Wild Nights

by Therese Szymanski

  “It really is too cold for me to worry about you taking off all of your clothes,” she says, smugly crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Sometimes clothing just falls off,” I say, as I cautiously start to climb onto the hood. “In fact, some of my clothes have already fallen off.” I give her a so-there look, then balance myself on my knees on the hood using both of my hands to steady myself.

  “Really. I can’t imagine which pieces could have fallen off on the ride over here,” she says, extending her arm for me to position myself on the coat.

  I accept it and turn sitting on my butt with one leg straight out and the other bent at the knee. I let go of her arm and support my upper body on my left elbow. I cock my head and pose again, knowing she can see my cleavage at the top of the sweater and if she were to bend just slightly she’d be able to see up my skirt where the stockings and garter belt frame my bare cunt. “Then look,” I taunt her, “if you can’t guess.”

  She laughs, then steps closer, grabbing both of my ankles and pulling me toward her so my legs are on either side of her. I rest my feet on the bumper as she pushes my knees open and slides her hand up the length of my stockinged leg. When her fingers encounter the strap of the garter belt, she pauses to pull on it gently, then moans and continues up my thigh and into my bare, wet cunt.

  “Fresh,” I say, slapping at her, but she catches my wrist with her free hand and pins it to the hood before I am able to make contact with her face.

  “No panties? Where could they have gone?” she says as she slips one finger into me.

  I moan.

  “You’re so exposed without panties, so open and wet.” She inserts another finger, thrusting into me harder this time. “Such a bad girl. Someone who didn’t know better would think you wanted to get fucked.” She pulls both fingers out and works my clit in a hard circular motion.

  “Someone who didn’t know better would think you wanted to fuck me,” I say with mock sarcasm.

  “Hmm.” She removes her hand from between my legs and releases my wrist. As I look up into the dark sky full of stars, I can hear the zipper on her pants slide down and imagine her pulling the 8-inch dildo out of the zipper opening and rebuckling her belt to hold it in place. “Luckily for me, you aren’t someone who knows better,” she says, grabbing both of my ankles and sliding me to the end of the hood.

  I am exactly at the correct height for her to fuck me, which isn’t luck at all, because I had checked last week to make sure of this fact before insisting on taking the Z, just in case she decided to pack.

  I place my legs on her shoulders and she leans into me, unbuttoning the front of my cashmere sweater. With the help of my push-up bra, even on my back I have cleavage. Wendy buries her face in the valley of my breasts. Her flesh is warm against mine. She pulls the lace demi-cups to the side, exposing my hard nipples and the soft fleshy, swells of my breasts. Wendy takes a nipple into her mouth, sucks on it, pulls on the ring that runs through it, and bites the hardening flesh gently. She licks and kisses her way across my chest to the other nipple, where she repeats the process. In her wake she leaves wetness that the cold air turns into a stream of goose bumps across my excited skin.

  I feel the head of the dildo against my labia, then the pressure as it enters my cunt. Wendy slides in slowly until the whole length of it is inside of me. She grabs my hips to hold me in place and prevent me from sliding, then slams into me. Her strokes are firm and sure. She’s familiar with the terrain and the tool. Wendy pulls out until just the tip is inside of me, then plunges back in, once again burying the entire dildo. I moan more loudly with each stroke. I am excited by the fact that we are breaking the law by fucking in such a public place and even more excited by the sensation her belt buckle causes on each inward stroke when it hits my clit.

  “Fuck me,” I say, grabbing her hair and pulling her closer to me, and she grunts as she pounds into me harder. I feel the width of the dildo fill me up, then leave me empty with each stroke. I am sure the next inward plunge will make me come as my clit swells from the contact with her buckle. She locks her mouth on my nipple. Sucking hard, she works it with her tongue as she thrusts into me. The car rocks slightly with each inward stroke she takes.

  “Come for me,” she orders, and her words push me over the top as she thrusts into me. I come hard, squeezing my fingers into her arms as she thrusts one last time before collapsing on top of me as my orgasm pulses through me.

