Pacific Heat

"Holy shit, you are talented," he said weakly. I grinned and backed up under the water again to rinse him off.

We finished up in the shower and dried off. Now the awkward part. Do I ask him to stay? Tell him goodnight? What now?

He looked at me and gave me a gentle kiss on the mouth.

"You are more than I could ever have asked for," he said. "if you want me to go, I will. If you want me to stay, I will. And either way I will understand."

"Stay?" I said almost as a question. I looked up to see what his reaction was, and I think he let out his pent up breath. He leaned down and kissed me again.

"Your wish is my command," he said grinning.

He stayed the night and we cooked breakfast together in the morning. He said he had to go to work and that he'd see me at the club that night. I had never looked forward to going there as I had that evening.

Dusk finally came, but Eric didn't. I did my set, the whole while scanning the crowd for traces of him. I even checked the parking lot during my break to make sure that I wasn't missing him where I looked. No car.

Disappointed, I figured that it had to have been too good to be true. he probably was a whack job and now he knew where I lived. How could I have been so stupid?

I headed home, all the while cursing myself for my bad judgment. Even still, I hoped that his car would be parked in my driveway when I got home. Disappointment once again. I went inside, looking at the couch, remembering the extreme pleased that was given and received there. I don't think I'd ever look at it again without thinking that.

As usual, I headed up the stairs to take my shower, to wash the "Club stench" as I called it, off me. More memories. God help me if I was going to think of him every time I took a shower.

Life proceeded without so much as a word from Eric for three weeks. Then one day I received a dozen roses. There was a card that said, "Please give me a chance to explain." If that bastard was married, I thought, I'm going to shoot him. Ok, well, maybe that was a bit extreme, but there better be a good explanation. I was just beginning to be able to look at my couch normally again.

What explanation could there possibly be for him giving me the best night of my life, saying he would see me the next day then not hearing anything from him for three weeks. And I was just about over him. Yeah right, who was I kidding? Guys like that didn't come along every day.

I pondered the excuses: “I'm a missionary and I was in Africa saving thousands of lost souls.” Or, “I'm the only doctor in the world who specializes in neuro-cardio-prostate disease, and there was a breakout in Southeast Asia.” It had to be something. It just had to be. I couldn't stand the thought of him telling me that he was married, had those two Fruit Loop kids, and he just couldn't get away because his wife was sick or something.

I knew he didn't have my phone number. Hell, he only knew my stage name, so there wasn't even a way he could look it up. And even if I DID know his last name, I would be damned if I was going to call him! So, I figured I'd let him explain. I put the flowers in water and tucked the card away in my secret drawer of keepsakes and waited for the explanation. Unless he drove over here tonight, I'd have to wait to see him at the club.

I tried to stay awake as long as I cold, but at 3:30 I finally gave in and came to the conclusion that he definitely wasn't coming that night. The next night I did the whole club thing and would you believe he didn't show up there either? He was really trying my patience and I was about to set fire to the roses. 6 more days and nothing.

Now, here I am, standing on my balcony, looking out at the full moon, just like it was on that night. Damn him. But yet, I still have the strangest feeling that tonight he will come to me. I have to think of something else, or I'll go nuts. I walked into the house, leaving the balcony door open so the gentle breeze could flow through the house, and the first thing I see is the couch. Not a great place to start. Although, I figured, what the hell.

I can reminisce. I started to think of all the magnificent things he had done to my body with his. There was that tingling again.

I sat on the couch, and rubbed my hand up and down my thigh. My other hand found its way to my breast and it began to massage my nipple. I caressed my inner thing and found that I was getting turned on by just thinking about what I was doing. I had never done this before and didn't have a clue what I was about to do, but I figured that no one was watching, so it couldn't hurt. I let myself think about that night and how his fingers had felt inside me. I let my index finger slide inside and marveled at how wet I was already. I took it out and played with my clit. Closing my eyes, I envisioned his tongue sliding in and out. I lifted my skirt so that it was around my waist and unbuttoned my blouse. I liked the feel of my satin bra on my skin so I decided that this was my fantasy, I was going to leave it on.

My hand found it's way back down to the wetness and once again started massaging. I found that my hips were moving and my breath was coming fast and heavy. I imagined him entering me and at that second I felt myself give in to the desire and exploded.

I almost felt ashamed. I had never done that before in my life. I started to relax on the couch and I opened my eyes slowly, as if I was afraid someone had seen me. I saw his shadow before I saw him and jumped up off the couch, skirt still around my middle.

"You bastard! What are you doing here?" I lunged at him, but I was no match for his muscled frame.

"That was something," he said, holding my wrists.

"How did you get in here?" I asked, but before I finished the sentence, I remembered the open balcony door. There was access to it from outside, so I could walk on the beach when I wanted.

"I knocked, but no one answered. I saw the lights on, so I figured I'd surprise you. Surprise!" He was smirking like the cat who caught the canary. Nothing like being busted at the most intimate moment of your private life to knock down all your protected barriers and snappy comebacks that you'd been thinking of for a month.

"Let me go," I snapped. He released my arms, and I tried to regain what was left of my composure. Hard to do with your blouse unbuttoned and your skirt wrapped around your middle. I tugged it back down.

"You don't have to do that on my account," he said. I wanted to wipe that smirk right off his face.

