They walked out of the restaurant and into the cool October evening, he following closely behind her. Though she heard his footsteps she slowed her pace a little, preferring that he walk with her. As they approached the car near the back of the dimly lit parking lot, she felt his hand gently touch the small of her back. She eased to a stop and leaned slightly toward him, brushing her shoulder against his chest. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then, his fingers stirred from her lower back to just beneath her rib. She took a quiet, deep breath.
His arm gently around her side, he led her to the car and opened her door. She slid into her seat quietly and buckled herself in. For the few seconds it took for him to walk to the driver’s side, she closed her eyes and saw herself from above, like a bird’s-eye shot in a movie. The fading voice of reason in her head issued its refrain, ‘be careful, be smart.’ But she was overwhelmed by the warmth.
Once he settled into the driver’s set, he looked over. She laid her head on the headrest, turning it towards the side and faced him. He reached over with his hand, and she let his knuckles glide over the softness of her cheeks and then over her lips. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back slightly, revealing her neck. She felt his fingers skate over her throat and follow the neckline of her dress. She opened her lips slightly and held them there while his fingers gently danced about her neck. He made her wait, but not for long as she heard him lean over. Then she felt his lips on hers.
She held his kiss until he opened his lips further. She opened her lips in response to his as he pressed in closer. She felt his other hand caress her shoulder and then gently move up her neck. She squirmed in an attempt to lean her body in toward him. By now she realized that she was hemmed in by the seat belt. She then heard the click of her belt release and felt the straps retract.
At this point, he backed away to his own seat. She opened her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed. If there had been enough light to notice, she imagined he would have seen them beet red. She looked at his face as though she was in a dream. He looked at her for a moment before reaching over with his right hand, resting it on her leg. He looked into her eyes as he reached down below the hem of her dress, just at the knee. His fingers touched her skin softly, slowly ascended the top of her thigh, easing up her dress in the process. His eyes remained in contact with hers. She held his eyes, locked in a roulette game of quiet desire. She felt his fingers easing up her thighs to the bottom of her panties. There, he held his hand and rested his fingers firmly where her legs met. She held his glance for a moment longer before closing her eyes and acquiesced. Slightly opening her legs, she took in a long, deliberate breath and exhaled slowly. His fingers reached further, gaining unfettered access to her waistband.
He pulled down her white, cotton panties as she lifted herself up slightly from the seat. He stopped just above the knee as she adjusted herself back into the seat. She felt him massage her with his fingers on the outside of her lips and situated both arms to her sides, extending them and grasping both the right and left edge of the seat. He swirled his fingers teasingly around her outer lips, and again she let out a long breath. She tilted her head back and nearly straight up when his first finger entered.
As he swirled inside of her, she tensed up her shoulders, arms and lower legs. She held tight for a moment before releasing herself and sinking deep into the seat. She slowly relaxed and let a warm numbness engulf her. She no longer felt the goosebumps on her bare arms. She relished his confident, mature hand fixed upon her vulnerability. It was a snapshot her mind created that she found stimulating. She drifted to a place she had visited once before, letting her body react to his touch. She gave herself unconditionally over, free from reason and reasonableness. It was pleasant and ethereal, less real and yet more perceivable at the same time. When he found and touched her spot, her nerves sent an immediate signal, and she flinched in response. Somehow she was aware that he had deftly gone from one finger to two. The movement inside of her was exquisitely pleasing. She basked in the swirl and touch, a gratifying dance between his moving fingers and her willing body that she didn’t want to end.
From somewhere within her viscera, a gentle rumbling began and unhurriedly moved outward to her limbs. She savored the moment. Then, another tremble followed a little more perceptible than the first. At the second time her breathing picked up pace, and as if on cue the dance moved deeper inside. She writhed a moment and then settled back again. Barely had a few seconds elapsed before her body quaked, and this time it was sustained. She felt as though the tips of each hair on her body were on fire, and the shaking would somehow put it out. But she was no longer in control, nor could she stop the vibrations; she didn’t want to. She wanted to follow this journey of gratification. She was unaware of her own whimpering with each breath she exhaled.
She reached to apex of sensitivity and wasn’t sure if she could feel his fingers anymore. Had he removed them? It didn’t matter. Her body continued to shake uncontrollably and her mouth opened wider, gasping for air. The intensity extended to the tips of her fingers and toes, as if a thousand prickly lights shot forth in tiny microscopic flashes. She held this feeling until a sudden chill swept over her. Her body made one last reach to suspend itself at the highest point before gravity pulled her down. Then she relaxed, the quivers subsiding while she sank back into the chair. The breathing slowed.
