By The Numbers Ch. 05byslyc_willie©
Valentine's Day was the second busiest day of the year, I had heard, after Mother's Day. I couldn't imagine a restaurant more bustling than what I witnessed that late morning, when I arrived for work at just before 10:45, seeing a crowd of guests awaiting the opening of our doors.
The business of the day kept my mind occupied, so much so that, when two dozen red roses arrived for Sheila around two in the afternoon, I was not there to observe her initial reaction. But I did hear her excited cry of, "They're from Grant!" as she inhaled their fragrance. And I watched as she hugged the vaseful of thorny stems, as if holding her beloved Mr. Lawyer, carrying them back through the kitchen.
It was fortunate, then, that I managed to catch the second delivery man just half an hour later, spying him through the double front doors. I stepped out quickly, as the pudgy guy – about my age –- held up a crystal vase full of roses on his way to the restaurant.
"Who's the lucky girl?" I asked, sounding casual.
He gave me an annoyed look. "Some chick named Sheila," he said.
I frowned. "Oh. Damn. She doesn't work here anymore."
He almost dropped the vase, his frustration more than evident. "What?"
I forced a laugh, pulled out a ten-dollar bill from my bank. "Look. They're already paid for, right?"
The guy shrugged. "Yeah."
"Give me the flowers," I said, and pushed the ten-spot into his hand.
"Uh . . . sure," he responded.
I took up the flowers, went back inside. Trying not to think of Sheila and the way she was bragging about the flowers her boyfriend had sent, I settled the vase on the hostess stand, giving the girls there an amiable smile while deftly (I hoped) taking the card and slipping it into my apron. "Happy Valentine's Day," I said, then stepped away.
Sheila was positively glowing for the rest of the shift. Naturally, with her constant bragging about how 'sweet and thoughtful' Grant was, I didn't want to hear it. So, of course, I avoided her. It was pretty childish on my part, of course, but I wasn't thinking much differently than when I had been seventeen or eighteen. I felt snubbed.
My mood wasn't easily assuaged by the fact that I waited on doe-eyed lovers all day, staring at one another with stars in their eyes. From young couples on their first date to septuagenarians celebrating their fiftieth anniversary, reminders were constant that I was going to head home and spend the rest of the day alone. And frustrated.
Sheila, I figured, could tell that I was spurning her. At first, following the arrival of the roses, she gave me sort of sheepish, almost apologetic, looks. But as I continued to avoid her, she became quietly defensive, and spurned me in turn. Whenever I would meet her eye, I would receive nothing but coldness.
I had not had the chance to enjoy a smoke break all afternoon, so when four-thirty came, and my relief was taking over my section, I hustled out to the back dock for some much-needed nicotine therapy. There was no one else back there, and I relished the lack of cacophony as I lit up. Ah . . . just a few minutes of 'me' time . . . .
The door flew open, then closed quickly. Sheila stared at me, her expression somewhere between anger and sympathy. "You haven't been talking to me," she said.
I ground my teeth a moment. "Enjoying your roses?" I asked acidly.
Sheila crossed her arms, her nose reddening a little. Her eyes drifted away as her lips twitched in thought. "Are you jealous?" she asked.
I blinked, my ire instantly inflamed. "'Jealous?'" I echoed, nearly shouting the word, making Sheila blink. I backed off, suddenly confused as to how I thought. "No, of course not," I said with a measure of calm, pulling on my cigarette.
"Look, Nate," she said. "You knew I was with Grant when we started fooling around. And . . . I like hanging out with you, but if you're gonna be like this, maybe we should just stop."
I knew I was infatuated, then, because her threat all but literally made my heart leap in my throat. Sheila had me wrapped around her finger, and I abruptly realized it. I could suddenly feel myself becoming, and looking, contrite. "It's not . . ." I sighed, pausing, trying to find a way to both endear myself to Sheila and keep my machismo intact.
"I don't want to stop."
Sheila softened, smiling slightly. "Look, baby, you've been really cool with keeping this private. That's why I keep coming to you. I like being with you. It's like . . . I don't have to worry about anything when we're together. I really need that."
There was something behind her words – I really didn't recognize it consciously at the time, but still, it was there, and I somehow sensed it – that made me feel bad for avoiding her. Sheila suddenly seemed frightened, like a child in need of a friendly and recognizable face. The dynamic, it seemed, had shifted. Maybe she was the one who needed something.
