impressive figure walking up the Vegas strip.

I could imagine it vividly. Denise with her hair up, walking confidently through the crowds in that sexy sequin dress. Men, and women would look at her. Most of them would be impressed. But maybe some, the 'theory 2', beauty-on-the-outside types, would be snickering - nudging one another to look - wondering how this skinny, nearsighted misfit thought she could pull off an outfit like that. But when she passed close, and they got a glimpse of her face, they would see something, something they wouldn't understand. Denise would flash a smile, and they'd get a single, fleeting glimpse into a soul with boundless courage, love and laughter. For just a moment, they'd be struck, and stilled by a profound, undefinable beauty. They would blink, looking back at her, struggling to process what they had seen; but she would already be walking away. And she was mine. This incredible woman was mine! And her joy was my joy.

There was only one problem.

"You're being quiet," Denise observed.

"Just thinking."

"Share it with me."

"About how wonderful you are, and how long this will all last before I fuck it up, which I'm bound to do."

Denise shook her head. "You won't fuck it up. It won't be like it was with Helena."

I stared straight ahead. It was just her and me now. She deserved to know what she was getting into with me. She deserved the truth.

"There's a poison in me," I told her.

"You've said that before. But what does it mean?"

"I cheat on women. I cheated on Helena. I cheated on all the women before her. And given enough time, I'll cheat on you too."

"No you won't."

"It's impossible to imagine right now. I'm in love with you. I've never felt this way about anyone before. I'm drunk with love for you. But this feeling... it's always temporary, isn't it? One year from now, maybe two, I'll get bored of you. Not because any man in his right mind would get bored of you, but because of the flaw in my design, in this software." I pointed at my head.

"And then I'll start desiring other women. I won't tell you about it. Eventually there'll be a chance for an infidelity. Likely the other woman will be cheating too. If you've never had cheating sex - it can be quite intoxicating. There's this extra edge of danger. And depravity."

Denise listened.

"I'll get away with it! You won't suspect. Why would you? So I'll do it again, and again. Each time getting a little less cautious, caring less and less about getting caught. I'll have mentally checked out of our relationship. I'll compound lies on top of lies, each one getting more brazen. Eventually, you won't be able to pretend to believe me anymore, and then you'll catch me, and by then I'll be glad it happened. And your heart will break. It will shatter. And there will be a moment when the scope of what I've done, how I've hurt you, is clear to me. And there'll be no way to undo it."

"And even knowing right now how horrible this betrayal is, and how much I want to avoid it, I don't think I can. It's like an asteroid you can see coming at a great distance. It's there. It's coming. You can't stop it."

In my imagination, this confession of my deepest secret was going to make Denise weep, wail, rend her garments. Instead, I think she merely picked her nose. She struggled now to see the road clearly in the gathering dusk.

"Is that it?" she asked.

"God damnit Denise, I'm being serious!"

"Did you ever give Helena this warning back on your guys' first trip to Las Vegas?"

"We never went to Las... No, I never warned her about it."

"So, you didn't tell her, but you're telling me. Sounds to me like maybe you're... changing?"

"Yes, I'm trying."

"You can change. You're capable of change. Think of how much you've changed since I walked through your door on your birthday. You've changed more than I have. I just grew out my hair and put on some dresses. You've had to fight all these battles with yourself."

"There's something in me that's broken."

"Broken. Poison. Asteroid. Horrible things beyond your control. These are not the right metaphors for you Eric." She reached over and grasped my hand. "What you're talking about are decisions, choices. You're in control of these decisions. There's no gremlin in your head pushing buttons against your will. It is not inevitable destiny that you'll hurt me."

"For one thing, I won't let you. I will be there, talking to you. We'll check in on this. Every week. Every day if we have to. When my face starts to seem 'boring', instead of 'Most Beautiful Woman I've Ever Seen' ™, then we're going to talk about it.

"I wish that would work."

"You're right about one thing," she added. "I don't think the early infatuation in a relationship can last forever. I think it's normal for passion to decline over time. But that doesn't mean I become boring, or that there's something wrong with you. It means the time where the love is effortless is ending, and the time where the love takes work is beginning."

"I'm not afraid of that time Eric. Because there's a different reward waiting for us there. A love between us that isn't just about beauty or sex, or your frankly weird armpit fetish."

"God damnit."

"There's a deeper love that's possible. And I can't describe it because I've never felt it. But I think it's sort of like an endless horizon, just like this one in front of us."

What she was describing sounded wonderful. Was it possible? Could I make different choices? Could I put my trust in Denise, entrust her with helping me manage these impulses, guiding me toward a completely different destiny?

"You can change," she said again.

And in that moment with Denise's hand in mine, I decided that I could. She could heal me. I would let her. My crazy, gawky, gorgeous girlfriend loved me, and I loved her. It was going to be okay.

"Think of it as a makeover." she advised. A smile grew across my face to match the one on hers as the car sped forward into the twinkling desert.