Wednesdays at the Venice Cafe Ch. 01

Philip pulled away far enough to touch Kathleen's face, his thumbs lightly caressing the blindfold. Kathleen felt his hands move lower, cradle her face for a moment, than drop to her shoulders. From each shoulder his fingers traced the neckline of her blouse until they met at her cleavage. Then he stepped away, moved behind her again, and began unbuttoning the three buttons at the back of her neck. Once they were undone, Philip folded the fabric back and kissed her on the spine at the base of her neck.

Still behind her, he put his hands on her waist again, then found the side zipper of her skirt. He unbuttoned and unzipped and unhooked, then slid the skirt slowly down, not letting go of it, but dropping to his knees as the skirt dropped to her ankles. "I must say, I do like your style!" She was wearing stocking and a cream-colored garter belt. He indicated with a touch that she should lift her foot, then pulled the skirt past it when she did so. Then the other foot and the skirt was gone. Kathleen thought he may have draped it over the chair.

Philip ran his hands over her stockings from calf to thigh, then took her ass cheeks in his hands and squeezed. He kissed her ass through her panties, kissed her thighs just above the tops of her stockings, touched each of the garters with the tips of his fingers. Then he stood, catching the hem of her blouse as he did so, and pulled it up. Kathleen raised her arms instinctively, and Philip peeled the top off over her head and threw it aside. He adjusted the blindfold to make certain it had not been dislodged. Then he held her at arm's length and marveled at his prize: great, round breasts in seamless, red demi-cups; an abdomen flat enough that pelvic bones stood at points on either side; creamy garter belt framing a creamy triangle of silk, both setting off the white of her thighs and the promising shadows at their juncture.

Philip was beginning to have difficulty showing restraint. He put his hands on Kathleen's shoulders again, slipped her bra straps to the edges of her shoulders, and let them drop; he ran the tips of his fingers lightly down her breasts until they reached the top edge of her bra. Then he slipped his fingers behind the cloth and jerked downwards suddenly, peeling the bra away and fully revealing her white breasts and her large, pale, pink nipples. Kathleen was startled, but steeled herself for whatever Philip might do next.

What he did was to take her left breast in both his hands and lean down to suckle. His lips closed around her nipple, his tongue flicked across it, and his teeth caught at it. Already enlarged, the nipple responded by hardening even further. He kissed and sucked some more, then turned his attention to her right breast. He circled the nipple with his tongue several times before closing his lips around it. He kept one hand on her left breast while he teased the right, the nipple trapped between his first and second fingers. She could feel the cloth of his shirt sleeve against her bare skin. When the right nipple seemed to Philip to be as hard as the left, he stood up watched Kathleen's face as he kneaded both her breasts, tweaking and twisting her nipples. He ran his hands along the bra that still bounded crease at the bottom of her breasts. Kathleen sensed she was being watched; she licked her lips and leaned forward the barest inch, hoping for a kiss. Philip put one finger up to her lips to caution her, but she only began kissing it hungrily. Her mouth sought out the rest of his hand, and he was amused when she began kissing and sucking on his fingers.

"Enough." He stepped away. Kathleen was left standing in what was, to her, darkness, in a room of unknown size or content, with nothing touching her but the air on her skin and the carpet beneath her stockinged feet. She listened. She recognized the soft sound of a zipper, the rustling of cloth, muffled pocket change. Then Philip had hold of her upper arms and was pushing her back. She stepped fearfully back, hoping not to trip. At her second step the backs of her legs met fabric, padding, something.

"Sit." She put out her hands to either side and lowered herself. A bed, covered in a quilt. She let herself relax, her hands palms down on the quilt on either side of her. Now Philip's hands were on her head, his fingers entwining themselves in her hair. He pulled her head forward and down. Her face met his belly, the tip of his cock brushed her chin. He pulled her head again, but he needn't have: her mouth was seeking out his cock as eagerly as it had done his fingers. She found it and sank her mouth onto it. She brought her hands up suddenly, lest Philip forbid it, and grabbed at his ass, pulling him to her. She licked and sucked as if she had been starved for cock. She leaned into him, bobbing her head rapidly. She squeezed the clenched cheeks of his ass alternately, then ran one hand up his bare back, then down the back of one thigh, and finally brought both her hands to the front, where they cradled his balls as she continued sucking. Philip kept hold of her hair, but gave her free rein to move as she wished. The sight of her, blindfolded and giving head, was at least as exciting as the feel of her lips and tongue and teeth.