I met her eyes, slightly quivering as they were. "I don't want to stop," I said again.
Sheila didn't speak. For a long moment, neither of us even moved. She just stared. I waited for her to do or say something. Finally, she did.
She took two quick steps, breathing in deeply as she did so, and grabbed my head. The kiss she gave me was fierce, hot, desperate. She moaned into my mouth, undulated her sweet body against mine. I felt like she was going to suck my heart out through my mouth, such was the intensity of her kiss.
She finally pulled back, just a little, giving us both room to breathe. I inhaled her scent, caressed her back. "I wish I could have you tonight," I whispered.
Sheila took a moment to compose herself, then backed off, not looking to me. She seemed suddenly embarrassed, perhaps even dazed. "Um . . . I still got a table," she said, then turned to the door to the restaurant and yanked it open.
I watched her go, even more perturbed than I had been before.
I tried to wait for Sheila after I had finished with all my duties, but I began to feel more than a little self-conscious, hanging around my car and smoking my second cigarette within fifteen minutes. I waved to a few of my friends and co-workers, some of whom gave me wondering looks as they went to their cars.
I felt, foolishly, that I was risking the revelation of mine and Sheila's 'romance' by lingering. Reluctantly, I slid behind the wheel and headed home.
I tried to absorb myself in my collection of Star Wars games on the Xbox. But shooting down tie-fighters and slashing up bad guys with a lightsaber did little to preoccupy my mind from mine and Sheila's conversation. I wanted to be with her, that much was a given. More than that, though, I wanted to explore that brief moment's vulnerability she had shown me. I wanted to learn why she 'needed' to be with me.
I had stepped through the door around five-thirty, changed into a pair of sweatpants, and jumped on the game. By seven, hunger was gnawing at me, so I ordered a pizza, which arrived just before eight. By nine, I was feeling morose, thinking what a loser I must be to be alone on Valentine's Day. What a loser, for being in love with a woman who only wanted to 'hang out' with me.
I became dulled by the game I was playing, caught up within its intricacies, for which I was at least subconsciously glad. The hours ticked by. I ate pizza and sipped soda, oblivious to the world ticking by outside.
Then came the knock.
I frowned, in the middle of a particularly decisive battle in the game. I almost thought about ignoring the knock, thinking it was one of my neighbors complaining about the noise. But the second series of rapping made up my mind, and I paused the game, getting up.
I didn't bother with looking through the spyhole; I simply turned the locks, and opened the door.
Sheila gave me a nervous look as she stood before me. She wore a tight red dress and high-heeled sandals with straps that wound all the way up her calves to her knees. Her perfume was sweet, but not strong. Her hair was almost professionally coifed, her makeup perfect. She looked like a woman who had spent the night on the town. "Can I come in?" she asked demurely.
I stepped back, sensing something very different about her. "Sure," I said. "You okay?"
Soft dark eyes glanced around my apartment. "You got something to drink?"
I sighed inwardly, shook my head. "No, sorry."
She shrugged slowly, still averting her eyes from me. "Doesn't matter, I guess."
I frowned. "What doesn't?"
Sheila didn't answer me. Instead, she let her eyes drift slowly up my body, until they settled upon mine. "You want me?" she asked.
She smiled suddenly, but it was a mirthless one. "I mean . . . you want me."
I understood, and nodded. "I'm in love with you, Sheila. I want you. All of you."
Silently, she closed the door, then reached behind and unzipped her dress. It fell amid a soft flutter around her ankles, leaving Sheila deliciously nude save for her shoes and what little jewelry she wore. "Take me. Any way you want."
I had a hundred questions for Sheila. I wanted to know why she had come over, at one o'clock in the morning, after having obviously spent the evening with her boyfriend. Had she dumped him? It was the most likely possibility, considering how she seemed skittish, anxious, and apparently in need of affection.
I wanted to ask her. I needed the confirmation of my suspicions. However, when you're a twenty-year-old man, faced with the most beautiful naked woman on the planet . . . well, rationality just seemed to fly out the window.
My romantic mind was in full gear, however, as I lead Sheila to the edge of my bed and set her down. I knelt on the floor, making us nearly level, and gazed into her eyes. "I love you, Sheila," I said. "And I want to prove how much."
She trembled slightly, her eyes becoming dewy. "Oh, Nate," she said, then smiled and sniffled. "I-I love you, too," she whispered.