She opened her eyes and looked upon him. He smiled at her, though she wasn’t sure what it meant, if anything at all. Feeling exposed for the first time, she reached down and pulled her panties up, adjusting her dress as well. They sat there for a while, just looking at each other. The moonlight provided the only illumination, the dimness of his shadowed face, his dark eyes and eyebrows most prominent. She reached over with her right hand to the back of his neck and pulled herself to him, whereupon she tilted her head before searching his lips with her own. She kissed him for a long time, tasting him and devouring him. He was obliging, returning the favor with swirls of his tongue in her open mouth.
When it seemed time to break for air, she separated from him slowly, but kept her eyes on his. Again he smiled, then looked forward, as though suddenly aware of where he was.
“We should be going,” he said just barely above a whisper. She nodded in agreement, though in truth she was mystified by what he meant.
He started the car and she re-buckled her belt. She wanted to ask him many questions, many of which began with “why.” She wasn’t confused, but more curious than anything else. Then she realized that asking questions would ruin everything, that knowing too much spoiled the felicity. “The devil is in the details,” she remembered someone once tell her. All that really mattered is that he made her feel good, and in the car a few moments earlier he had brought her to ecstasy. She looked at her hand by the window and saw that it was still shaking, though ever so slightly – a remnant feeling. Just hours earlier she had met him under the most innocuous of circumstances.
Having been chased out of her study sanctuary by renovations, Ellen took refuge in a Starbucks just a few blocks away from campus. The surroundings were somewhat cold and angular, in stark contrast to the warm, oak-paneled corner of the library’s O’Connor Collection. She missed the familiarity of her comfortable haunt, but it seemed to be the thing to do – take the laptop and books, and then squat conspicuously at a Starbucks table for the requisite hour or two.
Before she settled into reading her book, she spied two tables away a gentleman absorbed in his laptop. Neatly dressed in a smart gray sport coat, tie and white dress shirt, he stood out from the other patrons. She figured he wasn’t a regular, but someone stopping in to gather messages. His dark and wavy hair was neat but seemed somewhat wonderfully unkempt for a man of his age – a man probably a few years younger than her father. Even with a limited view of his profile, she noticed a depth in his eyes and an intensity in his look. Both his eyes and brows were dark and confident. She envied his focus on his work and resolved that he was a businessman, probably successful – in what field, she wasn’t sure.
Try as she might, she couldn’t get past the second sentence of the paragraph without glimpsing back up above the top of the page and two tables away. The warmth of his glance caught her eyes.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve read Tolstoy,” he said, his voice as commanding yet as soft as his confidence. She looked at the cover as if she’d forgotten the title of the book and then set it down.
“It may take me a while to finish,” she answered. He held up his hand and apologized.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”
“No, no. You didn’t interrupt anything. In fact, I just realized I’ve been reading the same sentence like four times,” she responded, surprised at her own candor. “Have you read Anna Karenina?”
“Yes, in college. I had a crazy teacher who was nuts about Tolstoy,” he said with a grin.
“Well, this is my first encounter. I haven’t decided whether or not I really like him,” she said matter-of-factly.
“First? So you’re an English major?” he asked.
“Yes,” she responded, and then repositioned herself so that she faced him, though he was still two tables away. “Did you major in English?”
“No, political science, but sometimes I wish that I had,” he looked up as if in a pleasant reminiscence. “It’s not the most practical major, but in the long run it’s still personally fulfilling.”
“Do you read a lot?” she asked.
“Not as much as I’d like,” he looked back at her. “But it’s nice to see people still read the classics,” he paused for a moment. “Oh, by the way, I’m Mark.”
“I’m Ellen,” she automatically responded, raising her hand to her neck. “I’m a junior and the novel is part of a Russian Lit. class.” She wanted to seem intelligent to this stranger, sensing his ease and refinement in the way he spoke.
“Nice to meet you, Ellen,” he looked back at his laptop. “I’m catching up on some emails and waiting for a message,” he said slowly, as though his words could somehow conjure up the message on his monitor.
“What do you do?” she asked.
