by Zeia Jameson
“Holy fuck, Jeremy!” I let out.
“Yeah.” Is all he replied. My palms were both pressed flat on the counter. I moved one hand in his direction to touch his hair but he reached over and grabbed my wrist only to reposition my hand back on the counter. “Not yet,” he said. Our eyes connected. “Let me enjoy the dress.” His assertiveness was making my insides shutter. In a good way. I could only nod in response. The hand he used to put my arm back to its apparently rightful position was now on my shoulder, eagerly pulling down the straps of my dress and bra. His right hand was still in between my legs, winding me up tighter than a pin coil as he brought his other hand up to my exposed breast and squeezed.
“So beautiful,” he said, before he placed the handful of my bare skin in his mouth. Oh God. He was teasing the most sensitive spots of my body and I suddenly left the atmosphere. “Jesus, Jeremy. Please don’t stop.” On that command, he exhaled and turned up the teasing a few notches. It was then that I felt his own excitement tapping itself against my leg.
“Jeremy,” I said once again, perhaps a little louder. My wound up pin coil shattered into infinite pieces and floated ever so pleasantly back into the atmosphere. Jeremy kissed me and positioned himself to enter me. Once he did, he lifted me up and spun us around again. He found the closest wall available and crashed me into it. His thrusts were quick and impatient but it felt incredible. I let out a moan as he was working his mouth on my breasts again. I grabbed his hair with both my hands and pulled like I was trying to rip his hair out. His head angled back and we looked at each other for a short second. Then I crashed my mouth into his. It was rough but so hot. My nerve endings had never been so sensitive and the feelings from them had never been so intense. His thrusts became harder and our lips stayed connected. I briefly feared we were going to go through the wall. I felt myself going to the edge again. “I’m so close Jeremy,” I whispered. After my back hit the wall a few more times I came undone. I cried out and not too far after Jeremy chimed in with his own grunty noises. He smashed me into the wall one final time and kissed me. We were both breathing way too hard to speak. We just looked at each other as our chests rose and fell in unison. Jeremy took a step back with a firm grip around me and managed to squat down and lower us both to the ground. He kissed me once more before laying back onto the tile floor and stretched his arms over his head. “Holy fuck,” he panted out.
“Yeah,” I feebly retorted. My body was numb. I was sitting up, straddled over him. I eased up and created space between us keeping in mind that while I may have been numb, Jeremy’s nether area was still at a quite delicate state. He made a small fuss as I moved away. I only had energy enough to lie on the floor beside him. On my back. With my dress only half way on. But the cool tile floor felt nice against my uncovered skin.
“Please, please, please. I beg you, and will give you or do anything you want. It is imperative that this is not the last time I see you in a dress,” Jeremy said to me after he turned his head in my direction.
“Well, if the outcome is even remotely similar to what just happened, I’ll wear a dress every fucking day.”
“Good.”
After lying on the floor for nearly an hour, finally recovered enough to make any gesture that wasn’t just being still and breathing, I spoke. “I don’t understand what you do to me.”
“Do you have to understand it?” Jeremy mumbled. I considered his question and continued to be still and just breathe for a few moments. It was a simple Yes or No question to which I couldn’t provide an answer. Of course I wanted to understand how a single individual could make me make decisions I wouldn’t normally make, act in ways I wouldn’t normally act and have feelings I wouldn’t normally feel. If it hadn’t been for Jeremy, I probably would have told Joe and Sara to politely fuck off in regards to attending my graduation ceremony. And if it hadn’t been for how I had imagined Jeremy’s reaction to be when Sara suggested my attire for the evening, it would have taken nothing short of my own funeral to get me to wear a dress.
But perhaps I didn’t want to understand. Maybe the explanation was that I was so subconsciously desperate and wanting for companionship, I took everything Jeremy was willing to offer without abandon and that I could very possibly be setting myself up for a disaster of epic magnitude.