"Where the hell have you been? And this better be good." I think I was yelling.

"There is a good explanation, I swear to you. Sit down." He looked at the couch and I wondered what he was thinking. "Please," he said.

"Are you married?" I asked.

"What? No," he started to chuckle. "Is that what you thought? Oh, baby, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." He reached into his back pocket and produced his wallet. He opened it and handed it to me.

"You’re a cop?" I said, dumbfounded. I was glad I was sitting. He was too cute to be a cop.

"I started a stakeout at the club about 6 months or so ago. We thought there was a drug ring. I heard you sing and you hypnotized me. I started going just to see you." I was still holding his wallet, looking for the Cracker Jack logo or something on his badge to tell me this guy was making all this up. It sure did look real.

Drugs? At the club? Man, I was naive.

"Go on," I said. He put his hand on my knee. I stiffened, but he started rubbing it and I relaxed a bit. "What happened? Was there a drug ring?"

"Yes, but after they were busted, I had to lay low for a while. I work undercover and if someone made me, I’d be in danger, especially these thugs from your club. My boss was afraid that someone might be after me. He sent me to D.C. to help another detective finish up his case. I wasn't even in town when I sent the flowers. I was supposed to come back that night, but I got held up in D.C. Cassie, I am so sorry. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was hurt you. Can you ever forgive me?"

Those eyes would be the undoing of me. As far-fetched as this story was, one look in his eyes told me he was telling the truth. He leaned down and kissed me, softly at first. God, how I missed him. The intensity picked up and I actually yearned for him. The kisses were harder and more demanding, and I wanted more.

"Do you have any idea how turned on I am? Your little show was quite amazing."

Thinking he was mocking me, I pulled back.

"No, I mean it, I have never seen anything like that, and it was absolutely incredible." He slipped off my blouse and used his thumbs to tease my nipples through my bra. He kissed my neck as my hands found their way to his zipper. What had this man done to me to make all of my inhibitions fly right out the window. Two minutes ago I was ready to torch his Lexus, now he was the one setting me on fire.

Little moans escaped his mouth, but didn't slow him any in removing my bra and driving me wild with his mouth on my breast. He sucked in as much as he could and used his hand to rub the rest. His other hand slid up my leg and based on his reaction, he was not disappointed that I had no panties on. Oh his magic fingers! He eased me on to my back and slid off my skirt.

"Not here," I said. I had enough memories on this couch to last a lifetime. I was ready to make some more in different areas of the house. I seductively went up the stairs to my bedroom and sprawled across the bed. Like a tiger, he crawled over to me, still fully clothed.

"I have a lot of making up to do, my love, and I intend to do it." He started at my toes, and licked his way up my leg, stopping every so often to shower whatever part he was on with kisses. When he had reached my inner thigh, he started on the other leg and did the same. This time, though, he parted my legs and proceeded to kiss every inch of my inner thighs. My own hands were cupping my breasts, running the fingertips across my nipples, causing waves of desire through my body.

His fingers traced around my clit, making each pass more intense than the last. When he finally slid them inside, I was almost to the point of satisfaction, but wanted to make it last. But the combination of his fingers and tongue was more than I could handle. I came in spasms. He didn't stop, and I wasn't sure I wanted him to. Although I wanted to reciprocate some of these feelings.

"Come up here," I throatily whispered to him. He crawled up the rest of the way so that he was on top of me. I could feel how hard he was beneath his pants. There's something about knowing that another is turned on that is like an aphrodisiac to me. He was so hard.

Trying to undress someone who is a bit heavier than you and lying on top of you is quite the challenge. I think he realized my frustration and rolled over. I unzipped his pants, then told him to stand. In a swift movement, he was up and half undressed. In mere seconds, he was completely naked, standing in front of me fully erect. I wanted to drive him wild with desire. I wanted to bring him to the brink of satisfaction, then back off. Then start all over again.

I licked my lips and nibbled the very end of him. Groaning was such a wonderful sound. I let my tongue play with him for a while, never letting my mouth wrap itself around him. Only tongue. Up and down, licking, fluttering around the tip. When he grabbed my hair, I rammed my mouth around him and plunged. I felt him shudder and stopped. I could see his muscled relax just a bit, but I was nowhere near done. I got up and used my fingertips to explore his body. I circled around him, with only the very tips of my fingers touching him. He just stood there, eyes closed, as though he were concentrating. His muscles were truly magnificent, and I used my fingers to cover every inch of them. I moved to his waist, tracing the washboard muscles. I kissed areas that interested me, all the while, he stood motionless.

I thought I had tortured him enough, so I once again lay on the bed and suckled him. I let my hands and mouth cover every inch of his penis. I looked up to see his face and almost froze. I hadn't realized what I was doing to him. He was trying so hard not to come, that he was almost in agony.

Feeling a bit guilty, I stopped and moved over so he could lie down.

"I want this so bad," he said, "but I don't ever want to hurt you again."

"I won't let you," I promised.

He hugged me, and rolled on top of me. The moment he entered me, I knew pleasure. He pulsated and in moments came with such force I let out a scream. He collapsed, and rolled off me, lying on his back with his hand over his eyes.

"My God, woman, you are wicked."

"Why that's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me," I said laughing. I rested my head on his chest and he reached down to comb his fingers through my hair.

Smiling, he said, "I take it I'm forgiven?"