We kissed, slowly, longingly, letting our passion simmer. My hands wandered over her body, cupping warm, full breasts and running down that taut, slender torso, while hers remained upon my shoulders. Very gently, I lay her back on the bed, slipping between her legs as she parted them. Pushing her breasts together, my tongue danced back and forth between her stiff, dark nipples. Sheila sighed in passion, hissed loudly when I sunk my teeth into one of the dark buttons.
"Yes," she panted as I made my way down her body, feeling the muscles of her abdomen moving beneath my lips. "Yes, baby, please . . . ."
The aroma of her sex was the purest I had ever inhaled: the scent of rising bread, mingled with olive oil, with a hint of sweat and the salty-sweet tanginess of the sea. I breathed in deeply, filling my cells with the fragrance. Sheila spread her legs wider, reaching down with her hands to pull gently at the back of my neck. I glanced to her face, seeing the need there, the desire.
Keeping her eyes locked with mine, I lowered my head and pressed my mouth to her pussy, sucking the bulging lips into my mouth. Sheila's eyes fluttered closed, her head falling back on the mattress. For long moments, I simply drew out her flavor with my mouth, massaging her labia with my tongue. I wanted to savor the moment, that first, incredible moment, in which I truly began to make love to the woman I adored above all others.
Sheila's passion simmered quickly, and she drew her hands up her body, caressing her skin while gently rolling her hips. I felt her clit against my upper lip, watched her hands squeeze her breasts and pull on distended nipples. I licked further inside her, curling the tip of my tongue so that it rubbed her clitoris from beneath. Each time I did that, Sheila jerked with a tiny spasm of pleasure.
I kept licking until I felt her pussy contract against my tongue and tasted the sweet flavor of her cum. Sheila had never been quiet during orgasm before; she merely panted and sighed, her body stiffening. Her fingers dug slightly into my skull, holding me in place as I devoured her sweet juices, then relaxed as I pulled back.
"Kiss me, baby," she whispered, beckoning me to climb up over her. I did so eagerly, settling between her legs and leaning over her body. Our lips met as my engorged cock pressed against her pussy, seeking the intense heat within.
Sheila broke the kiss after licking my lips clean of her essence, and gave me a twinkling smile. "Not yet, baby. Lay down."
I started to protest, the sublime lips of her cunt spreading around the head of my dick. The temptation to just plunge in, to take her, and feel those magical sugar walls sucking me in . . . but I could not deny Sheila anything she wanted. I figured that was going to be a running characteristic of our relationship.
With a smile, I rolled onto my back. Sheila got on her knees beside me, beautiful face glowing from her orgasm, and reached back to let her hair down. She ran her fingers through it, all the while smiling upon me. Then she leaned over, kissing my lips tenderly before leaving a slow, weaving trail down my body. The closer those lush lips approached my cock, the more excited I became. By the time I felt her breath on the crown of my dick, my shaft was so hard it stuck up like the rod of a sundial.
"Oh, baby, you're ready for me, aren't you?" she cooed.
"I figured . . . that was obvious," I groaned. My hands massaged her back and right thigh as I felt her firm, wet tongue gliding along the length of my cock. She licked with long, sweet strokes, lapping my dick, tasting the rigid skin. I squirmed when her lips brushed the very tip, her tongue licking out oozes of pre-cum.
Sheila shifted, swinging her leg over me until she was comfortably settled in a sixty-nine atop me. "I'm gonna suck you dry, Nate," she declared heatedly. "And then we're gonna fuck all . . . damn . . . night . . . ." She punctuated her statement with a low, rumbling growl that became muffled when her lips slipped around my cock and slid all the way down. I grunted, gripping her cheeks, when the head of my dick popped into Sheila's throat.
Her pussy was swollen and wet, shining in the soft light of my lamp. The delectable view of those sweet lips and her puckered anus above me was erotically inspiring, and I dove in, licking and sucking with gusto. I suppose my passion inspired Sheila as well, for she moved above me like a lioness devouring her prey, all but growling around my cock.
Sheila came amid muted whimpers and moans, never removing her mouth from my dick as her pussy spurted onto my tongue. I kept licking her, probing her anus with my fingers, keeping her cauldron boiling while the powerful surges of my own orgasm finally built up to the point where I was about to burst.
Sheila was bobbing furiously on my cock, using just her mouth, sucking hard and fast to coax out her reward. I could not have denied her skill and yearning even with a gun to my head.