Kathleen shifted her weight, then slid forward and off the edge of the bed, dropping to her knees. She had found sitting on the bed put her at an awkward height, and she wanted no hindrances. With one hand she reached between his legs, behind his scrotum, to the root of his cock, and applied pressure. With the other she pulled his cock down and, starting at the tip, she slowly began to swallow it. When she felt her throat try to constrict, she paused, flattened her tongue against the front of her throat as if her doctor was peering down it, and then firmly pulled Philip to her until his cock was deep in her throat and her nose was tight against his pubic bone. Philip hissed and moaned. Kathleen held him there for several seconds, not letting him move but rubbing and squeezing his balls. She pulled off him slowly, inch by inch, until she could take a single breath, then she lunged back onto him, swallowing his full length in a single stroke. She could not hold him there for more than a second before pulling off and gasping for air.

"You don't want to get carried away with that. We'll never make it back in time if you have to start over." Philip took her hands, tugged her up to standing, then pushed her back onto the bed again. She sat down hard, still trying to catch her breath. Philip knelt low and forced his hands between her legs, his forearms behind her calves, and stood, tipping her onto her back. Kathleen had not really considered his weight until now, when he bore her backwards, forcing her legs up and her knees toward her chest.

"Grab your knees." She did as she was told. Philip slid his hands along her stockings from the backs of her knees to her garters. With one hand on each thigh, his thumbs just at the edge of her panties, he bent over her. Kathleen felt his warm breath on her vulva. He kissed her through the sheer fabric. He kissed the bare skin not covered by her stockings. He laid a trail of kisses from one side to the other, then returned to the center where he again kissed her outer lips as they pressed against her panties. The fabric was already moist and musky. He moved upward and kissed where her clitoris must be hidden behind the silk.

He considered, briefly, the task of unfastening her garters in order to remove her panties. He decided not to bother. He gathered the fabric with the fingers of his right hand, pulled it to the side, and gazed at her glistening sex. He kissed it once, gently, before attacking it with his tongue.

Philip began low and ran his tongue up the hollow between Kathleen's vulva and her right thigh. He slowed as he came alongside her clitoris, and was careful to stay on the outside of the hood as he crossed over to her left side. He moistened his tongue and licked down the outer side of her left labia until he had returned to his point of beginning, whereupon he retraced his path counterclockwise, again being careful not to stimulate her clitoris directly. Then he reached as low as he could, nearly to her asshole, and danced his tongue slowly upwards and from side to side, touching the tops of her inner and outer lips until he had arrived just below her clit. Now he paused, wrapped his arms around her thighs from below, moistened his tongue again, and gently lapped at Kathleen's clit. She shuddered, and he retreated to a spot well below her vagina. His tongue pushed hard between her inner lips and he made a great licking motion, his tongue diving into her cunt as he passed it then sliding out on his way back up to her clit.

He dove back down and repeated this long march from asshole to nubbin, beginning with a moistening of his tongue and ending with a flick of her clit. Again and again, with increasing speed, he licked her slit. As she become more voluble in her response, he shortened his stroke, now beginning each with a quick plunge of his tongue into her cunt, followed by a rapid slurp of the intervening inch to her swollen clit. Kathleen, on her back with her feet in the air, let gravity pull her knees apart, whatever the cost to her hips. Philip's face-fucking finally overcame her, and she cried out, reached for him, bucked her hips up and kicked her legs out straight, all in one convulsive orgasm. Philip held on, buried his tongue as deeply into her vagina as he could, his nose mashed against her clitoris.

Kathleen tried pulling her feet back onto the bed. She managed to get her right heel up onto the edge of the mattress, then decided just to wrap her left leg around Philip and pin him where he was until she could stop shuddering. It took a minute. Philip began extricating himself. He rubbed the insides of her thighs, stood up, and looked down at Kathleen. One of her garters had come undone. Her panties were soaked. She put her arms up over her head, turned her head to one side, twisted her body in the other direction, moaned, and stretched. Her great breasts spread out to the sides as she lay on her back. Philip's erection had never gone away, but the sight of her like that renewed his vitality.

"Sit up." She struggled to do so, and he took her hands to help. As soon as she could she reached for him, began trying to suck his cock again. For a minute, he let her.

"Now stand." He pulled her upright, stepped to one side, put a hand on the small of her back and guided her forward. "There." She was exploring the air in front of her with her hands. "Reach down." Ah, the chair again. She was behind it, and started to edge around.

