Sylvia

Sylvia - that was her name. I don't remember her last name, but it wasn't hers anyway - it was her ex-husband's or soon-to-be-ex-husband's.

I didn't really know much more than that about her, because all I ever heard her say in her halting, deliciously-accented English was, "chHello, Zhay-mie. chHow are ju?" Her friends from the warehouse would tell me, "Sylvia says 'Hello', Jamie!" and "Sylvia thinks you're cute, Jamie!", but they just giggled and told me to ask her when I pressed them for more information. They giggled the same way each time I showed up in the warehouse to fix something and she bounced over to hug me 'hello' in a sort of lingering way that pressed her pert breasts up against my chest. Sometimes the hug ended with a glossy-lipped kiss on the soft part of my neck beneath my ear. I liked those days.

She was a little older than me, but still really cute in a slender, petite way that didn't usually appeal to me in other girls. She always looked great - she wore shirts and jeans that hugged her curves, darkened her lashes to make her speckled brown eyes pop from her toffee-colored face, brushed something over her lips that made them plump and glisteny - even while most of the other girls in the warehouse didn't bother with more than a hair-clip and pull-over sweater. It was enough to make me double-check each morning that my teeth were brushed, my polo wasn't wrinkled, and that I hadn't forgotten the bodyspray. I didn't realize until much later that she she was always primping when I was around, that she was always just putting the lip gloss away because her lookout friend by the stairs had told her I was coming.

The sad thing was that I was too embarrassed to use my four years of high school Spanish to tell her directly how cute she looked cute, how I liked her jeans or her her hair, so our conversations always started bursting with promise, but ended quickly and awkwardly. Still, her part of the warehouse seemed to have an awful lot of things that needed fixing, and I always made it a point to be the one to answer the call.

I couldn't help but grin when I saw her at the office party - I hadn't really expected her there. The warehouse staff had their own party before Christmas, and between the language barrier and the way some departments condescended to the warehouse staff because they were hourly, I guess they felt unwelcome. But there she was in the center of a half-dozen of her friends, all clustered near the punch table when I walked in. Her face lit up and she waved, so I grinned at her and waved back. I headed over toward the punch table as though to scoop myself a cup, but really I hoped to have to brave her teasing friends and maybe even the askance glance of a co-worker if she caught me in a hug.

I wasn't disappointed - her arms spread wide and wrapped around my chest, I caught her around the shoulders and squeezed - and while we lingered some kind of flowery perfume wafted from her hair. Her lips found my neck and I tingled inside, then turned red as her friends tittered while she smudged away a burgundy lipstick. Still, it was worth it. I felt melty inside, and goofy. I bit my tongue so I wouldn't say anything too stupid.

"chHi, Zhay-mie."

I loved the way her mouth formed my name.

"Ju look 'an-some tonight." She beamed with satisfaction once she'd finished the words.

"No, Sylvia - you look cute! Very hot! Your dress... your hair!" I blushed at my own words, but I wasn't just stammering politeness. I'd never seen her so made up before, with deep red lips and her eyelids painted smokey and dark. Her eyes gleamed and seemed to lock mine to her. Her hair - usually pulled back into a lively ponytail - now fell in shining black curls over her shoulders. She wore a green blouse with the buttons open low enough just to show a promise of cleavage, black maryjanes and thigh-highs, and short little pleated skirt that was possibly even more appealing than her skin-tight jeans.

One of her friends translated what I said and she pushed playfully at my shoulder. I can't really remember what happened next, but our conversation must have drifted because an hour and a half later I was standing on the other side of the cafeteria talking to my boss and glancing around for the occasional glimpse of her friends across the room. But it wasn't them I wanted to see again; I wanted to fill my eyes with Sylvia! I wanted to try to talk to her again. Anything to be near her - to feel the electricity of her presence. But I couldn't find her at all, and I started to feel a little sorry for myself that I hadn't had a better opportunity; no, really I was mad at myself for not making an opportunity - it was my fault for being such a heel when clearly she kind of liked me, too. I excused myself for the bathroom - it was the best place to be alone and tell myself just how many types of an idiot I was.

She was waiting in the half-dark of the hallway outside the cafeteria, leaning against the painted cinderblock wall and whispering with one of her friends.

"Zhay-mie!"

The unexpected sight of her, the sound of her voice, set my blood pumping and made me a little weak-kneed and goofy. So much for resolve.

Her friend disappeared while she clopped across the cement floor, stopping close enough that I thought she was going to hug me again. Instead she put her small hand - her fingers were too delicate for warehouse work, I thought - on my chest. "I need for ju to chhelp me. In the Shipping Office. Five minutos, o-kay?" And then she was gone - slipped down the dark stairwell that went to the warehouse.