“I’m a lawyer,” he answered almost apologetically, then smiled. The warm feeling she had before had suddenly returned, nearly overwhelming her. She felt flush, not sure if it was his smile, his voice, or some combination of both. She was afraid he’d somehow noticed, so she feigned nonchalance.
“That’s good,” she answered, smiling back. Then she became self-conscious, thinking to herself “that’s good?” what a dumb thing to say. For no particular reason, she felt she needed to recover. “I like your jacket. It looks very smart and sophisticated with that tie and shirt.”
“Thank you,” he answered. “It’s all part of the lawyer uniform.”
“Are you involved in a trial?” she asked.
“No, I rarely see the courtroom. I’m a plaintiff’s attorney in town visiting a client. I’m doing some discovery work.”
“Sounds exciting,” she offered. He looked back at the monitor, catching sight of a new message.
“And it looks like I’ll be staying another day,” he said to her while reading the content of the new message. He leaned over and typed what appeared to be a response. Then, he looked over to Ellen, “I’ll need to make some overnight arrangements.”
“Just like that, huh?” she commented more than asked.
“Well, it’s the nature of what I do. That’s why I always travel with a change or two of clothes,” he explained. “It’s sometimes tough with a family, but my wife understands.” When he mentioned ‘wife,’ a shudder briefly went through Ellen’s chest. The reality of a wife sent a cool chill through her newfound warmth, and she chided herself for feeling this way.
She fidgeted for a moment before slowly gathering up her novel and notebook. She looked over at him in silence as he continued his typing. She was a bit sad that the conversation seemed to end, and felt compelled to say something. But he was immersed in his laptop, and the only thing that seemed appropriate was to say ‘good-bye.’ As she stood up with her things, he looked at her for a moment before speaking.
“I know this is bit forward and feel free to say ‘no,’” he hesitated. “But since I’ll be staying….. would you mind if I treated you to dinner tonight?” There was a momentary silence. Her eyes widened for a moment and the rush of warmth returned. She nodded her head.
“Yes,” she said meekly. “I think that would be nice.” He smiled and stood up.
“I have some arrangements I need to make and need to check into a hotel,” he said somewhat methodically before addressing her directly. “Do you like Northern Italian? I know of a nice place.”
“I don’t really know the difference between northern or southern, so I’ll have to take your word for it,” she answered, her pulse racing.
“I don’t want to presume anything, so should I pick you up or would you like to meet there? It’s no trouble for me either way.” He added. She couldn’t think clearly, still basking in the warmth, but summoned a response.
“How about if we meet here? It’s not far from my apartment,” she offered.
“Okay,” he said looking at his watch as he closed his laptop. “I’ll meet you here at seven thirty. How does that sound?”
“Great. I look forward to it.”
“Me too.”
Ellen led the way out of the Starbucks and turned left while he turned right to his car. She turned and waved to him as he walked to the parking lot, admiring his long, deliberate strides. She then headed homeward, walking briskly and clutching her novel close to her chest as though it was a child.
She arrived at her apartment a short while later. Her roommate Katie was away, as she usually was this time of day. Ellen had hoped that by some chance Katie would change her routine and be home. She was filled with a burst of energy and wanted to share with Katie her meeting with this older guy. Instead, she would have to pass the remainder of the afternoon playing devil’s advocate herself.
“Hmmm, what would Katie think?” she said out loud, though she knew the answer before she even formed the question. Katie, so solid and smart in almost all matters, would certainly tell her that she was out of her mind for meeting a strange guy and agreeing to have dinner with him. Then again, she also knew that Katie would ask many questions, no doubt intrigued about this mystery man as well.
She played this game for a long time as if it were a personal movie on a DVD player, replaying in her mind the conversation and scene in the Starbucks, analyzing the nuances of words and phrases, freezing the looks he gave her in her mind’s eye. Where her memory was a little vague on the details, she embellished the particulars, allowing her imagination to create flights of fancy that were never there.
She was no closer to figuring out why she accepted his invitation. Nonetheless, it did help her pass the time. And with the dinner hour approaching, she decided to get herself ready. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and thought to herself how much of a kid she must have appeared to him. Her shoulder-length hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She wore olive cargo-capri pants, a staple for study but not for fashion. She was less critical of her blouse, an understated white v-neck short-sleeve shirt that was something of her trademark look. She had three of these blouses, one each in pink, light blue and canary.
But this wouldn’t do. No, she needed to look older, more mature, more in keeping with an attorney dining in a nice Northern Italian restaurant.