My mind swirled with post-coital endorphins and a scattering of words to formulate an appeasing and appropriate answer to Jeremy’s question. The best and most honest answer I could come up with was, “These past few months have been good to you and me. I guess I should just leave well enough alone and not attempt to break what’s not broken just to see how it was put together in the first place…right?” I questioned. Not just to Jeremy but also to myself.
Jeremy rolled his entire body over to face me. Still lying flat on the floor, I only turned my head in response. He bent his arm and supported his head in his hand. With his other hand, he moved my dress around to cover up all of the exposed skin of my chest which had been lying there, unabashed, for at least forty-five minutes. He looked me in the eye and smiled. “I think you are exactly right.” He leaned in and kissed me gently. Then, Jeremy helped me up from the floor and led me into the bedroom, where he slowly and strategically undressed me and proceeded to worship my body like a deity until we both passed out from exhaustion.
~~~
I’m off from work today and am sitting around my apartment, trying to find something to occupy my time until Jeremy gets off work. I’ve found that my free time has become more common and more unsettling now that I don’t have to attend class or study so often. I should be relieved that I no longer have to spend my precious time cramming useless knowledge into my brain until I’m cross-eyed. But the reality is that even when I’m curled up in my comfortable oversized chair with an enticing book, I’m restless. I feel this strong, overbearing urge to move around and be productive. And that, for some reason makes me feel anxious. I’m in the process of wiping down the kitchen counter for the third time today, when I realize I’m acting like a crazy person and I halt my cleaning frenzy.
Jeremy and I are going out tonight. He wants to take me dancing. Not like sleazy, night club dancing. Jazzy, blues club dancing. I’m intrigued. It’s something I’d always fantasized over after reading about it in books or seeing scenes as such take place on a television screen. A low lit dance floor with a substantial, brassy band in the background and someone like Louis Armstrong or Etta James rasping out lyrics involving heartache and longing. It always seemed brutally romantic and stunningly inviting to think of people dancing to someone else’s sadness. I, of course, never envisioned myself being the one dancing. That would have required that I ever imagined myself garbed up in dancing attire. I always thought about Fred Astaire and Rita Hayworth or Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman. I’ve even often thought of Heathcliff and Catherine dancing out there on the floor, and eerily enough, as an elderly couple.
I say I never envisioned myself, but that is a lie. I had mentioned to Jeremy my fascination with this seemingly antiquated form of evening entertainment and he vowed to take me. After that, I caught myself lying in bed well after Jeremy had fallen asleep for the night, with fantasies of Jeremy and I, dressed to the nines, snuggled tightly to one another, swaying on a dance floor.
Sara helped me pick out a dress and heels that aren’t too terribly uncomfortable. Dresses and heels still aren’t my thing but after my graduation night I’ll wear whatever the fuck Jeremy wants just to make him happy. Because I love making him happy. It is my most favorite thing to do lately. Sara should be leaving for work shortly and I’ll begin getting ready. Jeremy will be here in about two hours so I’ll have time to take a long bath—a nice presoak for my feet as an advanced thank you for not hating me after a long night in heels. And hopefully the bath will also ease my urges to stay perpetually in motion.
Sara comes out of her room with her phone in hand. She looks scared shitless. “Sara?” I ask, “what’s the matter?”
She looks
at me and immediately begins crying. “I got a job.”
“That’s awesome! Why are you crying?”
“It’s in Connecticut. “
I look at her puzzled, probably for longer than I should have. But then, realization hits me.
She’s crying because she’s leaving.
She’s crying because she’s leaving me.
I have to find a new roommate.
I have to find a new bar employee.
Fuck.
“Sara, why are you upset?” I ask as I push away all of the thoughts that are cramming my head.
“I’ve been trying really hard to find something here, but I heard about the Connecticut job working with a clinical therapist who has been in my field for twenty-five years. He has like fifty publications in American Science Journal. I would have been stupid not to apply. And I really didn’t think I’d have a shot.” She’s looking down at her feet like she’s remorseful.
