The Wait

"I'm 18," I replied to the waiter.

"Oh, congratulations! No longer a minor, huh? Well, have fun today."

"I will." I smiled one of the snottiest smiles I could manage. It worked. The waiter went straight to my parents' orders.

One of the problems I always had with empathy was when I knew someone had the hots for me and I didn't return the feeling. I developed the snobby persona to weed out most of them. I was born attractive enough that this was a problem. I supposed if I were ugly, I'd complain about attractive women who hated being attractive. For me, though, it was always just that I could tell when men I didn't like were attracted to me. I certainly didn't begrudge men being attracted to me, if I liked them, in return.

My parents took me out to dinner and bought me a cake. I'd had a separate celebration with friends earlier.

Mom and Dad weren't rich by any means, but they went out of their way for my eighteenth birthday. They even managed to save enough money to buy me a used Toyota. It was a newish model with power everything. I was in love with my car more than I was any men I knew. I intended to keep it that way, but fate is sometimes funny about things like that. There certainly was one man I was completely obsessed with, but I never expected him to even notice me, so I thought I had chosen someone very safe to lust after. It was after dinner ended and we were home that I got the phone call that would change my mind.

"Hello," I answered.

I heard the voice of my obsession on the other end. My pussy was wet in an instant. He said, "Happy birthday, little girl."

"Thanks. So, uh, you want to talk to my dad?" I immediately felt like a fool. I could hear how foolish I was in my voice. This man, named Martin, worked with my father for just over ten years. I thought about how I'd developed my first crush on him when I was eight years old. He was tall, dark, and handsome at 29, and remained perfect to my eye, in the following ten years.

"No, actually, I wanted to talk to you. I thought I'd see if you wanted to go down to The Buzz with me."

I was stunned. This was the first hint he ever made that he was the slightest bit interested in me. I thought about making up an excuse to stay home. I didn't feel confident with myself at all. In one instant, all my hopes and dreams were being answered, and here, I was trying to run away. I stopped myself from backing out of it. It was just a coffeehouse. If things got too sticky, I could leave. I had my own car, and I was free to do as I chose, now.

"Yes, I'll meet you down there. Say in an hour?"

"Uh, well, an hour? Okay, I can do that. See you at ten, then."

"See you at ten."

Mom and Dad didn't hear the conversation. I wondered if I should lie. I thought about how things would be if my father thought of me on a date with his coworker. Albeit, Martin was younger than my father, but still older than me, and he was my father's coworker. I decided against telling my parents I was going to meet him. I left it at "friends" and didn't specify which ones. They were lenient with me in my late teens. I had never been a problem child. Sure, I had my moments, but I'd proven myself trustworthy, so far. Now I was eighteen and I'd never let them down.

I drove down to the college campus area. The coffeehouse was just across from the dorms. It was close enough to the street with the tattoo parlors and the independent record stores, and yet right across from campus. They had a healthy taste of both the underground crowd and college dwellers. I had been there with friends many, many times. They sold records and CD's upstairs, and coffee and light menu items downstairs. I dressed appropriately in black, baggy clothes. I primped my dyed-black curls, and applied a little vanity make-up. As far as I was concerned, I looked damned good. I'd never be a super model, but I'd found men didn't need supermodels. They needed people like me. This discovery had come after a long fight with myself over whether I was attractive or not. High school had been cruel, but since graduation I'd had the attention of more men than I ever thought possible. I never lacked for a date in the last two months, and I never worried about what I was going to do on any given night. I was starting to enjoy the attention that surrounded me.

I found a spot in the parking lot near a gas station. I walked briskly to the coffee/record shop, along Jefferson, under the bright lights. I was bursting with both joy and nervous anticipation. I still had a trembling fear that Martin wouldn't show up. I repeated to myself, "Oh, god, if Martin doesn't show up, I hope there's someone there that I know, instead." There was a likely chance that someone would be there. I still longed to see those almond eyes peer at me, instead of being stood up.

I was greeted by my friend, Kelly, almost as soon as I walked in the door.

She squealed, "Ara!" She then ran at me full speed ahead. She spun me around in a hug. She asked, "What are you doing here? I thought after your parents' dinner you were going to stay in tonight."

"I'm meeting someone here."

"Oh, I seeeeeeee. Who?"

I looked around. It would do no good to say his name. I made a gamble that he was there already and waiting for me to notice him. Sure enough, in a seat by the window, he was sitting by himself. I pointed for Kelly's benefit.