She took a long shower, thinking that maybe the cleansing effect of the water would provide more clarity to her thoughts, but warmth and nervous excitement remained. Out of her closet she pulled out her cotton black dress. Tasteful, somewhat sophisticated, comfortable and most important of all, it fit her form nicely. She slip it on and looked at herself full-length, trying to achieve a look appropriate to the situation, though she wasn’t at all sure what this was. Just dinner with a nice guy, nothing more, she thought. Still, she studied the mirror and turned her torso and head sideways, noticing her figure for the first time in a long time.
Standing at average height for a twenty year-old, Ellen seemed pleased that she had retained most of the athletic physique she achieved through years of soccer and swimming. She had resisted the extra college weight that had found its way on so many of her friends, moving them up two and sometimes four sizes from their first days as freshmen. Her only real change from the last few years was that her curves achieved a more mature, womanly outline. She allowed herself to admire the form in the mirror, much like an art critic who allows himself the guilty pleasure of an out-of-vogue but sublime Cassatt. She liked herself in this dress, and accentuated the look with a pair of smart black flats.
She pulled her chestnut hair back and held it in place with a wide white head band. She made sure to be subtle with the make-up, since she didn’t want to give the impression of spending much time in getting ready. She lightly applied her mascara, eye-shadow and lipstick, only giving the slightest trace that they were there. She knew she didn’t need it, but she liked the effort. She knew she was a pretty girl who had a naturally pretty face, a nice figure and a perpetually light tan which gave off a soft glow on days like these.
As she collected her purse, she left a note for Katie telling her that she was having dinner out. She knew this would raise more than a few questions on her return, since she was usually very specific on her whereabouts when it came to Katie. She wasn’t sure whether to call it a date or to call it anything close to what it really was, dinner out with a guy she just met. Had it been a couple of weeks earlier, she would have been immersed in project work and wouldn’t have allowed herself to be distracted by the inexplicable warmth of a handsome older man. Had it been a month earlier, she would have been too caught up in her circle of friends. He found her at a moment when she stepped away from the safety of her convictions, of the conventional wisdom that told her to make practical decisions. Excitement and mystery were all well and good, but uncalculated risks led to an uncertain destiny, and these were uncharted waters in Ellen’s experience.
Her short walk to the Starbucks put her there just a few minutes late. She decided to wait at the door instead of going inside. In all likelihood, the baristas wouldn’t have cared if she waited inside, but she possessed a sense of propriety which said she had no business going inside if she wasn’t going to buy anything. His car arrived at the entrance as his passenger’s side window eased down. She walked up to the edge of the curb and opened the door herself.
“You haven’t been waiting long, have you?” he asked.
“No, your timing’s perfect. I just got here,” she answered and eased her way to the passenger’s seat, buckling herself in. His eyes gazed at her dress and face.
“You look very nice, Ellen,” he said sincerely.
“Thank you,” she responded. “I wasn’t exactly sure if this was a dress-up kind of place. I hope this is okay.”
“Oh, it’s fine,” he reassured her. She looked out the window and wondered how it was she didn’t know about this Northern Italian restaurant. Having lived in this small city for the better part of three years, she discovered that the insular quality of college life deprived her of knowing more about her surroundings. She welcomed the chance to experience something new.
The restaurant was small but tidy. By all appearances it was family-owned, the kind of place which survives and actually flourishes by word of mouth. It was a proud but unpretentious place, and this impressed Ellen’s regard for his good taste. She looked around and became self-conscious, wondering if anyone had taken notice of the young woman with the older man. Her concerns were quickly assuaged as it seemed no one looked up, with the host and waiter particularly hospitable in their welcome.
“This is nice,” she commented as the waiter seated her across from him.
“I like to eat here when I’m in town,” he offered.
“Do you make a lot of trips here?”
“Not with any regularity. The last time was over a year ago,” he said. She thought back to a year before and how so much had happened in that time to now. He interrupted her recollection, “Thank you for coming to dinner. I don’t mind eating alone and I do it so much that I’m used to it. But sitting there in the Starbucks, I thought how nice it was chatting with you. The least I could do was take you to dinner.”
“I’m flattered,” she responded. “I like talking with you, too.” She wasn’t sure how she wanted to put it, but she trusted him. His voice was reassuring. His gaze was warm. He exuded a maturity that was attractive and a demeanor that was humble. She tried to imagine him twenty years younger and whether or not his maturity was acquired with age or if he had possessed it all along. She intoxicated herself by the thought.
