Visiting an Old Friend Ch. 04

We don't see each other for a while.

It's okay — we're sleeping together, not dating, and even though it's the best sex of my life, we live across the country from each other and we haven't had a conversation about what we're doing, what we are to each other. Or even whether we're dating other people.

I haven't been. I'm busy, with work and the gym and my friends, and besides that, I'm absolutely in her thrall. I've gone on a few dates here and there, but all it takes is a text message from her during dinner and it's over for me; I can't help but jump to answer. I don't know if she feels the same, because I haven't asked her — but I'm trying to keep it uncomplicated, so I won't.

It's been maybe a month and a half or two months, punctuated by regular messaging — nearly every day, but not always intimate. And then one day I see an email pop into my inbox. It's a flight confirmation.

Bold, I think to myself.

According to this, I'm boarding a flight in a week and a half on a Friday after work, and flying back the following Sunday evening. That's our typical setup; I come for the weekend or she does. Luckily I don't have any plans that I won't be able to move around, but I feel a little huffy that she's being so presumptuous. A few minutes after I receive the flight confirmation, I get another email — it's an e-ticket to a concert. A band I've heard a couple times, some dark alternative rock, on the Saturday evening.

I know she's probably waiting for me to reply in some way, but I refuse to give her the satisfaction of knowing how available I am. I'm at work, so I choose a task and ignore my phone for a while, getting absorbed in finishing it. When I finally come back to my phone an hour later, there's a text from her. I smile despite myself and slide it open.

"Check your email," she says.

"I have," I type back.

She takes a while to type back, and I watch the ellipses as she composes her reply. I imagine her phrasing it and re-phrasing it. Her final message is short. "So?"

I make her wait for my reply, enjoying having the upper hand in this little power game. She's already paid for the tickets, so now she just really needs to know if I'm coming. I want her to agonize over it. I take a moment to think about what I'm going to say before I start typing so she doesn't see me writing. "I'll pack my best sweatpants," I write back.

"Tease," she replies quickly.

Then another message from her: "You know what I like. Miniskirts and heels, slut, and no fucking underwear."

I squirm in my desk chair. It's been way too long.

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When my flight lands and I start the long walk down to arrivals, my heart thuds in my chest, and I wonder why I'm suddenly so nervous. It's not like it's been that much longer since I've seen her than the few times before that. I realize that I'm worried about that magical thing between us — will it be the same? Whatever it is, that perfect chemistry, I find myself desperately needing it. It satisfies something deep inside of me that I didn't know was empty until she filled it.

My anxiety builds and builds until the moment I step out of the folding glass doors that separate the secure part of the terminal from the public arrivals area outside. It sits like a knot, high and tight above my lungs, until I see her. She gives me a lopsided smirk that lights up her eyes and the knot in my chest dissolves immediately.

She stands there with her arms crossed over her chest, in a light sweater and pants, all black, and watches as I walk right up to her, smirking the whole time. When I'm standing right in front of her, she looks me up and down, and now I can see hunger in her eyes and I feel a wave of heat roll over my body. I dressed for her; of course I did. My heeled boots with buckles, a short skirt, a translucent blouse she can see the shape of my bra through. I'm all soft, bare legs and curves, because I wanted her to see me and want me. And she does.

"Hi," she says softly.

"Hi," I reply, and I feel myself blushing like a teenager. Fuck off, I tell myself.

As she takes my carry on from me, her hand brushes mine, and I feel goosebumps spread up my arm. My breath catches. She slides her other hand around my waist and pulls me in, presses her face to my neck and breathes me in. "Mm," she murmurs. "Come on, let's go."

Then she pulls away and holds her arm out; I slide mine through it and she walks me out to a waiting cab.

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For once, she's very, very good in the cab. We sit together in the back seat, her thigh warm against mine as we press next to each other, and she keeps her hands mostly to herself. We chat softly, catching up, and twice she traces her fingers over the spot where the hem of my skirt meets my thigh, sending shivers across my skin, until she catches herself and pulls her hand back into her own lap.

I am aching for her.

