Warren's Women 03byParis Waterman©
His hand was poised to knock for the first time when the trailer door opened. Abby stood there smiling at him, her perky breasts pushed against the Grateful Dead T-shirt she wore.
"Come on in," Abby said. "Take a load off. I happened to see you getting out of the 'vette."
Warren entered the trailer, bending even though it wasn't necessary. His piercing brown eyes digested everything about her. He was trying to disguise the hunger within him, but it would have been evident to the most casual observer and there was nothing casual about Abby.
Abby was a stripper at Platinum Gold, a Gentleman's Club on the outskirts of the city. At the moment, she was wearing red running shorts and sandals along with the 'T'. Her hair was stacked in no particular order. Bobby pins mix and match.
Abby was holding a paperback and wearing a Walkman. He looked at her quizzically.
"I tune in between the stations, she said, "get some white noise and get into my hot read."
"What is it?" Warren asked with interest. Abby showed him the cover - 'Orgasms a Plenty' - her finger held her place halfway in.
"Dibs on the book," he grinned.
"Only if I can watch you read it," she said mischievously. A lewd glint flashed across her eyes and he caught it. "I'm half way through."
"I'd like to be half way there myself," he smiled, his eyes slowly devouring her body from head to toe. "And then some," he concluded.
He was fully aware some women detested this treatment. He didn't count Abby among them.
"Wouldn't you tho," she said, secretly pleased with him.
He studied her. From the razor line on her thigh where she'd stopped shaving, up to her neck and the wisps of dirty blonde hair clinging there; to the way she cocked her head when he spoke, as though giving careful consideration to each word he uttered.
She took him in. The extra large sized hands, chest hair curling out of his sport shirt, to the swimming pool deep eyes that drew her closer; and the warrior's nose. Abby reflected "He must've got that broken over a woman," and softly sighed.
They sat down in the kitchen. Silence reigned for about three minutes as they contemplated one another.
"I thought you'd call before dropping in," Abby said breaking the silence. She didn't mind his dropping in unannounced, didn't feel self-conscious about her appearance either.
Warren noted this and filed it away in his strategy book.
"Grab a chair Warren. Want a Bud?"
"That'd be nice, thank you," he said, glancing around the kitchen and noting that it was used frequently. The kitchen had a comfortable feeling about it.
Abby handed him a can of Budweiser, then reached back into the cooler and withdrew one for herself as well. His started to sweat immediately and he watched it puddle around the base of the can.
"Balmy, isn't it?" Warren said, breaking the silence. He was running his index finger along the condensation, looking at her with renewed interest. Then he looked around and found a pile of coasters in the center of the table alongside the salt and peppershakers. He took two, slid one to Abby and placed a Bud on his and turned his full attention back to Abby.
"Maybe," she countered, sipping her beer, and then placing it on her coaster. "But let's work up to it gradually."
"Oh?" Then he caught it, squinted at her and smiled. "You're pretty quick," he said, lifting the can to his mouth.
"So did you come over here just for a free beer, or what?" she said, and took a swig of her beer watching his face as she swallowed.
"I was hopin' for more than what this seems like."
"Well, to me . . . umm, seems like I'm fillin' out a questionnaire."
"No doubt you are," she said smiling, her shoulders were pulled back to accentuate her small breasts and her nipples could be discerned through the light gray material. Abby took another swallow of her beer. She was obviously enjoying herself.
The Walkman now lay on the table with no apparent station tuned in; static fizzed away. Warren edged closer, and Abby felt a slight tingle within her body. The smile in her eyes said she knew this would happen.
"So what'cha been doing with yourself since that night at King Neptune's?" she asked as she curled her legs under her and licked her lips.
"Was that the night I taught you how to play that game?"
"Yeah, boy," she laughed loudly while her fingernails scratched the fabric of her red shorts. "You're a good teacher you are."
Abby cleared her throat and continued. "Only the regulars could make the damn thing land on the nail, but you showed me how in three tosses, and I was a regular champ at it after that."