"Oh, my. Okay. Well, have fun." Kelly strolled off to the table with her two friends.

I sat across from Martin. I smiled and tried to infuse a sparkle in my eye that he might notice. He looked at me, and gave me a soft smile. Immediately, I started to feel his attraction to me. It was a nice reassurance. I put my hands together, and looked at him to wait to see if he wanted to start the conversation. One of the servers interrupted us, though. I ordered a cappucino and the apathetic-eyed server left us.

"Did you already order?" I asked.

"Yes, I did. I wasn't quite sure you were going to show up."

"Funny, I was thinking the same thing. I didn't even know you knew I existed."

"Good act, wasn't it? If you didn't notice, then I know no one else noticed."

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

He raised his eyebrows at me and creased his forehead. He made it seem like I asked the dumbest question ever. He finally blinked dramatically at me. He said, "Oh, I don't know, maybe because I didn't like being known as the dirty old man."

"Old?"

"You heard me..." He paused, the continued, "I did hope you had noticed me. I finally figured out that you did notice me about a year ago. I caught you watching me intensely, when you came by with your dad one day. It was just after you and what's-his-name broke up."

"Oh god, you knew about Kevin?"

"It drove me nuts to know about him, but yes, I did." There was almost a singsong quality to his voice. He was indignant and a little jealous.

That warmed my heart. I said, "Aw, that's so sweet, Marty."

"Oh, please don't call me that."

"Martin, then," I said, accenting it with a slight sarcasm.

"Much better," he smiled.

"So, been keeping an eye on me this whole time. I wish I'd known! I was so obsessed with you - since I was 8. You were my first crush. And my longest crush."

He blushed at me, but it faded quickly. His hand came up under the table and stroked my knee. The feeling was delicious. It had been over a year since I broke up with Kevin. I had dated but I hadn't been touched in all that time. To have the one person I had spent years building fantasies about touch me was wonderful and painful all at once. I let my mouth open a little as I sighed. A mischevious smile broke out on his lips. I mirrored him, and gave him my own brand of mischevious smile.

He said, "I'm about ready to just dump this place and take you home and ravish you right now. You should be careful who you flash that smile at."

"I know." I just grinned right back at him, in mock innocence.

"I've been waiting a long time for you to smile like that at me."

"Well, I have to pay for this cappucino, so you better let me finish it first. Then we can go to your place, if you'd like."

Part of him still seemed to struggle. I thought maybe I had been too upfront about my lust for him. He might be intimidated by it, or think I was just a big, old slut who would sleep with anyone that came along. I watched him make a couple frowns.

He finally said, "You know, you don't have to come back with me. I mean, we can take this slowly, if you want. I don't mean for you to think I was just sitting around waiting for a virgin to corrupt, legally."

"Well... I'm not a virgin you can corrupt, in the first place... But I don't mean for you to think I've had sex with everyone I've dated. I... well... how would I say this politely?"

"Don't be polite, then."

"I mean I've had it bad for you since I was eight, and I don't see the point in waiting around anymore." Part of me hoped I would stop being obsessed with him after we had sex. Another part of me hoped it would lead into a hell of a lot more than an illicit affair. Either way, I wasn't lying about wanting to go back to his house with him.

"Too bad about your virginity..." There seemed to be a shadow in the back of his mind as he said that.

"Yes, it is. John really didn't deserve it."

He nodded at me. "I bet I could do better." He got that mischevious smile on his face again. I laughed.

"That's the spirit. I bet you could, too."

"Let's get out of here, and I'll show you."

He was quite serious with the last statement. I felt a zing of pleasure run through me.

We gulped the hot liquids we had ordered, and then I followed him down the road to a tall building that had a view of the city down below. We went up to the thirteenth floor. He let me into his apartment, and as soon as he closed the door, he had me backed up against that door. His tongue taught me how to kiss him in just seconds. He liked force. He liked to be in control. I was happy to comply with his desires. My body responded to him with its own force. I didn't even feel like I was part of me, anymore. I floated along, as his hands unbottoned my shirt and pushed away my bra. I was minimally aware that my black jeans and my black, lace panties were on the floor, now. He ran his hands up my body, and he forced my hands into the air, up against the door. He backed up and thoroughly took in the entire sight. He seemed pleased with what he saw.