When we're in the elevator she keeps her hands in her pockets and watches my lips when I talk. She unlocks the front door of her apartment and flips on a light, pulls my suitcase in, and turns to me. "So, you must be tired — it's okay if you want to head straight to bed —"

I silence her with a kiss. In fact, I throw myself at her, swinging my arms around her neck and drawing her face down to mine. She smiles against my mouth at first, kissing me back chastely, but I bite at her, teasing her, then draw back, grazing her lips with mine and flicking my tongue against her, trying to make her crazy. I succeed only in making myself crazy.

"Fuck you," I mutter against her mouth, and that finally sets her off.

"That word," she says, and kisses me deeply, "in your mouth —" another kiss, "is so hot." Then her tongue is in my mouth and her hands are sliding down my back. She grabs and gropes my ass and then shoves me up against the wall, her lips traveling down to my jaw.

"Yes," I whimper. Finally. "Why do you torture me?"

She laughs and licks at my earlobe, then draws it between her lips to suck and bite it, sending a chill down my spine. "Because it's so easy," she purrs. "Besides, I had to make sure you still wanted me." She slides her hands up into my shirt and I detach from her for long enough to pull it off over my head. She unclasps my bra with a practiced twist of her fingers and I shrug my shoulders to allow it to fall to the ground.

When her lips meet my nipples I suck a breath in through my teeth. I am so sensitive, my nipples are so hard. When she leaves one to move to the other, the cool air of the room hits the wet where her lips were and I gasp. She cups my small breast in her hand and rubs her thumb over the wet peak until I groan.

When she pushes my skirt up over my hips and I feel the heat of her breath on my pussy, I feel my knees get weak, and I brace myself against the wall behind me with my arms. She inhales me and nuzzles her face into my smooth cunt. "Good girl," she says, her words muffled against my skin. "No panties." I run a hand through her soft, short hair.

I'm somehow unprepared for the heat of her tongue on me. She tastes me gently at first, pressing against my hooded clit, and I gasp. After a few moments of teasing she spreads me open with her fingers and licks me top to bottom with a wide press of her tongue. I groan when she flicks against my clit at the top. She takes the hint and repeats this motion, twisting her tongue to play with the little pink bead, teasing it out. I urge her along with little noises: "Mm-hm," "Yes," and other sounds that are more whimpers than anything.

She presses her lips against my clit and gently sucks it into her mouth, using tiny motions of her tongue to worry at it, until I'm gasping and begging. I'm so wet now, a mixture of my juices and her saliva runs in rivulets down my thighs. "Please," I moan.

"Please what?" she says, and when she does it she removes her face from between my legs and I whimper in frustration.

"Pleeeease," I manage. "I need you inside me, please."

She gives my clit another quick flick. "Not sure what you mean..." she teases. "Can you be more specific?"

I reach down with both hands and pull her face into my pussy. "Don't fucking take your mouth off me," I hiss. "Put your fucking fingers inside me and fuck me, right fucking now."

When she slides into me I yell loud enough for the neighbours to hear. I'm so ready, so wet, that her two fingers slip right in, and then she adds a third, and she pistons her arm into me. The rivulet of my juices is dripping down her wrist. "More?" she asks, and I tighten my hold on the back of her head.

"Don't talk," I growl. "Lick my cunt and fuck me. Yes. More. More." I gasp and I moan the last word as she adds her smallest finger, until her whole hand is almost inside me. She moves her arm slowly, up to the knuckles inside me with four fingers, and when I feel her thumb slip into me too, I come hard. I shake and shudder around her as she presses her tongue hard against my clit.

When my body stops quaking I collapse onto the floor, into her arms, nearly naked but for my boots and the skirt hiked around my hips. She kisses me tenderly on the forehead and brings me to bed.

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Saturday is the day of the concert.

She wakes me up with sex, and it feels so good to be back here with her in this bed. We twine, naked and sleepy, her thigh against my bare pussy, and she kisses me deeply and strokes my body until I'm quivering and wet. Then she mounts me, pushing her thigh harder between mine and grinding down into me, her skin slipping against my slit, her pubic hair rough against my clit.

We make out and slide our bodies into each other's for what seems like hours but is probably only twenty minutes, warm and cozy in the bed. When she stops, neither of us has come yet, and I'm left throbbing. She rolls off of me and kisses my mouth, my throat, and my breasts, then gets out of bed and stretches.

I pout and give her my best come-fuck-me eyes, but she laughs at me.

