The Swimsuit

Heather felt very sexy as she walked onto the stage. She knew how the swimsuit flattered her small figure. The black maillot with its thin straps highlighted her svelte figure. She looked good. She knew she looked good, and the smiling faces of the audience validated her feeling. Men and women found her attractive. She took her position by the auctioneer and smiled.

"Heather is wearing a black, Lycra maillot," the auctioneer said. "You can see how it fits a fine figure. Who will start the bidding?"

When Marsha asked Heather to be part of the charity swimsuit auction, Heather had been reluctant. She wasn't a professional model, and although she kept in shape she wasn't sure of herself. She didn't think she had the confidence to pull off the auction. When she saw the room filled with women and a few men, her heart beat fast. What if they didn't like her? What if they didn't like her figure? What if she tripped or something? Could she make herself smile and parade like a real model? If Marsha hadn't bolstered Heather's ego just before she took the stage, Heather might have walked out.

Instead, she stood by the auctioneer, and she felt good about herself. No, she wasn't the most gorgeous woman in the auction, but she was far from the least attractive. Her petite figure and long, dark hair made a nice picture for the bidders.

"Fifty dollars," a woman said.

Heather smiled.

"Sixty," another voice cried.

"Seventy."

"Eighty."

Heather beamed. When she took the stage, she thought $50 would be more than adequate, and here they were at $90 and climbing. She couldn't believe a swimsuit auction could make her feel so desirable.

He stood up. He was tall with dark hair and dark eyes, and a smile pranced across his handsome face. Nice shoulders, slim hips, he presented a nice package. He smiled at Heather and nodded.

"One thousand dollars," the man said.

The room noise died. Everyone turned and stared. The auctioneer gaped. The man smiled at Heather, locking eyes with her, and she knew something about him sang to her. What? What connection was there? She could feel something, a sort of tug at her soul, a bond. What?! He looked neither left nor right but only at her. Heather's heart seemed to flutter. Why was he looking at her that way? She felt a little weak, as if some energy had been siphoned off by his stare. God, what kind of man was he?

"One t...thousand once," the auctioneer said. "One thousand twice....sold!" The gavel smacked the podium.

For a moment, Heather couldn't move. She was mesmerized by his face, his eyes, his power. She could almost feel his will lock onto her, his purpose inundate her like some huge psychic wave. WHAT?! A voice seemed to whisper inside her brain, but she couldn't make out the words. She could almost hear them...soft, breathy words, words of need and yearning. If she could listen...

"Thank you, Heather," the auctioneer said.

Heather broke eye contact with the strange bidder, and the whispers faded. With a last glance at him, she skipped off the stage.

Heather had changed into jeans and sweater and was sipping a Coke when she tried to examine what had happened on stage. What had happened? She remembered a warm glow deep inside and the whispers in her brain, and a feeling of desire and fear snaking through her body. It was the eeriest feeling she had ever experienced, and yet it was completely pleasurable. She liked that feeling. She liked how her smile brightened and her mind sought to meld with that feeling. What was it? She couldn't say. It was as if some probe had found a special region of her brain and stimulated her best and deepest feelings, feelings she wasn't even aware she possessed. How? Heather wondered and at the same time missed those feelings. She felt she had discovered some wonderful secret place and now couldn't remember how to find it. How?

"You were the hit of the auction." Marsha broke Heather's reverie.

"Not me, him," Heather answered.

"Someone you know?"

"Not that lucky," Heather said.

"I'd like to know him." Marsha rolled her eyes. "One thousand for a swimsuit? and he looks that good? Yeah, I'd really like to know him."

"Maybe you can."

Heather turned with Marsha. The man who bought Heather's suit smiled at them.

"I'm Dirk," he said confidently. "I bought your suit."

"I remember," Heather said.

"I'm Marsha." She stuck out her hand which Dirk shook. "I planned the auction."

"You did a marvelous job," Dirk said. "Congratulations. And your greatest triumph was recruiting this woman." He smiled at Heather.

Heather felt a blush rise up her neck, but she didn't feel embarrassed, just warm.

"Heather was our star."

"The brightest star in the firmament," Dirk said.

"Y...yes," Marsha said. "It was nice meeting you." Marsha winked at Heather before she turned and left.

Heather looked at Dirk whose liquid brown eyes seemed as deep as the night sky. Heather felt at home in those eyes, safe. She nothing but goodness there, nothing but consideration and kindness. Why did she feel she had known him a long time?

"I hope I didn't embarrass you," Dirk began. "I wanted everyone to know what I thought of you."

"I think you succeeded." She laughed.

"I find you incredibly attractive."

Heather was at a loss for words which was unlike her. She averted her eyes. Why did he make her feel so warm?

"It seems obvious," he continued, "that I can't wear this."

Heather looked up and found him holding out the suit.

"I want you to have it. You look so good in it."