I went to the bathroom. My heart was pounding, my palms sweating. I didn't have any reason to be nervous - except for the fact that the hottest woman who had ever said my name had just invited me back into a dark corner of the warehouse for something that probably started with mistletoe and ended in one of a hundred different fantasies - or in one of a hundred ways I could embarrass myself. I stared at myself in the mirror over the sink and forced my face to relax. I needed to stay cool. I splashed water on my cheeks and scrubbed them dry, but I still looked like a nervous dork.

The warehouse was dark, and I knew my way around just well enough to avoid tripping on the pallets littering the walkways. The lights in the shipping office were completely out; even cupping my hands over my eyes I couldn't see a thing through the windows, so I pulled the door open and stepped through.

A soft, small hand found mine and pulled me completely inside. The door shut and the hand crooked behind my neck and a pair of lips closed over mine and, oh! the luscious warm heaven of a first kiss swelled within me. I kissed her back, first touching her arm, then slipping my hand behind her back until we were both out of breath and gasping. Then she caught my cheeks between her hands and we were kissing again; her lips opened and the little tip of a hot tongue flicked out and teased my lips and teeth.

She laughed - it sounded half-relieved and half-exultant. "I am glad! Glad that ju come!"

"Yo tambien!" rolled from my tongue in an embarrassingly goofy fashion, and I leaned back in, eager for another taste of the lips I was already addicted to.

But she was pulling me further into the room, away from the windows and door. My eyes had adjusted to the dark just enough that I kept from stumbling before she pushed me down into the thread-bare couch in the front of the office - some patchy re-upholstered leftover from an ex-employee's moving sale. It was my favorite furniture in the world at that moment. She had settled into my lap, straddling my thighs so she could wrap her arms around my shoulders and kiss me again. She was deliciously aggressive with her mouth, sucking my lower lip between her own, nipping at my chin and jaw, nibbling on my outer ear. I could feel her lipstick all over my lips and cheeks - in my mind each smudge of her lips on my skin was a glowing badge of lust fulfilled. Her scent - the perfume of her heavy black hair - the gentle, powdery smell of her makeup - and something more musky, more animalistic - filled my nose. I breathed deeply - I wanted to fill my lungs, too. My lips found her neck as she nibbled my ear, and I discovered the soft skin beneath her jawline to be intoxicatingly supple.

My kisses descended down her slender neck and she moaned, rolling back her head and arching her shoulders to bare her collarbone to me.

"Ai, Zjay-mie!" Her hands found mine on her hips and firmly relocated them up to her chest, cupping them over her apple-sized breasts while she hurriedly disentangled more buttons and pulled wide the neck of her shirt. Smooth, creamy-tan skin flowed down from her neck and poured into the black lacy frills at the top of her bra. Even through the cotton of her shirt I felt her nipples stiffening before she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled my head down to her chest, to the nipples that now strained to free themselves from the sheer black confines of the bra...

"Shh!" Her breath caught and she froze, head perked to listen.

I held her in place, my lips hesitating just above the curve of her breast. "What is it?"

"Mierde! Vamanos." Wrapping her shirt back around her, she grabbed my wrist and slipped from my lap to retreat further into the Shipping Office - and into the supply closet in the back wall. She'd just pulled the door shut when I heard the glass door to the office open and the shrill laugh of the Owner's daughter, muffled by the closet door but clearly drunk, and the slurred voice of her date. A bright blue glow flashed beneath the supply closet door as the copy machine surged to action.

It was completely dark in the closet, and I could feel the odd angles of boxes crowding me from either side. Sylvia's body squirmed distractingly ahead of me - she was pulling me up against her. I felt a hand press lightly against my lips, urging me to silence, while her other hand took mine and pressed it against her, slipping it beneath her shirt and against the flesh of her breast. Her heart was beating heavily; her breath rose and fell with silent excitement.

She slid my hand down further, over the slight curve of her belly, over the pleats of her skirt until my fingers brushed the warm skin of her bare inner thigh. She grabbed my fingertips and pulled them back up, between her legs, until I was rubbing against the slick nylon of her panties. She moaned - too low in her chest to be heard by the raucous couple outside - as my fingers found and massaged the wet and slightly sticky spot between her legs.

For a gloriously long moment my hand worked silently against the mound beneath her panties, and I held my breath so I could hear hers clearly beneath the mechanical rodeo of the copier. Then she'd pulled my hand free and raised it to her mouth; her warm lips closed over my middle fingers and suckled.

I nearly giggled at the pleasure of it, but managed to compose myself enough for a single ragged breath.

Then her own hands returned beneath her skirt and she was touching herself, squirming against me for a moment until her fingers pressed into my mouth and introduced her musky tang to my tongue. I sucked her fingers clean.

Leaning very close to me she breathed into my ear, "You like?"

"Yes," I agreed, too eagerly, almost hissing.

Her lips found and pressed to mine, kissing hungrily while she pushed down on my shoulders. It took me a moment to realize she was pushing me down to my knees, guiding my head down beneath her lifted skirt. I sank down to a crouch, then to a kneel between reams of paper and shipping labels, and even before my lips open testingly over her panties she was pressing up against my face, pushing the slick panties and the plump flesh beneath into my mouth.