"I don't think so," she says. "I'm hungry. Aren't you hungry?"

I shake my head and continue to pout. "Hungry for you," I say.

She groans. "No way, that was terrible. I can't encourage that kind of cheesy shit." She yanks the blankets off the bed in one quick, fluid motion, and I gasp, suddenly exposed to the cool air in the room.

"How dare you!" I scold her in mock indignation.

She reaches down and smacks my ass. "Get up," she says, and goes to leave the room, but before she does, she looks back at me. "And don't touch yourself, you little slut. I want you horny all day." How did she know that was my plan? I snatch my questing hand out from between my legs and narrow my eyes at her. "Now get out of bed."

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We head to the concert with a small group of her friends. They're all good looking in their own ways, queer artist types who I suspect I may not have a ton in common with. Still, they're nice enough. We have a drink before the show at a bar nearby and I make small talk, chatting with one friend named Ace who's thin and masculine-of-centre, with a shock of light hair. Another woman, Alice, has long dark hair falling over the shoulder of her leather jacket and is wearing dark, smoky eyeliner. She seems to have most of her attention focused on my lover, and I feel a pang of jealousy before I swallow it down. After all, we're here together, and her hand hasn't moved from my waist. She is making it very clear that I belong to her.

We arrive at the venue a bit late, and most of the group hangs back by the bar, but we push forward into the crowd until we're near the stage. I stand in front of her, and as the band comes on, the press of people around us gets more intense; she folds her arms around me, creating a space for me with her body.

The music is very loud, the bass thrumming through us and the crowd surging around us. It's hot and close and the lights are bright, and I feel absolutely invisible in the crowd. That's why I don't mind when she presses her hips into me from behind and starts running her hands over my ribs, my waist, the spot where my pelvic bones jut out, and down. We move like this for a while — she thrusts her hips into me, ostensibly in time with the music, and I press back, arching my back to push my ass into her.

By the time she slips her fingertips into my mouth, I'm already needy with desire for her. I lick and suck on them until they're slick with my saliva, and then she slides her hands down my body and right under the waistband of my skirt. When her wet fingertips run over my already-swollen clit, I gasp aloud, but the music is so loud that no-one can hear me. I'm sensitive, and she's gentle with me at first. She tries dipping her fingertips into the wetness of my slit to lubricate them, but it's a difficult reach in the position we're in, so she brings them out again and slides them into my mouth.

I taste myself on her fingers, and she bites at my ear while I wet them again.

She plays with me slowly, drawing it out as the band plays a few more songs. By the time the set ends and they start playing their encore, I'm so wet I wouldn't care if she threw me over an amp and fucked me right here, but of course she doesn't. The press of the crowd is so tight, the amount of space we have so minimal. She flicks at me gently, bringing me to a state of high arousal, my legs shaking I'm so close. Cliteral orgasms take a long time for me, but she's playing me right at the edge — and then the band finishes. The crowd cheers and she pulls her hand away.

I gasp and groan as she leaves me hanging. She cheers along with everyone else as if nothing has happened, but I frown until the crowd starts to disperse and she loops her arm around my waist to steer me away. "You fucker," I hiss in her ear, punching her arm halfheartedly, and she laughs.

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Despite my protests, we hang out after the show with her friends, too. I'm electric with arousal now, but she and I slide side-by-side into a large group-sized booth at a dim bar a few blocks away. There are five at the table, total, including the two of us. We chat about the show, about other music-related stuff, and I'm pleased to find out I actually have a lot to talk about with Ace, who sits across from me. We're discussing our favourite books when I feel a hand questing over my thigh.

I cast a sharp look in her direction, but she isn't looking at me; instead, her attention is focused on a conversation she's having with Alice and another friend, Caleb. Her left hand is on the table, holding her drink, but her right is in my lap, pushing up under my skirt. We're seated tightly in the small booth, right up next to each other. Despite my better judgment, when her fingertips hit my panties I part my legs slightly to give her better access. I'm only human.

I continue chatting with Ace, but it gets incrementally more difficult as my lover's probing fingers make headway between my thighs. She strokes me through the fabric of my underwear, and I do my best not to purr with pleasure; she's slow and gentle, taking her time, tracing the folds of my labia through the thin fabric as my pussy swells with arousal. I'm in the middle of describing the plot of a book I particularly think Ace will like when I feel her pull my panties to the side with a jerk of her wrist, and just like that, her fingers are on my bare, wet slit.