  The car shakes and her glass, half full, tumbles to the concrete ground, shattering on impact. We both look in that direction, startled at the noise and suddenly how unaware we have been of our surroundings. We laugh, realizing what has caused the glass to fall and create the distraction.

  “We should go before anyone catches us,” I say.

  “Yeah.” She kisses me, then pulls out.

  I button my sweater as she removes the dildo from her pants. Wendy helps me off of the car and wraps the coat around my shoulders. She opens the door and tosses the dildo into the empty bag, then grabs the box containing our rings while I grab my champagne glass. We return to the front of the car and I place the glass on the hood. She kisses me on the forehead, then opens the box. Our matching rings sit inside on a velvet lining. Wendy removes the one with her name on it and hands me the one with my name on it. Placing the box on the hood, she pulls me in close to her.

  “I pledge my love to you forever,” Wendy says, slipping the silver band on my finger.

  “And I pledge my life, my love, my everything to you forever,” I say, slipping a nearly identical ring on her finger.

  We kiss with our bodies pressed against each other’s—a lifetime together before us, the possibilities endless—then each take a sip of the last of the Brut.

  Wendy deposits the empty champagne bottle and the bits of glass into the trash near the stairwell exit while I add the box and the remaining glass to the dildo in the bag. We get back into the car. As she drives down the ramps, I notice more cars have filled up the spaces that were empty before. People have started to arrive to go to the clubs or to eat. She hands the attendant our ticket and $3 and he opens the gate. We have a dinner reservation at an Italian restaurant in the North End that is the home to the city’s best lobster ravioli and a wandering accordion player who serenades lovers. Our anniversary celebration and our lives together have just started.

  A Night Like No Other

  Lynn Ames

  I waited in the airport and paced, unsure what I would say or how I would react when I finally saw Marina in person for the first time. My stomach fluttered with nerves. I knew I wanted her to be The One even though she’d told me we had no future together and that she didn’t want to hurt me by leading me to believe otherwise. I knew I wanted her to be the one because her e-mails already had me desperately in love with her mind and her heart. I knew I wanted her to be the one even before she’d sent me that incredible picture of her coming out of the surf in the black bikini, water droplets beading on her perfect skin.

  The crowd coming out past security was thick, but I would’ve known her anywhere. She was even more beautiful than her picture. I was instantly wet. She smiled and I was lost—lost and irrevocably in love.

  “Hi. Nice sign,” she said, pointing to the piece of paper I held aloft. “And that’s Queen Marina to you. Princess, pfft, really.” She winked and, catching me completely off-guard, drew me into a body-tingling hug.

  “Hi,” I breathed into her nearby ear. “I can’t believe you’re really here.” It was a start.

  “You’ve got a beautiful smile, anyone ever tell you that?”

  My whole body was still singing from the hug, even after she pulled back. Those incredibly expressive brown eyes, the high cheekbones, the body to die for and the heavenly smell. I realized she was smiling at me knowingly, waiting for me to say something. What had she asked me again? Oh, yeah. I blushed.

  She shook her head. “You are too cute for words. Shall we?” She took me by the arm and led the
way out of the airport.

  It was late when we arrived at the hotel in midtown Manhattan. She had made me promise there would be two double beds in the room. Somehow I hoped she’d changed her mind. She hadn’t. To say I was mildly disappointed would’ve been an understatement. Still I waited for Marina to choose a bed, and I dropped my duffle bag onto the other without complaint. I thought I was doing pretty well until she came out of the bathroom wearing red silk boxers and a matching top.

  My mouth went dry, all moisture in my body having pooled elsewhere. I crossed my legs tightly and stifled a groan.

  “Your turn,” she said brightly.

  “I . . . I think I’ll take a quick shower,” I said, hastily throwing together my toiletries and nightclothes. Two nights of this. I didn’t know if I could take it.

  I let the cool spray wash over my trembling limbs. I reminded myself that she only wanted friendship. What was it she’d said?

