Monday, December 20, 2010

The Art of Hooking Up (2)

(The Art of Hooking Up, 2)
I hesitated on the threshold. "What the fuck am I doing?" I thought mentally kicking myself again remembering my mantra. She must have felt a skip in the electricity of my pulse because she stopped and looked at me. She walked towards me her body moving with purpose.

"What's wrong?" She ran a finger across my lips. I took a deep breath. "I know you want me Cheyenne." She moved closer to me, "You do want me, don’t you?" She pressed her body against mine. I kissed her, an unspoken response to her question. She took my hand and walked towards the parking lot. "What are you driving?" I clicked my clicker and the headlights of my car flashed illuminating her form.

"Where's your car?" I asked once I found my voice.

"I didn't drive."

"Really, then how did you get here?" She pointed at a limo idling in front of the gallery then slid into the passenger side of my car. "Where are we going, Lenore?" I asked liking the sound of her name and feeling skeptical. Something here didn't feel quite right.

"I have a room at the Marriott downtown. We could go there?" She took out a cell phone and speed dialed a number. "I won't need the car tonight. I met up with a friend," she looked at me meaningfully, "I'll let you know when I need you tomorrow." She thanked who I deduced to be the limo driver as I saw the lights of the car turn on and he drove away. I started up the car and slowly pulled out of the parking lot. "Do you know how to get there?" She asked slipping the shoulder restraint of the seat belt away and kissing me on my neck.

"I'll figure it out." I placed my hand on her knee; she slid it up and underneath her dress. My mind was reeling. What the hell was I doing? She opened her legs slightly and hooked my thumb in the waistband of her panties. I smiled, and then laughed to myself, this is not what I came out for. My God has a wicked sense of humor.

"What's funny?" She asked pushing herself against my cupped hand. I fingered the lacy garment and listened as her breath caught when I brushed against her clit. I smiled again shaking my head. I parked the car in the underground garage. I cut the engine and she removed her seat belt then mine. She pushed her dress above her hips and straddled me kissing me deeply. My heart racing I cupped her breast in my free hand my other nestled in the soft folds of wet flesh. She moaned and rocked against me. I lowered my head taking the outline of her nipple through the dress in between my teeth, her tongue in my ear.

A car came up the ramp. Headlights silhouetted us and we froze. We were perfectly still, holding our breath. The car pulled in beside mine. I started to laugh. She bit down gently on my ear and put her hand over my mouth to suppress my giggles. The woman getting out of the passenger side dropped something. She rested her and on my car to lean down and pick up the item when she looked directly at us. Her face registered what she saw, ran the gamut of expressions. Finally she blushed, retrieved her dropped item and hurried to meet her man. We both let our laughter go.

She kissed me again and before we got out of hand I asked, "So, where exactly, is this room of yours?"

We entered the lobby and made our way to the elevators. I had to quicken my pace to keep up with her. I couldn’t tell if she was anxious to get me up to her room or running from someone. When we got in the elevator I stood with my back against the glass windows clutching the rail behind me. She stood on the opposite side looking at me hungrily. The doors closed. Nothing happened. I laughed.

‘”What’s funny now?” She asked smiling all teeth.

“It’s an elevator.” I said still smiling.

“Damn, your right,” she said laughing, “I get it. That is funny. The elevator! That’s the best joke I’ve heard all day.” She moved towards me. I shook my head no and she stopped. Her expression changed. She looked worried. “Are you changing your mind?” I shook my head no again biting my lip. Her smile returned.

“Lenore, it’s an elevator.” I said again more seriously this time.

“I know.” She looked confused and looked around like she was making sure it was indeed an elevator.

“Lenore, it won’t go anywhere until you tell it where to go.” She blushed and put her hand to her head and shook it.

“You’ve got me so flustered I’m not thinking straight.”

“I hope not, because I am a lot of things. Straight is not one of them.”

She looked at me, swallowed hard then pushed the number for the 12th floor. The elevator started to rise. I stayed where I was and watched her eyes. The sexual tension in the small moving room was so thick you could cut it with a knife. On the 8th floor a man stepped into the elevator with us. He looked at us both in turn and said hello. We didn’t respond both of us staring at one another.

Reaching the 12th floor we all but ran from the elevator. She fumbled for her card key. She dropped it picked it up and dropped it again. I picked it up and placed my hands on her shoulders.

“Are you changing your mind?” I asked looking her in the eyes, not sure what I saw in them. She took my hand and placed it on her breast. I could feel her hardened nipple pushing its way against the restraints of the fabric.

“What do you think?”

I stepped in front of her. I slowly opened the door and held it for her to walk through.