I gasp.

"You okay? What happened?" Ace asks.

"N-nothing, just remembered something... sorry."

I'm sure my cheeks are flushed, but I continue trying to act casual as she slides her fingers through my wetness and probes at me. I swear I can hear the squelching sound of her moving through my juices and I tighten my thighs around her hand in warning, to try to get her to stop.

She doesn't like being told what to do, which I remember too late.

When I release her, she immediately punishes me by thrusting her fingertip inside of me.

I can't help but gasp again, and Ace looks at me quizzically. All of this is happening underneath the table, completely out of sight, but it's unfathomable to me that it's not absolutely obvious what's going on. I just continue what I was saying as if I hadn't been interrupted by my lover fucking me in public. "It's by this writer I think you'll love..."

She fucks me slowly, her arm moving almost imperceptibly, but she gets surprisingly deep considering the angle. Despite myself I feel my pussy gushing, heat building in my body for the second time tonight.

This continues for a few moments before Alice's voice cuts across the table, interrupting Ace mid-sentence.

"Are you fucking her right now?"

I immediately tighten my thighs and lock down her hand, absolutely mortified to have been caught. Alice is looking at her, her eyes narrowed, and when she gets no response, she looks to me. "Is she fucking you right now?"

I must be scarlet; I can feel the heat on my face. Ace and Caleb are looking from one to the other of us. My lover pulls her hand out from between my legs with some difficulty, but instead of acting sheepish, like I expect, she raises her hand to her mouth and licks her fingers. I elbow her in the ribs and hiss, "Jesus Christ!" at her brazenness.

She just shrugs and smiles at me.

I am so embarrassed, and excuse myself to flee to the bathroom, where I stand, my hands braced against the counter, and try to catch my breath.

I'm embarrassed, but I've also been on the edge of orgasm for what feels like a whole day, so I'm also incredibly aroused.

I've been in there for a minute or two when the door swings open and Alice comes in. She smiles at me in the mirror and leans against the counter.

"Don't worry about it," she says. "Honestly, she's such a fucking perv. She was always trying to do that shit to me too." She shakes her head.

"You guys dated?" I ask. The chemistry I sensed between them makes more sense now.

"Sort of. We fucked, anyway." She shrugs.

I swallow and try to sound casual. "Recently...?"

"Yeah, up until a couple weeks ago. It wasn't bad, but I wasn't into that dirty shit she likes. I mean — if you're into it —," she says, looking at me questioningly. I blush, and she must take it as confirmation, because she says, "I get it. It is hot... it's just not for me. And to tell the truth... I loved watching that. I actually wish I hadn't said anything."

My blush deepens. "Yeah?" I ask.

"Yeah, I mean... if you like it, have fun. I'm more of a voyeur than an exhibitionist, I suppose... and if you want someone to watch you, I might, um —" Now it's her turn to blush. I wait for her to continue. "I might be interested in that," she finishes quietly.

I inhale a shaky breath. "I'll keep that in mind."

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When we get back out to the table, they've paid the bill. Ace has invited us back to their place to have another drink, and my lover pulls me aside.

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you," she says quietly.

"It's okay."

"Is it?" She looks at me, her eyes concerned. I blush.

"I kinda liked it," I admit. She smiles and kisses me deeply.

"Did you?" She murmurs. "Which part — me touching you in front of my friends, or getting caught?"

I kiss her back, and my body quivers with excitement. "The first part, mostly," I say. "It was pretty fucking hot."

"Good," she says against my skin, "because everyone else thought so too."

"What?"

She pulls me closer to her with her arm around my waist. "I have a crazy idea, and please feel free to tell me to fuck right off, but if you're comfortable with it, I think it'd be a lot of fun..."

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Ace's place isn't far. We walk for a few blocks, my lover's arm around me, her lips at my ear whispering dirty, dirty things most of the way.

The apartment is pretty modern, clean lines and minimal furniture. In the living room there's a couch, which we take; a loveseat, which Alice and Caleb take; and Ace pulls a chair in from the dining room to close the circle. They pour us a round of drinks, and I down mine pretty quickly.