  “Justine, we’re at different places in our lives; I love you, but I can’t go back where you are, and you shouldn’t try to jump ahead to where I am. It just wouldn’t work.”

  That was all well and good, but it did nothing to diminish my love. Not only that, I was incapable of controlling my body’s reaction to her. I wanted her so much it hurt.

  I soaped my torso, my nipples taut and sensitive as my fingertips brushed over them with the body wash. I gasped, pinching my right nipple. My left hand stroked its way down to where my clitoris throbbed painfully.

  I nearly came at the first touch. Seeing her that way, as I had imagined her so many times in my dreams, hit me hard. I’d thought I was prepared for the proximity. Clearly, I’d been wrong. A vision of her emerging from the bathroom played in my mind’s eye, and I swore I could smell her perfume. The climax ripped through me, and I bit my lip to avoid crying out.

  When I returned to the room half an hour later, having done my best to compose myself, she was asleep. Her hair, long and silky, played across the pillow, the darkness of it in sharp contrast to the white pillowcase. Her leg, sun-kissed and golden, was thrown carelessly over the covers. She looked like an angel.

  I tiptoed to my bed, pulled back the covers, and slid in, snapping off the light over the headboard. In the darkness, I heard her mumble, “Sorry I’m such a party pooper. I’m whipped.”

  “That’s okay,” I said, as the huskiness of her voice seeped in through every pore.

  I dreamed that she came to me. I watched in amazement as she slowly unbuttoned her top, cradled her breasts in her palms and licked her lips seductively. She knelt on the bed and crawled toward me on all fours, her breasts swaying. The look of intent in her eyes was unmistakable.

  “I want you, Justine,” she said seductively. “I want to be the first to really make love to you, the first to bring you to orgasm.”

  “Yes, I want that, too. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. Take me, please,” I begged. As I felt her mouth close over me, I arched into her and moaned.

  “Hey. Hey, Justine. You okay?”

  “Mmm.” Her hand was warm on my shoulder. My shoulder? I shot up in bed, narrowly avoiding a collision with her face. “Wha?”

  “Shh. It’s okay,” she said, laying a hand on my shoulder.

  Did she know what I’d been dreaming? God. I swallowed hard, still trembling, my body thrumming with desire, demanding satisfaction. I didn’t trust myself to speak.

  She stroked my hair, whispering soothing words in my ear. I thought I’d go mad.

  “I . . .” I cleared my throat. “I’m okay.”

  She backed away but remained sitting on the side of the bed facing me, her thigh pressed against mine. “Do you have nightmares often?”

  “Nightma . . . Oh, um, sometimes.” It was the truth, although the only thing bad about this dream was being awakened too soon.

  “Are you gonna be okay now?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.” I smiled at her briefly. “I’m sorry I woke you.”

  “No problem. I’m a very light sleeper. If you need me, I’ll be right over there.” She inclined her head toward the other bed, concern etched in her features.

  If I need you, will you stay with me? I wanted to ask the question out loud but knew I’d be taking shameless advantage of her. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I nodded and watched her return to her bed.

  I spent what little was left of the night tossing and turning— afraid to fall deeply asleep lest I have another mind-blowing dream.

  “You sure you’re up for a show and dinner?” she asked as we brunched at Ellen’s Stardust Diner.

  “Of course, I’ve been looking forward to it.”

  “You must be exhausted.”

  I was, but I wasn’t about to admit it. Looking into those sparkling eyes, I wanted to give her the world. The idea to see a Broadway show had been hers, and I would’ve done anything to fulfill her wish.

  We went to the TKTS booth in the middle of Times Square and queued up with hundreds of interesting characters. Marina, an expert on New York City, assured me it was the best way to get half-price same-day tickets to Broadway shows, and the people watching was well worth braving the long line. She let me pick the show; I went for Beauty and the Beast. It mirrored how I felt about our relationship.