He ordered a glass of wine with dinner. Emboldened by her newfound comfort, she ventured to order a glass as well.
“Do you think they’ll serve me?” she asked him discreetly. “I’m not yet twenty-one.”
“I don’t think it’ll be a problem. I don’t think anyone would notice or care unless you ordered a carafe,” he answered. She smiled and basked in the ease of his presence, unaffected by the concerns she harbored just a few hours earlier.
“I don’t drink much, but my parents would serve wine with dinner. You know, to help us appreciate the taste of the food,” she said.
“Oh, your parents seem like they know a little about the finer things in life,” he said.
“Yes,” she answered. “I know a little about different reds, but I don’t drink enough to tell you what goes with what.”
“And where is home,” he asked.
“Texas.”
“Virginia’s a long way for a Texas girl to go to school,” he commented.
“Yes, but I wanted to go away for college,” she responded. “I don’t really know why, but I had a romantic notion that the college experience needed to occur beyond my back yard.”
“You must have a large back yard,” he said. She laughed spontaneously and shrugged her shoulders. He continued, “And as for family, any brothers and sisters?”
“Two older brothers,” she answered. “Both are brilliant, but they don’t get along with each other very well.”
“So you’re the youngest,” he surmised, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. He settled himself in his chair before resuming. “I have two myself, the oldest is fifteen, a boy, and the youngest, she’s thirteen. She’s a bit difficult but a lot like me.”
She liked knowing about his family. He spoke of his children fondly and with a genuine sense of delight. She learned of how he met his wife, as college sweethearts, just as she had imagined. She, in turn, shared her family life, of the doting mother and father who nevertheless took great efforts not to spoil her. She recollected the days of choosing her college and of the occasional homesickness that flared up occasionally, but in her heart she knew that longing for home made her appreciate her family. In her mind she made the connection with him as another wandering soul away from home, nostalgic and thoughtful. She relished the serendipity of the moment and gentle bliss of being with him at that table. She wanted nothing more than to bottle it and save it for another time, for a day when she anticipated the simple joys would be replaced by the unnecessary complexities. If the evening were to end right then and there, she would have considered it one of the best times of her life. And yet, there was nothing earth-moving or spectacular, nothing more than the soul-filling warmth he had brought to her that afternoon. She knew the dinner would end and accepted this inevitability gracefully.
When he paid the bill she thanked him for dinner and told him how wonderfully pleasant was the experience.
“I’m glad I met you today,” she added as she stood up to leave.
“The pleasure was mine, Ellen,” he said in his calming baritone as he motioned her to lead.
The car turned out of the parking lot and into the street, and she guessed he would soon be asking directions to her apartment. She was still trying to make sense of it all. Her hand shook a little less as she held it up to the window again. He was silent. He turned onto a thoroughfare and then to a highway which they hadn\\\'t traveled on the way to the restaurant. She figured he was taking her somewhere else.
The car pulled up to the entrance of a hotel lobby, one of the few which offered valet service. A uniformed gentleman opened her door, and she stepped out obligingly. She thanked him and waited until Mark walked around to lead her. He directed her through the lobby and acknowledged the concierge, who nodded back. She couldn’t help but look, wondering if the concierge was snickering. What she saw was professional disinterest, as if young women always passed through the lobby escorted by older businessmen. If she had any misgivings about stepping onto the elevator, they were blotted away by the opulence of the hotel. The walls, lighting and furnishings all seemed to say to her, “you belong here, Ellen.”
The elevator opened on the fourth level. They stepped out and walked a short distance before they arrived at a room – his room. He took his key out of his jacket pocket, unlocked the door, and let her step in. It was a large room as hotel rooms went.
He flipped on a switch, which lit a floor lamp near a sofa. She walked to the middle of the room and stopped, standing in the middle between the bed, the couch and the mahogany desk. She breathed in the smell of clean and hard wood varnish. She heard him remove his sport coat and step over to the floor lamp. Without any prompting, he turned off the light and then opened the curtains. The room filled with the glow of crescent moonlight. She faced the window and the moonlight. There was no real color in the room, only the shades of light gray from the window light and the darker gray of the shadows.