“Would you like a drink?” she asked as she walked to the mini bar. I walked closely behind her. “There’s white wine and some..” I spun her to face me and kissed her. Her hands moved under my jacket and she slid it off my shoulder and threw it on the floor. Without breaking our connection I walked her backwards to the bed. She curled her fingers in my locks and kissed me so deeply my knees felt weak. Then she pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed. Her hands went for my belt. She unbuckled it and pulled from the loops with a flourish. Before she could unzip my jeans I took both of her hands in mine.

I kneeled before her. I ran my hands along her calves then her thighs pushing the hem of her dress up with my progression. Her breathing became labored. I slid my hands under her and slipped the dress over her head. The purple lace bra and matching panties against her mocha skin was lovely. She made a motion to unsnap her bra. I shook my head no. She stopped. I took her hands again and kissed each of her palms before placing them on the bed. She immediately clutched the comforter for support.

I hooked my finger inside the waist band of her panties and slid them down. I lifted each foot removed the garment completely and placed it on the floor next to my belt. I ran my hand between her thighs and parted them. She was wet and her scent was strong. I took a deep breath to steady myself. I didn’t want to rush this. I was determined to take my time. I fingered the neatly trimmed triangle of hair while watching her. Her stomach muscled tightened, her hips bucked forward slightly and her face was a mask of anticipation. She was fucking beautiful. Still playing in her hair, I delivered light kisses along her inner thighs. She parted them more for me. I ran my other hand lightly across her stomach watching the muscles in her arms as she held on to the bedding. I ran a finger gently across her clit, she held her breath. I was pretty wet myself by now and I wanted out of my clothing, but pleasing her took precedence. I pushed her thighs wider apart, lowered my head and blew gently. Her hips bucked forward and a moan like music filled the room. I played making contact with everything except her clit. I’d save that for last.

I couldn’t stop myself once I started. I had every intention of holding back, but her body wouldn’t let me. Much later sex turned into making love. Not what I wanted. I found myself wanting to touch her deeper and in more places than just the physical. Every orgasm was accentuated by sweet moans and the sound of my name erupting from her. She was music. My new favorite tune for the moment, a song I wanted to play over and over and over again. I could do this forever and I had yet to find that woman who could match my stride. I often wondered if there was a woman out there who could wear me out first. Lenore had fared better than most. It soon became easy to see that I was walking that fine line between pleasure and torture. I pulled her close to me. She had to stop touching me or this wouldn’t end. I splayed my body on top of hers. She writhed beneath me kissing my lips, my chin then finally flicking her tongue across my erect nipples. I lifted her face and kissed her I stroked her body placing my thigh between her legs and spreading them. Her last orgasm with me would be one she would not easily forget. I sent my fingers deep inside of her, captured her nipple between my lips and rocked her hard. She arched and moaned. I replaced my fingers with my mouth and feasted on her sweetness. When she came I held on tightly right there with her. Our mingled moans hung in the air. I pressed against her until her tremors subsided. Gasping for breath I kissed her gently the taste of her sweat sweet on my tongue. I rested my head between her breasts and reminded myself again what this was. I would never see her again.

She stroked my back and my mind screamed for her to stop touching me. I pulled her hands away. I rolled away from her and she rolled towards me. She was exhausted and more beautiful than when we began. Her chest heaved her body was spent. I ran my fingertips along the side of her face. Then I caught myself and closed my eyes. This is a one night stand, I reminded myself for the fourth or fifth time. She wrapped her frame around mine and shuddered. I reached for something to cover her with the sheets in a heap somewhere out of my reach. I released myself from her long enough to retrieved a sheet and covered her beautiful body, before she reached for me pulling me back into bed rewrapping herself around me. She nuzzled close holding me as tightly as she could. She whispered in my ear, “Cheyenne, promise me you won’t leave.” My body stiffened briefly, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes pretending to doze knowing that I wouldn’t make that promise. Because when the opportunity came I would. I would leave. I always did.

I waited, listening closely to sound of her breathing. She stirred a few times tightening her hold on me. I could see dawn peeking through the curtains. I had to get out of here. I rolled towards her in an effort to loosen her hold on me. I was able to free myself. The room looked like it had been searched by the police. There was shit everywhere. I found most of my clothing. I walked quietly to the bathroom and dressed. I avoided looking at my reflection in the mirror. “I have to stop doing this.” I said to myself, again. I really didn’t want to leave. I just had to.

I found my jacket behind the bar and slipped it on. I checked my pockets making sure my cell phone, wallet and keys were just where I’d left them. I walked back to the bed and looked at her again.
She looked so peaceful. A pang of guilt hit me hard thinking how pissed she would be with me when she woke and found I was gone. This is the part I hate. I left the room quietly closing the door behind me. My eyes stung. I rested my head on the door, “I’ve got to stop doing this,” I said to myself again, as I made my way towards the elevator.

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