I sucked the juices from her panties, then stretched them aside and thrust my tongue into the slit of her pussy; she responded with a shiver and groan that certainly would have been heard by the Owner's daughter if she wasn't so drunkenly loud herself. Sylvia leaned forward onto my face like it was a saddle and ground down, testing the weight of her hips against the strength in my neck. She was light enough that I could have lifted her, but I don't know that she would have cared - with each circling, mashing swipe that her pussy made over my tongue, she became more aggressive. She kept shifting in a search for balance and leverage, pushing my face further beneath her, hooking a leg over my shoulder and squeezing my cheeks between the supple, now slippery skin of her thighs. Her fingers twisted into my hair and gripped; she was breathing heavily, moaning impatiently, whispering something encouraging in Spanish.

My hands finally slid up the back of her thighs to grab her ass and pull her against my open mouth; she responded with a delighted growl and a newly urgent humping thrust.

My face was already soaked with her juices when she seem to finally find just the right position to give her clit the friction it needed between my tightened lips; her swollen pussy was flowing and she began to gasp.

Then she fell. She must have grabbed something loose on the shelf for leverage, because a box clattered to the floor behind her as she suddenly slipped off my mouth. Her thighs clenched tightly around my head while I caught her back and kept her from toppling to the floor in front of me. I froze, expecting to hear something from the couple outside the door, but Sylvia only hissed and cursed.

"Chingalo! Down! Down! On jur back - Jes!"

I hurriedly twisted and shifted until I was laying on my back beneath her; she frantically kicked her panties to the side and fell on top of me, dropping to a kneeling squat that shoved my pointed tongue between her labia and crammed the bulb of my nose up against her clit. She breathed through her teeth as she found just the right spot again and twisted down onto my face like she wanted my head completely inside her, clutching at my shirt and chin. Her thighs clenched and stiffened, her grip on my chin became rigid, and then she gasped and bit back a scream.

At last she relaxed and giggled; I sucked in my first deep breath in a minute. She slid back until her swollen pussy lips lightly brushed my forehead and she patted my drenched cheek and touched her fingertips to my mouth. "Good boy. Good, good." She knelt now and leaned forward until her arms rested on my stomach. Her pussy slid forward and gingerly grazed against my lips before jerking away. "Lamer mi panocha. Lick. Lick it. Zhentle. Zhently."

She hovered just above my tongue, gasping and pulling away each time like I had an ice cube in my mouth. Each time I waited until I could feel her again, just millimeters away, trembling with anticipation, and I ran the tip of my tongue along the slit between her labia until it neared her clitoris and she jerked away with a laughing yelp.

I stretched my ears to listen beyond the closet door. I didn't hear anyone now - maybe they'd finished their ass-copying debauchery out there and we could move back out to the couch, but I didn't get a chance to voice my suggestion: suddenly I was the one gasping. Her hands had slipped into my pants while she lay over my stomach, and she'd been squeezing at the thick lump in my shorts, but now she'd pulled my cock free and closed the wet heat of her mouth over the tip.

My hips surged of their own accord, but she'd taken it from her lips and seemed to be regarding it as a curiosity in the darkness. I felt her tongue twirl around the head before it slid down the shaft, which had become very hard and rigid and hopeful.

I groaned, and her hips pushed down against my face - my distraction had made her more insistent than shy again. This time I had a better idea what she wanted me to do with my tongue and lips, so while her mouth plunged over the head of my cock, I flicked the hardened tip of my tongue against the bead of her clit until she was practically bouncing on my face, grinding in quick, jerky circles and muttering naughty-sounding Spanish I couldn't even begin to remember. I loosened my tongue - she'd lost focus on my cock and now just held it by a deathgrip near the base, keeping it achingly hard without providing any release. But she only became more forceful, mashing herself down onto my mouth until I was paid her the proper attention and she was squealing and spasming and squeezing my chin between her thighs and ass.

At last she sat back on her heels and sighed happily. "Good. I like ju, Zhay-mie. Me gusta mucho." She seemed to suddenly remember her grip on my cock, because she let it go with a little pat.

"Sylvia! What about..." I glanced down at the obelisk toppling toward her ...and saw the silhouettes of two of her friends beyond the now-ajar closet door.

She laughed, and picked through her words slowly while I scrambled to button my pants. "Ju tease me - todos los dias. I tease ju. Jes' a little." She licked her lips and giggled as she rose quickly to her feet, snatching up her balled panties from beside her head. She pushed the door completely open, and her silhouette joined her friends'. "I like ju," she repeated while her friends stifled titters. "Again. Ju an' me. Pronto." And then I heard three pairs of heels clop quickly across the cement floor of the Shipping Office, and hurry out the door into the warehouse.

I lay on my back and groaned.