“Sara. If this is your dream job or your chance of a lifetime then you have no reason to be upset. I’m happy for you. Really. I hate that you’ll be leaving but I’ll be fine. I’ll figure it out. You can’t stop your life for me. I’m just the roommate.”
Sara hugs me tight. Still crying. And I make a feeble attempt to hug her back. “Thank you, Livy. I’m really excited. But, I am going to miss you so much. You aren’t just a roommate.”
I pat her on the back lightly. “I’m going to miss you too,” I return.
“You are the best roommate I could have asked for. You are so mature and drama free. And you knew how to do all the manly shit around here. Fix the sink when it was clogged. Change out the ceiling fan when the old one broke. Hang the mirror in the hallway.”
I release my embrace, “Uh, thanks?”
“You know that’s a compliment. You are self-sufficient. I’m not even close. I don’t know how I’m going to survive without you.”
“I’m sure you’ll manage just fine.”
“Probably.” She wipes her face and rights herself. “Now, go get ready for your man. That stud of yours is going to break his jaw when it falls to the floor seeing you in that dress we picked out. And those heels? Whoa mama!”
I roll my eyes. But truthfully, I am looking forward to the look on his face.
“Have fun tonight! Stay out of my room!” Ever since the first night Jeremy came over, it’s become a running joke.
“No worries, soon enough you’ll be in Connecticut and I’ll have both rooms to myself.”
Sara smiles but I can tell she’s still a little sad. “You sure will,” she says. I think she’s going to start crying again. But instead she turns so she’s no longer facing me and grabs her purse. “I have to go. See you later.” Before I have a chance to respond, she’s out the door.
I head to my bedroom and sit on the edge of my bed to take in the news Sara just delivered. I’m not sure what to think. I mean it’s not like we’re BFFs. Hardly. She’s night clubs and lipstick and designer heels, when she can find them on sale. I’m Friday night books in my favorite chair, haven’t cut my hair in three years and shove as much money into my Roth IRA that I can manage. Not sisters from different misters by any means. We don’t even really hang out with each other. Except for the very few occasions our schedules align and we find ourselves occupying the apartment on the same afternoon. But we had coexisted in the same apartment without complication. Neither of us ever bitched at the other for being messy or hogging the shower or disturbing the peace in the middle of the night. It helped me transition in my move to the city with one less stressor to deal with. And I will forever be grateful for that. That’s something I should probably tell Sara.
A car horn beeps outside my window and I snap out of my nostalgic rumination. I look at the clock.
Shit! I’ve got to get these feet soaking!!!
~~~
There’s a knock at the door and as always my heart flutters. But I can’t run to the door as usual because of these insane heels. I make my way from the bedroom to the door, probably looking like a baby ostrich just learning to walk. I could have very easily waited to put my shoes on after I let Jeremy in but I needed the heel-walking practice and I wanted Jeremy to see the whole get up at first sight. I make it to the door and grab the handle, more for balance than for being the prompt, courteous hostess.
I open the door.
Jeremy has his head down and lifts it as I reveal myself from behind the door.
He’s holding wildflowers.
He was holding wildflowers.
Now they’re on the floor and he has his hands engulfing my face. His lips on mine.
We stand in the threshold of the doorway and kiss for quite some time, until one of the neighbors walks by and clears her throat as if we are ruining her day. Jeremy pushes me inside. His hands are fumbling around the back of my dress. “This dress is amazing but it has to come off. Now. “
I turn so he has full visibility of the zipper. He unzips my dress and it falls to the floor. I step out of it, making conscience effort to appear sexy and not ostrich-y. I turn and face him. All I have left on is a black push up bustier and matching black lace panties.
And tall, spiky fuck me heels.
“God. Dammit. Do you moonlight as a porn star?”
I grin as devilishly as I can, “Not anymore.”
He leaps towards me and puts one hand on the back of my head and closes in for a sharp, breathtaking kiss. His other hand is under my ass lifting me up. I wrap my legs around his waist.