I kept my hands in the air, and just looked at him study my body. A raging desire blossomed inside me. I held his eyes in mine, and the entire world faded. He finally broke his stare at me. He took one of my hands and led me deeper into the apartment. My heart beat hard as I watched him undress when we reached the bedroom. I took a long, deep breath as he finally stood before me naked. I waited impatiently as he spent another few minutes touching me. He turned my body into an object. He started at my mouth, and pushed his finger in and out. He trailed it down to the wet crevice between my legs. He watched me as I moaned and let out soft cries each time his finger slowly fucked me. He stopped this just to go a little further down, and circle the extremely delicate flesh of the most taboo of holes.

I was barely breathing when his mouth came back to mine. He stabbed me with his tongue, over and over, and allowed my tongue to caress him. When he broke away, my mouth still wanted something to latch on to. I found myself lightly stroking his neck with my tongue. I started at his shoulder and trailed up to his ear. I bit the lobe and then cupped my mouth on his neck. He backed up a bit, and guided me to his chest. I licked the skin up and down his torso. I trembled at how the flesh felt so soft and edible under my tongue. I licked up from the happy trail to the top of his sternum. I landed on his nipples, and found he was extremely sensitive. I wanted to bite at them as soon as I realized how vulnerable this made him feel. My tongue led me away from his nipples, and I bathed him even more. I let my tongue crawl to his cock. I wet him inside my mouth.

"Oh, little girl... I want you, I want you, I want you." He murmurred this as I sucked at his cock. I let this go one for a little while, before I broke the kiss with his cock.

"Do you want to fuck me?" I asked.

"Of course I want to fuck you. I've been waiting ten years for the chance."

"You want me to pretend I'm 8, again?" I teased.

"No, just pretend I'm your first."

This thought made me laugh. My first time was awful. I had been so timid and tight that the entire thing just hurt and made me swear off sex forever. That hadn't lasted, and later, it was quite pleasurable. That first time had been terrible, though.

"No, let's just make this first time between us all that much better," I finally replied.

"That, I think I can manage."

He pushed me away from him. His head went between my legs. At first, I cringed at the thought of his mouth on me. Those who had a chance to do that to me had been just as bad as all the men in porno videos. The trick they didn't want to comply with was the extreme sensitivity of the clit, and that the tongue needs to find a way to touch indirectly. I struggled with the idea of pushing him away. He looked up at me and said, "Trust me," though, and I just laid back. I was ready to put up with it.

To my complete surprise, his tongue lapped at me gently and caressed me passionately, but perfectly. The sensation was almost too much pleasure. I felt my body build into an orgasm before I knew what was happening. I cried out his name.

"Oh, Martin, Martin, YES!" I then whispered, "Fuck me. Please, fuck me, now." The orgasm hadn't been enough. I just wanted more of him.

He stood over me and pulled me to the edge of the bed. He stood between my legs. I wrapped my legs around him, and he started to let his cock push inside me. Then, unexpectedly, he forced himself into me, sliding easily, but powerfully deep. He groaned at me.

"Too long. I waited for too long. This feels so fucking good," he whimpered. He cried out in a steady stream, "Fuck, fuck, fuck... Wanted you the whole time. 8 to 18... Wanted you."

"Fuck me, then. Keep that cock of yours inside me and let go."

He slowed his pace more, instead. An unexpected finger touched my asshole. It circled the flesh again, and pressed into me slightly. Another wave started to crest inside my body, and he finally let himself go. He forced his cock into me over and over, and my body was ready to let go, too. My pussy spasmed under the blows of his cock. I felt the waves strike inside me, a thousand and one times. He pulled himself out of my pussy, and warm fluid spilled out of him, uncontrollably. He laid down over my body. His hands ran up and down the length of my body. My mind floated in ecstacy. I knew this was just the start of something I'd only ever dreamed about for the last ten years. He reached for a towel in a basket at the end of his bed. He cleaned up his spill, threw the towel back to the basket and continued his exploration of my body.

"You know you're perfect, don't you?" he asked.

I laughed, "No, not perfect. Good, but I'll never be on a runway."

"That's not perfect, to me. You are."

I could feel blood flood my cheeks.

"Well, I must not be too bad for a 40 year old. You're positively glowing."

"You're not 40 yet."

"Close enough."

"No grays, no wrinkles, and your birth certificate says you'll be in your thirties for another seven months. Don't add time you haven't had, yet! But yeah, you're a hell of a lot better than the boys my age."

He smiled. "I know. That's the only benefit of getting older. More experience means better sex. So, like I said, not bad for a 39 year old."

I smiled evilly at him. I'd won that little battle over his age.