"Thank you, but don't you have someone to give it to?"

"No one who can do it justice."

Heather accepted the swimsuit, and as she looked into his eyes she felt that unsettling inner glow. "I feel at a loss," she said. "I don't have anything to give you."

"You can give me something." He smiled sheepishly.

"What?"

"Would you model it for me? privately?"

Heather looked at him and saw nothing but kindness and desire in his eyes. "Now?"

He glanced around. "That's a dressing room, isn't it?" He pointed to a closed door.

"Yes."

"Go inside and change. I'll guard the door."

She hesitated. She knew nothing about this man but his name and his incredibly kind eyes. Should she take such a risk? She didn't know him, but at the same time she felt an affinity for him, a connection. She felt she could trust him. Why did she think that?

"Well, maybe it's not such a good idea," he said.

"No, no, it's just...I don't know you."

"I don't know you either, but I feel this fantastic energy between us. Do you feel it?"

"I feel something."

The glow inside brightened, and she thought she heard the whispers again. But what did the whispers say? Did they encourage or warn? She wanted to model for him, and they were still inside the hotel with many people about. It wasn't as if he had asked her to his car or house. She was safe. And she wanted to.

"Give me a minute." Heather smiled and moved past him, slipping into the room.

She stripped quickly, wantonly, not bothering to fold her clothes. The glow inside had become a fervor that burned brightly and hot. God, she was acting like a schoolgirl with the hots for the captain of the football team. Still, she couldn't help herself. She was half afraid she would open the door and find him gone, an apparition of her fevered brain. She was still adjusting the straps when she peaked out the door. He leaned against the wall. She smiled and waved him inside.

Heather retreated to the middle of the small room as Dirk stepped inside. He stood with his back to the door and simply smiled at her. She pirouetted in front of him, letting him feast on her. She noticed the light in his eyes, the desire in his face, and that knowledge fed her own desire. Her heart beat a little faster, her fire blazed a little higher. The connection between them seemed to strengthen.

"Stand still," he said.

Heather stopped and looked deep into his eyes. He pushed himself away from the door and stepped very close. She could smell his cologne, a clean crisp scent. She could feel his heat on her skin. With two fingers, he carefully grasped her left strap near the suit and slowly straightened it over her shoulder and down back to where it met the suit again. She fought the urge to tremble at his touch. Using the same two fingers he smoothed out her right strap, from front to back, tickling her soft skin. He moved closer and reached over her, and he hooked one finger along the top of her suit. With deliberate slowness, he smoothed out the elastic, first from zipper to the right, then from zipper to the left. His breath fiery on her neck, he reached down and hooked the elastic of the top. Barely moving, he ran his finger under the elastic, over the mound of one breast, down into her cleavage, and over the top of the other breast. Heather couldn't keep herself from trembling. His touch was so sensuous. She felt her nipples begin to rise.

Dirk moved very close and reached around her and hooked the elastic leg opening along her backside. He smoothed the elastic by running his finger over her bottom, across her hip, and down her thigh. She quivered as his finger tickled the ends of her pubic hair. She grabbed his shoulders and squeezed as the inner heat grew. God, what his touch did to her. She anticipated the other hand, the other side, the way his finger brushed so close to her essence, tantalizing her, teasing her. She felt her body respond to his touch, her inner flesh begin to moisten. His finger lingered just under the elastic, so close. Then, he lifted her chin, and he kissed her. His lips were warm and soft and hungry, and Heather felt herself overflow with desire. Her chest heaved with passion. She felt attached to him somehow, as if they had touched minds.

Heather felt her will swell and her reserve snap.

In the past, Heather had never been the aggressor, but the passion burning inside her could not be denied. With urgency she pulled Dirk's lips to hers, and while their tongues dipped and swerved and touched like children at play, she reached for his belt, his pants. Her hands worked feverishly as she unbuckled and unsnapped and unzipped and slid her fingers along his cotton briefs, over the mound of need beneath. She slipped his pants over his hips and them fall to the floor. Her hands seemed to fly as she rubbed him and squeezed him, their lips and tongues locked in desire. Feeling more bold than she had ever felt in her life, Heather slipped her fingers under the elastic and pulled down his briefs. She broke the kiss to tug the briefs to his ankles. Then, she grabbed his erection and once again kissed him, stroking him and tonguing his mouth at the same time. He started to rub her suit, her breasts, and she stepped back.

Somehow, Heather felt a need to make love to Dirk, to allow her inner aggression to show. She was almost embarrassed by the depth of her feeling, the wetness of her body, the hardness of her nipples. She shunted aside those feelings and allowed her lust to dominate. She pushed his hands away, showing him that she would initiate contact, that she would show possession and ownership. Looking into his deep eyes and still holding his erection, she pushed him down to the floor. He was an odd sight in his coat and tie and naked from the waist down, his penis waving and jerking with abject need. Watching the fire in his eyes, Heather stood over him and slowly stripped off the maillot, exposing her engorged nipples. She wiggled the suit off her hips and down her legs, and she watched his eyes find her essence which glistened with moisture. His erection bobbed, and he moaned, and Heather teased him a moment by twisting her own nipples and rubbing herself. She stuck a finger inside and licked it to show him how wet she was. She watched him fight for control.