"No, stand there. Bend over, put your hands on the arms of the chair." As she did, Philip stepped up behind her, grasped her panties, and pulled them to the side again. Bending his knees and thrusting his pelvis forward, he guided his cock toward her cleft. Kathleen reached back between her legs to help, and gave a small, happy sound as he slid into her well-lubricated cunt.

Philip had meant to take a long, lazy time at it, but it was no use. His first half dozen strokes were long and slow, as he pulled down and back until the tip of his cock was all that was left inside Kathleen, then slowly buried himself inside her again. He had his hands on her hips, then on her back, then reached around to fondle her breasts as they hung in the air. He brought his hands back to her hips, grasping her pelvic bones as if they were jug handles, and thrusting into her hard, his pubis slapping into her ass. He wanted nothing more than that, again and again, and so he pounded faster and faster, until he found himself panting and grunting with each thrust. Kathleen found his lust, his desperation for release, to be contagious. They built to a climax together, Philip finally grinding himself into her, trying to thrust even deeper, and saying "Oh! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" He knew from Kathleen's breathing that she had reached her peak. He curled over her, making contact with her back from his abs to his chest. He kissed her between the shoulder blades. He rubbed his hands in circles on her back. He gathered her hair, lifted, and blew on the back of her neck. He ran his hands down past her hips and over the outsides of her thighs.

He was shrinking. Kathleen adjusted her stance, he adjusted his, and he slid out. Her panties half returned to their intended position, but not before she dripped onto the carpet.

"May I sit down?"

"But of course, my dear."

Kathleen awkwardly turned the chair about, sank into it. "What time is it?"

"Mmmm. Eleven thirty five. We shouldn't dawdle." He was already getting himself dressed.

"Stand up, please." He stood in front of Kathleen and straightened her bra, tugging the cups into position and sliding the straps back up over her shoulders. While she adjusted and readjusted herself inside the bra, he produced her blouse from where ever it had been and helped her pull it over her head. He fastened the buttons. Then he was kneeling by her, helping her step into her skirt, which he then pulled up.

"I can get this in the dark." She hooked and zipped and buttoned.

"Here are your shoes."

"You're not going to let me take this off, are you?"

"Not yet. Here's your purse. And your balloon."

After another moment or two he said "I think we're ready." Kathleen heard the door open, felt cool air. "OK. Here's my hand."

He led her out, unlocked her car door, made sure she didn't bump her head getting in, closed her door after her. Then a moment later there was a creak and a bump, and she felt as well as heard the car trunk slam shut. Philip opened his door and said "I just have to drop off the key."

It seemed to Kathleen a very long time, sitting there blindfolded, but it was really barely two minutes before Philip was back. He started the car, backed out of the space, and pulled forward. Kathleen had been trying to think what to say to him on the drive back. She couldn't think of much.

"That was a motel, wasn't it."

"Yes, of course."

"Why wouldn't you let me see it?"

"You said you didn't want to. You didn't want to see anything, least of all yourself."

"Well. Yes. Maybe next time I'll have the guts to watch. If there is a next time."

"We don't have to decide that tonight."

"No, I suppose we don't. Of course we don't. And if we did, we could always change our minds. In either direction."

"Exactly so."

"I think I may be leaving a wet spot on your upholstery."

Philip laughed. "I shall cherish it always!"

"Crap, I hope not. How can I go back in the bar with a big cum stain on my skirt?"

"I'll check. If it looks bad we can stand around outside where the light isn't good enough to show anything."

Another two minutes and Philip was parking at the curb. He reached over, pulled the blindfold up and over Kathleen's head. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. He kissed her.

They got out of the car, Philip checked her skirt and they walked back up the block to the Venice. Bill waved them in without paying the cover charge again. The crowd had thinned, but their table was occupied. They took two stools at the bar and ordered drinks. It was twelve fifteen. Kris turned up at quarter to one.

* * *

On Friday of that week, Philip dropped in on the IT department. He asked the director how they were settling in to the new space. Made sure there weren't any problems. Wandered around and looked at doors and woodwork and furniture with an expert eye. When he got the chance, he stopped to see Kathleen in her cubicle. She looked a little nervous. He assured her "Just checking in. I want happy clients to vouch for me at my next performance review."

As he left her cubicle, he wordlessly handed her a DVD in a plastic sleeve. On it he had printed by hand "Not Safe For Work" and, in smaller letters, "Not Safe for Home Either." Kathleen put it in her pocket.