  Not that I considered myself a beast, but I felt as though I’d been a prisoner in my own castle until Marina came into my life. For the last several years, I’d been wondering if I was frigid—I’d never found anyone who could move me. Marina, on the other hand, could make me wet with a word in an e-mail. I sighed. Having her by my side for thirty-six glorious hours was both a torture and a joy. I wouldn’t have traded it for anything in the world.

  We sat in the third row center; I’d never been so close to the stage. When she took my hand during the second act, my heart stuttered. The softness of her skin, the way our fingers naturally melded together—it felt so right.

  I asked myself why she would make such a gesture if all she wanted was friendship. Was it friendly to hold someone’s hand in the theater?

  When the show was over, she withdrew her hand. I felt the loss all the way down to my toes. She bumped my shoulder. “Did you enjoy the show?” she asked, her eyes twinkling with excitement.

  “Very much. I especially loved the second act.” I winked at her. She just smiled and led us out the side exit. I knew she wasn’t trying to tease me intentionally—at least I didn’t think so—but she was driving me insane. I wondered if she knew that and was enjoying the game.

  We shared a marvelous dinner at Carmello’s around the corner from the theater. Twice she leaned over and fed me from her fork. I returned the favor, my eyes mesmerized by her tongue, her lips, her throat. I spent long minutes lost in her gaze, daydreaming about what could be, if only she’d let it happen.

  Afterward, on the way back to the hotel, she held my hand again. If I hadn’t wanted her so badly, it might have been enough.

  When she came directly toward me in the hotel room wearing those red boxers and that button-down top with the top three buttons undone, my heart stopped beating.

  “I had a great day, did you?” she asked, standing less than a breath away from me.

  “It was magical,” I managed to reply.

  “Thank you.” She reached up and kissed me softly on the forehead, enveloping me in a sweet hug.

  I closed my eyes and savored the sensation.

  “Is this okay?” she asked.

  “Mmm hmm,” I answered, afraid my voice would fail me if I actually tried to form words. My heart, which had begun beating again, was practically jumping out of my chest. I was sure she could feel it against her breasts.

  “Good night, Justine. Sleep well.”

  “You too,” I said, even as my body was screaming at her to stay.

  I lay awake for several hours. My body was impossibly aroused by that one simple hug, and no matter what I tried, I couldn’t quench the fire that burned within. She’d said we had no fu
ture together. I accepted her position, even as I disagreed. She’d said it wouldn’t be fair to me. Was that her decision to make? I would’ve given anything—everything—to lay with her for a night, to know the taste of her, to hold her in my arms. I listened to her soft, even breathing . . . and made up my mind.

  Quietly, I pulled back the covers, swung my legs over the side, and crossed to the empty side of her bed. For several minutes, I simply stood there on shaky legs, watching her sleep. My palms were damp. So were my panties. I reached out, wanting to brush a stray hair from her face. I pulled back before making contact. Finally, I looked at the digital clock on the bedside table: 2:46 a.m. I was running out of time.

  As carefully as I could, I slid underneath her sheets. I was afraid to breathe, lest I wake her and send her screaming into the night. I propped myself up on my elbow and memorized her face. The strong jaw, the cute little nose and those full, luscious lips. Unable to contain myself anymore, I reached over, gently tracing the sensuous curve of her lips.

  Taking perhaps the biggest risk of my life, I whispered huskily, “I’m so hot for you.”

  I’m not sure what I thought would happen, but her next move both shocked and aroused me beyond words. Slowly, she opened her lips, running her tongue over my fingers, drawing my index finger into her mouth. She caressed it with her tongue, closed her lips and began to suck. My body trembled. I’d never felt anything half as sensual.

  “Can’t leave a girl hanging, can we?” she asked.

  Before I knew what was happening, she was hovering over me, still sucking my fingers, her thigh pressing against my center. I closed my eyes in ecstasy, even as my stomach churned with fear.

  “Are you sure this is what you want, baby?”

  Her look told me there was a second part to that question. She was asking if I really wanted this, knowing it would only be for one night. “Y-yes, it is.” I nodded, my eyes heavy-lidded with desire for her. I could think of no one I would’ve trusted more with my body or my heart.