"Sheila!" I gasped. "I'm cumming!"
She responded with a needy moan, then plunged down, all the way down, taking my dick into her throat. I felt her chin pressing into my abdomen just as my cock tensed and began spurting. The automatic swallowing motions of her esophageal muscles added an intense dimension to my orgasm. Ejaculating directly into Sheila's throat was mind-numbing. Electric. Religious.
I shook and gasped beneath her, my pleasure intensified to near pain when Sheila, no longer able to hold her breath, slid up my dick and bobbed once more, sucking me dry and getting a taste of my seed. She moaned softly, sucking with a tender sincerity that kept the sensations just below agony. I could feel my cock seeping into her mouth as she held me there, her tongue lightly caressing, her lips gently massaging.
My mind was numb with pleasure, my body nearly paralyzed with ecstasy. I could barely stroke Sheila's back as she settled upon me comfortably, hugging my hips with her arms and laying her head on my hip. My cock never left her mouth as she sensuously, lovingly, milked me.
We awoke after a while, uncurling from each other, and shared soft, sweet kisses. Sheila snuggled against me, her back to my chest, my arms around her, and took up the remote. She flipped through the channels on TV before settling on a rerun of an old sitcom.
"You hungry?" I asked, brushing her hair from the back of her neck and kissing her there.
Sheila giggled softly, hugging my arm tight around her body. "After what you just fed me?" she asked playfully.
I rolled my eyes at her words, but the way she was so casual about our coupling was both arousing and heartwarming. I kissed her neck again, nipped at her ear. "I love you," I whispered.
Sheila said nothing, just closed her eyes – I could see her face in profile – and nibbled her lip. "You're a wonderful man, Nate," she said, her voice slightly choked. She tilted her head enough so that she could meet my eyes. "I'm really glad I met you."
I touched her chin, graced her lips with mine for a moment. "I'm glad I met you, too."
Sheila smiled, a genuine, grateful smile, then settled back into the protective frame of my body. "I think, right now," she said. "I'm the happiest girl in the world."
I smiled. "And I'm the happiest guy."
By the time the rerun was over, Sheila and I gave in to passion once again. This time, after licking and sucking each other in preparation, Sheila got up from the bed and leaned against the counter of my breakfast window. She moaned, sighed, panted and groaned as I fucked her from behind. The gentle sensuality we had experienced before was now replaced with animalistic fervor. I slammed into her hard, making sweat-slicked skin smack loudly against sweat-slicked skin. Sheila's volcanic orgasms all but shook the walls and rattled the windows.
We rested for a bit, then went at it again, this time with Sheila on her back on the couch, her legs curled back until her knees framed her head. She madly fingered her sloppy, drippy cunt as I plundered her ass. Sheila was all but fixated on the sight of my cock sliding in and out from between her cheeks. She erupted three times, literally spraying fluid onto my abdomen the last time, before her inordinate sexiness had me cumming at last.
After recovering, panting and sweating, from our shared high on Elysium's clouds, Sheila pulled me to the bed and spooned up against me, wrapping my arms tightly about her under the comforter. I was a little surprised, but very grateful. Sheila had never evidenced that she wanted to spend the night before.
Just further proof that I was now the man in her life, I reasoned with a smile on my face, and fell asleep, inhaling the sweet aromas of sex and love.
Thankfully, neither Sheila nor I had to work the following day. I had classes, of course, but I elected to skip them. I had never done so before, so I figured a single day's absence from my collegiate life could be forgiven.
We awoke late, yawning, stretching, giggling and kissing. Like newlyweds after the first night of a honeymoon, I thought, as Sheila rolled atop me. Waking up with an erection was a constant in my life at that age, and she was quick to take advantage of it, slowly impaling herself on my manhood while staring down into my eyes. Following a pair of sweet, mewling orgasms on Sheila's part, I finally came inside her. Then, indulging in her kinky side, Sheila let my seed dribble out of her pussy and back onto my cock . . . which she proceeded to lick clean.
We showered, and Sheila ran down to her car – nothing on but one of my shirts, which did not hide much – to get her day bag. We wore jeans and T-shirts, held hands the way lovers should, as we did a little light shopping, saw a movie, and had an early dinner. We shared kisses constantly, and Sheila was smiling all day.
I couldn't help but think, I make her happy. I'm the man she wants. And I don't have to be some rich lawyer to do it.