He stepped back behind her as she adjusted her eyes to the light and shadows. Without speaking a word, he touched her shoulder with one hand and wrapped his arm around her waist with the other. She leaned her head to one side, inviting him to her neck. She felt his kiss on her shoulder and up her neck to the lobe of her ear. It tickled her a bit, but it was a pleasing tickle. His hand caressed her belly and then ease upwards, stopping at her breast. She didn’t move in response, but relaxed in his embrace. Her breast wasn’t large enough to occupy his whole hand. His hand kneaded her, squeezed and released, then squeezed again. Even through the dress and bra, she was sure he could feel the contour of her nipple. She threw her shoulders back, accentuating her bustline and inviting him to indulge himself. He pressed against her and reached around so that now both of his hands were clutching her breasts. She tilted back her head to feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. She felt his desire in the grasp of his embrace. He squeezed and kneaded her breasts again. She knew that very soon he would want more than to feel her body through the dress.
He let go of her breast with one hand and found the zipper of her dress. As soon as she heard the “zeep,” her pulse quickened. He was deliberate and swift in his movement, though not desperate. He slipped her dress off of her shoulders and let it fall silently to the floor. She was impressed with his dexterity. He unclipped her bra and slipped her straps off her shoulders, again letting the garment fall silently. She felt his hands ease down her sides, studying her waist before slipping his fingers beneath the waistline of her panties. He continued by holding his hands apart and lowering her panties, so that she didn’t feel them descend her legs. Once below her knees, he released them. She stepped out of her flats, completely naked with half her body illuminated by the crescent moon. She still stood in front of him, both facing the bed and window.
He placed his hands on her shoulders and walked her toward to the bed. She felt his hands turn her around to where she faced her. She looked up at him, and he at her. He leaned in close and kissed her. She felt him gently nudge her to the edge of the bed, where she sat down. She leaned back and rested on her elbows on the bed, her legs still dangling over the edge. She watched in the moonlight as he removed his tie effortlessly but with determination. He unbuttoned his dress shirt and then removed his belt before unbuttoning his pants. It was all so fast but unrushed. In nearly one motion he slipped out of his pants and boxer shorts. She didn’t look down. She didn’t need to. She kept her eyes intent on his. She wanted him to be hungry for her. She let her chest rise and fall with every deep breath she took. And she wanted him to see this.
She felt his first touch on her shoulders, pressing her down onto the bed. His hands then reached down to her legs and spread them. He reached around and picked her up, lifting her up further onto the bed. She lifted her knees up in the air and rested the soles of her feet on the bed. She welcomed him between her legs, and he positioned himself deftly above her. She felt him searching for her. The contour of her legs guided him. She closed her eyes in preparation. The possibility of satisfying him filled her with immense gratification, and she raised no objections to his advance. He reached down and positioned the tip within her outer lips. She wondered if he would tease her. He didn’t wait. He bore down inside of her commandingly. As he pushed deeper, she winced and drew in a staggered breath.
She accepted the discomfort, arching her back to ease the resistance as she took him in. It was a small price to pay for the lightness of feeling she enjoyed. Up to this point he had said nothing, quietly and stealthily handling her until he uttered a barely perceptible “ahhh” once he pressed as far as he could go. She opened her eyes and beheld his chest and broad shoulders above her. His open shirt draped beneath his abdomen and covered her like a tent. He looked down into her eyes and then reached for her hands. She felt his fingers weaving into her own, clasping them tightly. He leaned closer, pinning her hands over her head. She was unable to move except for the movement of his body. She found herself stirred by his complete control, fascinated by the drive of his body to conquer hers.
His body began the undulating movement within and above her. He moved quickly and intently, wasting no motion in his upper body except to tighten his grip on her hands. She opened her eyes wider and panted for air, responding to his grip by squeezing his fingers. She kept her back arched, having yet to adjust to the discomfort of him inside her. This was not the earlier subtlety of his fingers exploring her sensitivity; it was an onslaught of force. He pressed on vigilantly, for how long she wasn’t sure. Time had somehow become suspended. Her back and leg muscles tensed when she met each of his thrusts.
With little warning, he lifted his shoulders up and gave a forceful push, holding himself deep. She could tell by the closing of his eyes and extending of his head that he was releasing inside of her. He flexed his arms, shoulders and chest and arched his own back.
After a few moments he unclasped his grip and exhaled. He dropped his head slowly and looked at her. It was a moment that was neither blissful nor awkward, just a gaze of wonder back into his eyes. As he started to retract, she relaxed her back and straightened her legs on the bed. He didn’t move, but remained inside of her, very much to her delight. He stroked her hair and alternately cupped her cheeks. She enjoyed being suspended beneath him.