Shyly Warren responded. "Well, once you know how . . ."
"Sure," she said interrupting him, "but showing someone that fast ain't easy. That's why I gave you my number and address. I wanted to see you again."
Gracefully, Abby got up from the table and glided to the cooler. "Wanna join me in another brew?"
"Sure, but aren't you worried about your figure? Most girls I ...."
"I'm a dancer. Didn't you know that?"
"No," he said, startled but pleased. "I didn't."
"At the Platinum Club," Abby said tentatively.
"That's interesting," Warren said, "I, err, don't usually go to those clubs." He put his hands up in a defensive posture and said, "It's not that I'm against them or anything like that - hell they're great, but I..." he paused, trying to determine if his next words would hurt her feelings, then went on. "The purpose of those clubs is to make horny guys feel a little better about themselves; and make some bread besides. I don't mind that, in fact it's a good thing really. It's just that I don't need it. I find my, err, relationships in other places."
"Like King Neptune's?" Abby asked, eyes sparkling.
"Yeah, like King Neptune's, teaching a sweet young thing how to play a silly game. But since you brought the subject up, I gotta tell you you've got a sensational body. It's evident you take good care of it. In fact, I'll bet those are the first beers you've had since the night at Neptune's."
The room was still and silent as Abby digested his words. "He was right about the beers," she thought, "he might be right for her too."
Waiting for Abby to break the silence, Warren glanced out the kitchen window as a beer-bellied neighbor wearing an undershirt and pajama bottoms came out of his house to sit down in a rocker on his front porch armed with a six-pack and Hustler magazine.
"Ah love," Warren thought, "it's everywhere." He took another sip of beer.
She put a finger to her lower lip and said, "Let's talk about, ummm... kissing."
"I'm game;" he said, his eyes locked on hers. I'd rather do than... but whatever...."
"Let's talk about G-spots," she said, feeling her body beginning to flush and discovering she'd finished another beer. Her mind on other things, she tossed the empty at the trash can, but missed and ignored it as it rolled across the kitchen floor, ending its journey at the table leg near her foot.
He sat still, watching her; inhaling her, and waited for her next move.
Abby didn't appear to be nervous, and eventually she looked him in the eye and said, "So, you want to begin or shall I?"
Begin what, he thought, thinking of all his past frustrations, but shrugged them off contemplating the new experience before him, and said, "Can't we move over to the couch and let things take care of themselves?"
"I don't know about that," Abby said with a feigned pout. "I was talkin' about talking."
"How 'bout a compromise?"
"I'm listening," she said, pulling her shoulders back again.
Here come the boobs again, Warren thought, but he said, "We go to the couch for oh... say fifteen minutes, see how it goes. If it goes okay, we fill out the rest of your questionnaire."
"You think you're that good a kisser?
"It's worth a try." Abby smiled at him, her hands laced together, chin propped up on them, one thumb slowly rolled along her lower lip. He sipped his beer and waited. She unlaced her hands, stood up and walked over to the couch in the living room, and stood there while Warren looked back over his shoulder. Her lips came apart with a soft snap. She put her weight on one leg, gave a subtle shift of her hips. Warren stood and quickly moved to her.
They kissed for maybe ten minutes before Warren conceded she was the best kisser he'd ever met despite the bad springs poking into his thigh.
She sat close beside him, a Cheshire grin on her face; and that grin had come forward into his face until it became his. Her lips parted, and her feathery tongue slid into his mouth, leisurely and strong. And then they were both sipping from deep within each other's soul. Abby, running her tongue in and out of Warren's mouth, her hot saliva mixing with his, slowly fucking his tongue, then biting his lips. Warren forced her to retreat as his tongue flowed like a river into her mouth. They clung to one another on the couch for minutes, magically tied by their tongues, wrestling for control in a battle neither could win, nor wanted to win.