Heather had never felt so liberated before, so sure of herself. In the past, she had allowed herself to be taken, to be made love to, to fulfill the needs of her partners. For some reason, this time she wanted her fantasies met, her own desires fulfilled. She wanted to be pleased, and with a smile she stepped forward and lowered herself till she squatted just over his lips. He started to put his hands on hips, but she pushed them away. With a sensuousness she found exhilarating, she slowly rubbed herself on his lips and tongue, allowing him to just touch and lick. She moved back and forth and around and she was careful not to push too hard, not yet. Although she was soon soaked, she teased herself and his tongue. She wanted to milk his desire, move it where she wanted, make sure it found the spot that made her whole body quiver. She smeared herself on his chin and nose and face, and she felt in control. She realized she was building to a climax she had never experienced before, an explosion she could time and detonate when she wanted. She lowered herself to feel the wiggly warmth sink deeper inside her. She squeezed his tongue and felt a gush and rubbed harder. Her body burned. Her breathing became ragged as she undulated on him, seeking and finding forbidden pleasure. She smashed his face with herself, straining against him.

The first orgasm rippled through her. She clamped on his tongue and shuddered with the effort. It came hard and fast, like a locomotive through her body. She hardly had time for anything but the rush, the release. She held her breath and rode the wave, allowing her body to respond. God, it was wonderful. But it was short.

She raised herself and looked into his eyes. He knew, and he smiled, and she smiled back. Seeing her juice all over his face and shirt and coat and tie excited her again. She laughed. With more courage than she had ever shown before, she backed up a step and sank to her knees astride him. She grabbed his pulsating erection and stroked him. She looked into his eyes, and she saw the tortured passion inside. Smiling, she lowered his lips to him, kissing his penis, licking the long shaft, wetting the hardness. She felt him shiver at her touch, felt his body surge. She had never been so bold with any man, but she wanted to be bold with Dirk. She wanted him to know how much she desired him. It was no longer enough to respond. She wanted to initiate. She took him in her mouth and pleased him, sucking and tonguing and raking with her teeth. He moaned quietly, mindful of the people just outside the door. His hands remained by his side while she heightened his desire.

Heather felt her body reheat, and she knew what she wanted. She moved forward and mounted him, slipping his hard penis inside her. He gasped and reached for her, but she pushed his hands down. She placed her hands on his chest and began to work him and her, moving her hips up and down and around, squeezing him inside her. She watched his face, his passion, the pleasure that suffused his features. She knew he was seconds from orgasm, and she rubbed herself hard on him to ready herself. He felt so good inside her, so strong and yet under control. She knew she was giving him the pleasure of his life, and that thought kindled a brighter desire. With a deliberateness that almost scared her, she moved faster and harder, knowing the level of energy couldn't last long. She had never felt so needed or wanted and yet at the same time so pleasured. She watched him grit his teeth and meet her thrusts, and his effort elicited a frenzy in her. She cavorted atop him, wantonly seeking another orgasm, a longer, hotter release, wanting to feel him unload in her.

She saw his eyes close.

She felt his penis stiffen.

She clamped down hard.

The explosion was simultaneous. Heather felt him shoot. She felt her body respond. She milked him, shuddering around him, accepting his offering. She didn't know how long it lasted. She didn't care. She gasped when she breathed, as if she had forgotten to take a breath. The moment lingered. God, she had never found such pleasure before. She slowly lowered herself to rest on his shirt, and he kissed her hair as he wrapped his arms around her.

"You were fabulous," Dirk said.

"So were you."

"I...I want to see you again."

"Even after I messed up your shirt?"

He laughed, a nice laugh. "Especially because you messed up my shirt." He hugged her. "Heather, I feel something special with you."

"That's just the sex."

"That too. Do you feel it?"

She kissed his cheek. "I felt it when you stood up and looked at me. I heard voices, whispers."

"So did I."

She let herself rest on his strength. She felt so good.

"We have to get out of here," he said. "But you're coming with me."

"I know."

"We're going to have dinner."

"And then?"

"And then....yes, then."

Heather felt a surge of energy shudder through her body.

"You'll let me touch you next time, won't you?" Dirk asked.

"I'll demand it."

He raised her chin and kissed her, and she felt the connection again, the linking of mind and body. It was as if they were some sort of Siamese twins, forever joined in spirit. The whispers started in her mind, and suddenly Heather knew they were whispers of joy. Heather felt very happy.