The second time he explored her body, kissing her breasts and licking her nipples, making wet trails on her chest with his tongue. He removed her white headband and tossed it playfully to the floor. She removed his shirt and did likewise. He smothered his face in her hair, and she embraced him, wrapping her arms around his chest and digging her fingertips into his back. It was then that she noticed his scent. It was heavy but not musky. It came as much from him as it did from his cleanliness. It reminded her of a morning on the Carolina seashore, but more concentrated and somehow masculine. Again she was on her back when he took her. And again she arched her back for relief. He took his time with her, fondling her breasts and reaching around, pulling her backside to him. It must have been twenty minutes before she lifted her legs in the air and wrapped them around his sides, crossing her ankles at his lower back. He picked her up and held her body in the air. With both locked in a tight embrace, he pressed her tightly and released inside of her again. By now her brow and much of her body glowed with perspiration, their bodies sliding on each other. She wasn’t sure what was hers and what was his.
They rested in a quiet embrace for a half hour before he took her a third time. He entered her from behind, fondling her breasts as she crouched with her hands and knees on the bed. Then he reached around with his hand and found her spot. She squirmed with pleasure as he teased her with his fingers. Before long the rapture she experienced in the car returned, and though the pressuring discomfort of intercourse remained, she moaned gently in delight.
She wasn’t sure how long she had slept, but she awoke in a panicked daze as though her slumber had lasted hours. He was there next to her, watching her sleep the whole time. She looked to the bedside table, where the clock read 12:43am. He smiled at her, and said the first words since they had spoken in the car.
“You’ve only been asleep a few minutes,” he said. She looked around and came to her senses, relieved. She pulled her hair back and sat up.
“Will you take me home?” she asked.
“Of course.”
She slipped out of bed and found her clothes. The crescent moon had moved beyond the window and no longer threw light in the room. She dressed in the dark. He followed suit, dressing himself in his same pants and shirt. As they walked out of the room, he grabbed the sport coat from the chair and slipped his arms through it as the door closed behind him. She didn’t want him to wear the sport coat. Without the tie and in the hallway light, his sport coat gave him the looked of a married man who had seduced a young single woman. It was the look of a man who had just cheated on his wife.
Fifteen minutes later, the car pulled up near Ellen’s apartment. She didn’t know what to say, of what could possibly be appropriate. She reached over and caressed his cheek with her hand, and he rubbed her cheek with his knuckle. She then turned to the door handle, but he stopped her for a moment, taking her hand. He reached into the inside pocket of his sport coat and pulled out a business card, handing it to her. She held it for a moment and then gave him a smile, opened the door and stepped out. She didn’t offer a goodbye and neither did he before the car door closed. She heard the car drive off when she entered her quiet apartment.
She stepped quietly through the den and into the hallway which separated her room from Katie’s. Since Katie never closed her bedroom door, Ellen took off her shoes to pass quietly to her own room.
“You were out late,” came a quiet voice from the darkness of Katie’s room.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Ellen responded with a whisper.
“Who was it?” Katie asked. She could see Ellen’s profile in the doorway.
“A guy I met,” Ellen said evasively. She was tired and wanted the sanctuary of her room.
“Do I know him?” Katie persisted.
“No. I’ll tell you about it at breakfast,” she said, and retreated to her room.
“Good night,” Katie offered, but Ellen’s door had already closed.
Once inside her room, she took off her clothes. For a moment she hesitated before taking off her panties and changing into a clean pair. She draped herself in an oversized heavy t-shirt and sat on the bed for a moment. She took a deep breath before walking over to her dresser. She picked up his business card and read it. Why did he give it to me? She wondered. She put it back down on the dresser and picked up her dress off the floor. She held it up to her nose and inhaled. It was faint but she detected his scent. She wondered how much of his it still lingered on her body.
She put the dress away in the clothes basket and walked back over to the dresser. Again she picked up his business card and read it. Instead of putting it back, she opened up her jewelry box and nestled the card under the pearl earrings her mother had given her on her sixteenth birthday. She closed the lid gingerly, as though it held newly acquired treasure. She turned off the bedside lamp and slipped beneath the covers of her bed. In the silence of the crescent moonlight, she lay peacefully. Her body lay sore -- sore from him. Yet, within her stomach the warmth of his presence remained.
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