Dusk was ending when Warren rose from the couch to make a trip to the bathroom. When he came out, Abby wasn't on the couch. He stood in the living room for a minute, scratching his stomach and listening to the lawn mower outside, and then he smiled and strode down the carpeted hall to the bedroom.
Abby was lying on the bed. She'd turned down the sheets and taken off her sandals. She wasn't smiling, nor did she appear anxious. She was looking at him with great interest, perhaps even mild curiosity. The last remnants of daylight poured through the faded shades and across her legs as Warren came across to her and squatted beside the bed. There was mint on her breath now as she brought her face close to his.
She reached out, and her fingertip strayed lightly across his lips, drew a ticklish line down his throat to his collarbone. He touched her blondish hair at her temple; brushed it back from her face. She took her hands away from him, leaned back on the bed and ran her hands across her smallish breasts. Her nipples were outlined against the fabric of her blouse.
A dreamy current came into her voice. "It's been a very long time."
"Has it? Then I'd better be good, hadn't I?" He stood still, and watched as she sat back up, reached out and unzipped his khaki pants and pulled them down. He was responding quickly. She drew down his jockey shorts and reached through his legs and took a cool but firm grip on his balls, bringing him a half-foot closer to her. With a languorous sigh, she took him into her minty mouth.
Oh, that minty mouth he thought, as he became solid. She held him in place, enjoying him, listening to the sound of his breathing intensify.
Her tongue rolled over his swollen head, her thumb and one finger circled his balls and one finger stroked the seam of flesh hidden beneath. All Abby wanted now was to control his pleasure, to drive him to the highest heights of sensuous feeling. She wanted him to ache for the feel of her warm, wet mouth wrapped around his cock.
Warren closed his eyes and a hot rush of air filled his lungs. His heart jumped. Abby stayed there, using her hands; her thin cool fingers; nails raking him lightly across his flesh, finding some new notes; pushing his blood up an octave.
Later, he massaged her skull with his fingertips and watched through half-closed eyes as she rode him, sweet, strong and happy. Ahhhhhh, the wonders of calimar, he thought blissfully, his hand moving to graze along the innermost part of her thigh.
Ultimately, Abby rose up and drew off her T-shirt. Warren helped by rolling her running shorts down across the flare of her hips then undid his own shirt while watching her stand nude before him. She was watching him too, all of him, and already breathing hard. When he was naked too, she stepped forward and kissed him on the mouth, her lips opening, sliding her tongue beneath his. He kissed her back. The mintiness was gone. On her breath all he could taste was himself.
Later still, they were both lying in the bed. Warren, propped up on an elbow, was gently touching Abby's left nipple, he thought it a slippery ruby. Abby experienced a shiver with each successive touch. He scrutinized her hair spread out against the white pillow and spoke quietly in the half-dark room.
"A girl once told me that sex was like riding a roller coaster." He paused; she made a humming, contented sound. He said, "You can tell how well you did by how loud they screamed."
"Yeah?" she said, opening her bluish-gray eyes briefly then closed them. Her voice was husky, "How'd we do?"
"I think we both done good," Warren said smiling.
"How do you know?"
Four, maybe five dogs yapped and howled across the street.
"We did that?" She chuckled and closed her eyes again.
"They started when we started; about an hour ago."
Halfway into her drowsy drifting off to sleep, she mumbled, "Is that all it was? One hour?"
He touched her hair; it was thick hair, but much softer than it looked; and her other hair was even softer, a tangle of rosy gold, scented with something, perhaps Jasmine? He wondered. The aroma was on his cheeks too, and with every breath it seemed stronger.
He leaned over the edge of the bed and brought the top sheet back and shook it quietly into place, tucking it in and around her. She dug her face into her pillow and reached for him. He lay down and she brought her head to his chest, frittering until she found the most comfortable fit. Then she slept.
Abby rested a hand on his shoulder and touched a finger to the back of his neck. Smiling, she ran her finger down along his collarbone.
