Ready or Not

The kisses that started light and soft, just barely grazing salty skin as she pecks down my neck, fall harder on my exposed midriff since jumping over my black sports bra. Her red lips draw a path down the side of my waist, arcing inwards to my outie as she holds my hips tight in her large brown hands. Electricity follows faint ovals of Fenty Stunna lipstick left behind on my sweaty pale abdomen, raising tiny bumps on the surface as cool air conditioning rushes in to replace her warm breath. I only see tight black braids when I look down over the tiny mounds of my chest until she raises her head, flashing bright white teeth, smiling devilishly. Staring at me she drapes the long pink arrow of her tongue down and flicks the nub of my belly button; a preview of things to come. The vibrations shake up the nervous energy in my stomach like a jar of fireflies, their glow radiating warmth and anticipation from my core. Holding it out, she runs the tip along the trail of wispy hairs that lead into my black lululemons, dragging the heat down with it. I lift my hips off the bed to help her remove them and look up at the foreign ceiling.

Cecelia wasn't as confident when I first met her, disoriented jogging in our neighborhood. Brown cheeks that hung out of her white high-cut shorts stopped me dead as she consulted her phone, so I took out my earbuds and helped her make sense of the winding crescents and cul-de-sacs. She was my polar opposite: tall, fashionable, with dark, braided hair, perky, ample breasts, and the newest smartphone.

I told myself it was jealousy that made we watch her bouncing frame run until it was out of sight. I told myself it was fantasy that made me think of her when I closed my eyes, rubbing out a silent orgasm next to my snoring husband. I told myself it was curiosity that made me change my running schedule so I could run into her again and find out where she lived. I told myself it was kindness that made me bring over that welcome basket, hoping to be invited in.

In truth, she was captivating. Her voice filled my mind, setting up shop inside my brain as we bonded over running. We ran together every day after my husband left for work in the cool morning air, before the punishing Texas sun rose too high, sharing our innermost fears and desires at 110 bpm. I couldn't take my eyes off her and she could tell, allowing me to feast on her curves as we ran. I wasn't oblivious to her own furtive gaze, logging the colors of thongs that my well-worn black tights couldn't conceal or following the tiny streams of sweat and water that ran down my neck as I hydrated.

The shift was subtle. A hand resting too long, a risqué joke turned serious, it started playful and exciting but I wasn't ready to take it further. Each day we rounded the corner onto her street and said goodbye, the lonely walk home the longest quarter mile in existence. Until today.

Today we ran in silence. When we reached her home she walked right in without saying goodbye, leaving her front door wide open. I knew walking in would change things between us forever, and likely destroy a loveless marriage, but my heartrate rose with each step, validating my decision.

Now I'm staring at her bedroom ceiling, the beating heart of my desires ringing in my ears like bass drums, as the stretchy black pants slide off my hips. Pulling them off my toes, Cecilia stands naked at the edge of the bed, looking down to my pale legs, bent at the knees and frozen together. Cecilia leans forward and places her hands on my raised kneecaps, warming my joints. She looks past them and up to my face, smiling before questioning me with her eyes, asking me if I want to continue.

Slowly, my knees unbuckle and my legs open so wide that the tendons in my hips burn. As my legs spread, my labia part, shiny juices coating the inside, a translucent drop pooling at the bottom. The overhead light glints off my engorged clit as it thumps with my racing heartbeat. My body aches for her, but still she waits with a grin, watching my eyes, making me say it.

"I'm ready."