“I never thought I’d have something this sexy wrapped around me.”
“But we’ve been in this exact predicament before,” I respond in amused confusion “or don’t you recall?”
“Oh yeah. I remember. But you are dressed in all black and those shoes...you look like some kind of dominatrix. You are so fucking hot. Jesus Christ, Livy, I feel like the luckiest man on earth right now.”
His words are crude. But his reaction is really turning me on.
He kisses me once more and then looks to the left and right, seemingly planning his next move. He walks us over to the small dining table where we once ate steaks.
“Do you know what these heels are good for?” Jeremy asks. My arms are draped loosely around his neck. I smile my devilish grin again and slowly shake my head no.
Jeremy motions me to uncross my legs and stand. I take my time so not to wobble. He kisses me and then makes his way down to my neck. He kisses my collarbone and I groan softly. He puts his hands on my waist and spins me around. Now I’m facing the table with Jeremy at my back. He places one hand around my stomach and one hand on my back, near my neck, and gently pushes so that I’m bent over the table.
Holy mother.
I spread my arms out over the table and let him take full control. He places his hand on my ass and squeezes. “Just as I suspected. These heels make you the perfect height.”
My hearts jumps out of my throat right onto the table.
Dinner is fucking served.
I can’t see him. But I can feel Jeremy move. His hands are on my calves. “Your legs are so fucking beautiful.” His hands slowly move upward and I have chill bumps on top of my chill bumps. He’s back up to my ass now. He gives another good squeeze on each cheek and grabs my panties. He pulls them down and I feel them fall to the floor to my ankles.
“My God, what a view. I’m going to have to take a picture and show all my friends.”
He’s joking, I know.
“Well if you must,” I say with my head turned sideways, partially compressed by the table. “But only close friends please.”
His hands move up my legs again and they smooth over my ass once more. He places both hands in between my legs and motions me to move them farther apart. I abide.
His hands move up to the center and meet. His fingers move. Taunting. Teasing. I moan and writhe on the table. I feel completely exposed and vulnerable but I like it. I trust Jeremy, and I am wholly contented with allowing him to do whateve
r he wants. As he does. His fingers cease in their movements and I feel an instant void. But as quickly as the fingers are gone, they are replaced with his hot breath. And tongue.
“Oh, God, Jeremy!” I’m searching the table with my hands for something to grab on to. I come up with nothing. He continues this glorious torture on me and I rise and fall into oblivion. I’m shouting and panting. My legs are shaking. I feel like I’m going to crumble to the ground when Jeremy stands and grabs my hips to steady me.
He leans over me and whispers into my ear. “You ok?”
I nod, face still contorted by the table. I am so uncomfortably comfortable.
Jeremy kisses the side of my face and stands up. I hear the sounds of his zipper and then belt clanging to the floor. He grabs my hips and I feel him kiss my back. “So fucking sexy,” I hear him whisper. He firms his grip on my hips and he enters me. Slowly and gently at first. Even in the first few motions, I feel as though I’m going to explode again. He picks up his stride and fervency. Noises are coming from us both that might sound murderous out of context. Each thrust is powerful and electric. The sensation is beginning to build up.
“Jeremy,” I exhale.
“Livy,” he responds.
Hearing my name depart his throat sends me over the edge. “Oh my god!” I’ve yet to find anything my hands can grasp for leverage, so I press my fists into the flat surface of the table. Jeremy’s final movements are so vigorous, we move the damn table a good six inches.
Jeremy leans over me and kisses my back between my shoulder blades. “Wow.”
“Yeah,” I say.
Jeremy stands, lifts me up to a standing position and turns me around to face him. I wobble and try to gather my bearings. Between the heels, being plastered to a dining table and the multiple orgasms, I’m a little off kilter. Jeremy wraps his arms around me and chuckles. “I can’t get enough of you. You are like a fucking drug. I’m a Livy junkie.”