"It's a good size," she said, "comfortable but not too big." Her head lay on his bare chest as she gazed down at his flaccid member. Starlight glistened on the dampness of her pubic hair.
"I can't take any credit for it," he said. I was born this way."
They both laughed, and she lifted her head and kissed him again. Then she drew a slow line from his Adam's apple to his navel. And then began a delicate journey into his pubic hair, lingering there, combing out the snarls. He shifted beneath the sheet and opened himself to her.
She cupped him, jiggled him lightly. "Don't you remember?" she said. "It's not the size of the ship that counts. It's the motion of the ocean."
While they chuckled in the dark, his right hand returned to the moist place he had found before. The place that made her shut her eyes and clench the sheets while tossing her head back and forth. The place that made her throat quake and body quiver. He touched her lightly there, teasing her, before lowering himself slowly down her body, bringing his gifted tongue to her; separating her thickened folds with his fingers, and tasted again that tart jasmine flavor in her juices and scent.
Abby lifted her legs, bringing her knees to her chest, and embraced him with one arm, her other arm slung out across the bed. Warren continued toying with her drawing the alphabet with his tongue, flicking it here, flattening it there, probing in that mysterious 'other' place.
Abby moaned when she felt him vanishing into her dampness,fading, dissolving then disappearing as she writhed, twisted and trembled and finally began speaking in a garbled tongue.
And his tongue answered her. She brought her feet down, pressing them firmly on the floor. Lifting her hips, she pressed her shoulders back and ground herself against his mouth. He mashed his mouth tighter, snorting like a pig to bring air into his lungs. In time, he raised himself from her and looked up across her belly and breasts at her lust-ridden face. Abby smiled back at him with primeval lewdness.
He met her eyes for a moment then closed them, returning his mouth to her; fastening himself there. And as she sighed then moaned anew, he remained busy, shaping and reshaping the fit of his mouth upon her, intensifying the pressure, slowing the pace, until he felt a flutter escape from her, a sudden flare of heat as she raised her hips from the bed and he raised his face with her. She shivered, snarled and snorted. A slow crescendo of distressed cries emanated from her as if she were losing her balance on a narrow ledge. Finally, it broke from her, and she brought her legs back up and hugged her knees. And she started to sob, bringing forth a deep rush of tears. With one hand she held his head in place while the other caressed a breast, as she wept with joy.
It was an hour later. The neighborhood dogs were sleeping quietly. The cicadas had retired for the evening as well. A light breeze whispered past the curtains into the bedroom bringing a welcome coolness to the warm night. Abby began to draw lazy circles in his chest hair. Her breasts pressed against his ribs.
"Does anything scare you Warren?" she said. "Really scare you?"
"Ummm, yeah; blind women with machetes."
"Come on, why women?"
Warren turned his head, opened his eyes. "Why'd you say that?"
"I think you're a little afraid of me. Are you afraid of all women?" she asked, carefully watching his reaction.
"I mean here we are deeply involved but you're always joking, always keeping me right here; I feel like it's a measured distance away from your heart."
"I wouldn't call what we were doing a few minutes ago any measured off distance" he answered evasively.
"But you seem to be, you're afraid of letting it get deeper." Warren touched a finger to her wrist, drew a slow line up her arm and back down. He sighed while sliding his finger in and out of each of the grooves in her fingers.
"Jesus," he said. "Now the lady wants it even deeper."
"Oh, shit!" she exclaimed, and with a growling sound from her throat, wriggled her fingers into his ribs, and bit him hard on the neck.
"Ow!" He roared, shifting position causing her to fall into him and they began to wrestle.
Finally he permitted her to win. Gradually her biting grew softer and together they scooted along the comforter away from the edge, back to the center of the bed.
As he entered her she squealed out in joy, "Oh God... déjà vu, all over again."
"Thank you Yogi," Warren laughed, as he increased his stoking to jackhammer level causing them both to come almost immediately.
They dozed afterward; and later as the sun began to rise, Abby danced for him.