On the Line

by Donna Hill

  I began to move away from the window and immediately thereafter the basketball stopped bouncing. I turned back around, peeped out the window again briefly and saw him glaring directly at me. I read his eyes. They were asking questions, dangerous questions that I didn’t want him or his eyes to ask. I broke our line of communication and turned my back to him. I knew that the feeling aroused by the presence of Vince was as condemning as Eve telling Adam to bite the apple. My unspoken lust and infatuation with him was strong and no matter how badly my body yearned for him I couldn’t allow my desire to guide me into his arms. I was struggling with myself. I knew what was right and morally decent, but another part of me, a bold uninhibited part, wanted to take control and enjoy all of the pleasures that a man and a woman could take delight in.

  I had to fight off and get sexual thoughts of Vince out of my system, and the only quick remedy I could come up with was to give myself a quick orgasm and hope that it would gratify me. I went into my bathroom and filled up my whirlpool bath. Once it was ready, I disrobed and slipped inside. I rested my head comfortably on a towel, closed my eyes and began caressing myself. I imagined what Vince’s tongue would feel like kissing my breasts and stomach. It didn’t take long for me to satisfy myself. Once I was gratified, I relaxed even more and began to think about my life.

  I am a forty-five-year-old corporate attorney who works long, stressful hours. I’m also on my second marriage. This time I didn’t marry for love. I married for financial stability and wealth. My husband Charles is an excellent provider. He’s the president of a telecommunications company and travels often and works constantly. Charles is twelve years older than I am and is more in love his job and the power he has than he is with me. I knew he was a workaholic before I married him. I reasoned that marrying a workaholic was a bonus, because it meant he wouldn’t be bothering or harassing me so much because he’d have other priorities and that suited me just fine. My ex-husband was the type of man who needed to hear “I love you” all the time and stalked me on my cellular phone. At first I thought it was cute, but after three years of dealing with his insecurities and paranoia I’d had enough, especially after he physically attacked me because he thought I was creeping around on him.

  I began to feel bad as I thought about Charles and our young marriage. Our intimate life is okay. I’m able to reach a climax with him, but it’s not like he’s driving me wild. Sometimes I get so hot that I want to break free and get wild and crazy, but I can’t do that with Charles, because making love to him is predictable and fundamental. Sometimes I want Charles to take more time with foreplay, but he is a no-nonsense kind of man. He fumbles around until he gets an erection and he’s ready to go. If I’m lucky, I’m wet enough for penetration by the time he has a strong erection. Perhaps that’s why my interest in Vince is rather strong. Perhaps, in a creepy part of my brain, I want the same man in a younger version. It’s sad now that I think about it. I’ve been married to Charles for less than a year and I’m already having fantasies about other men. The horrifying part is that I’m not just having fantasies about some random guy. I’m having sexual fantasies about my twenty-four-year-old stepson. Lord, I need help, I thought to myself. Perhaps I’m not as satisfied with my sex life as I tell myself I am.

  After I got out of the whirlpool I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself. I didn’t look bad for my age. I watched my diet and worked out four times a week at the corporate health club. My skin hadn’t begun to sag around my chin or eyes yet and I was thankful my breasts still had plenty of perkiness. I was also proud of the fact that I looked younger than my years, or so I’ve been told on occasion. Whenever I’m complimented about how young I still look I always say, “Baby, black just doesn’t crack.”

  My ass was just that, my ass. No matter how many squats I do, my ass still has an attitude. I suppose I’m like many black women when it comes to my ass. At times I love the fullness of it and enjoy the pleasure it provides me with when it’s handled properly. However, at other times the size of it annoys the hell out of me. My ass is determined to be round and plump no matter what I do to tighten it up. I placed some lavender scented lotion on my body then put on my purple thong and bra set before slipping into my black sundress. I went into my shoe closet and found my black sling-back sandals, put on some simple earrings, a little makeup and my sunglasses. I then left the room and headed toward the kitchen. I had to make it to the mall to pick up a few items before I left on my trip.

  When I entered the kitchen I was stopped cold in my tracks. Vince was in there wearing only a large bath towel wrapped around his waist. He must have used the shower that was just to the left of the kitchen. His skin was still wet and I noticed a trail of wet footprints coming from the direction of the bathroom. He hadn’t noticed me because he was leaning over and searching the refrigerator for something to eat. I focused on his tight ass for a long moment. I allowed my eyes to fall down the back of his long muscular thighs.

  “Damn,” I whispered softly as the thought of drying his thighs off with my tongue ignited my flame. It took every ounce of strength I had to keep from rushing up to him, removing the towel and smacking his chocolate ass. I cleared my throat to get his attention.

  “Oh, shit,” he said as he stood up. He turned around to face me and I saw the most magnificent erection trying to break free of its cloth prison. “Sorry. I thought you were still upstairs.”

  I began randomly scratching my arm while I remained focused on his manhood. “I—um…” I had to clear my throat again because my thoughts and words were out of sync. “I’m on my way to the mall,” I finally said.

  “Which one?” he asked as he rested his behind against the nearby countertop. He knew that I was temporarily mesmorized.

  I paused, confused. “Make sure you mop up the trail of water over there.” I pointed to his wet footprints.

  “I got that. Don’t worry about it,” Vince said, and then began to touch himself. Normally that type of behavior would have irritated or offended me, but it didn’t. It was beautiful the way he massaged himself. I studied his movements and wanted to emulate them. I know it sounds crazy and immature, but I was completely fascinated by what he was doing.

  “You’re a freak, aren’t you?” Vince asked. I refused to answer him. “Sometimes I get so hard that I just have to touch myself. Especially after a good workout.”

  “Um—I guess it’s okay as long as you don’t do it in public.”

  “No, I’m not that bold,” he said then stopped. There was a long moment of silence between us and I saw desire in his eyes.

  “You look wonderful in your dress,” Vince complimented me. “I can smell the scent of your perfume from over here. I love that scent. Sometimes, when you leave your bedroom window open, I swear the aroma of your perfume rides on morning air and floats out to me while I’m shooting hoops. I’m going to be honest, Crystal, I think about you in ways I shouldn’t. I try to stop my mind from taking me to intimate places, but it’s impossible. I’ve undressed and made love to you a thousand times in my mind. I’ve placed soft kisses on your breasts. I’ve tasted your lips, kissed your neck and caressed your back. I’ve never felt this type of desire for anyone before. I can’t explain why I want you, I just know that I do.”

  I was speechless. I mean, it shocked me that his words came out so effortlessly. The uninhibited woman within wanted to do him right there on the countertop, but I remained composed.

  “Well.” I paused as I swallowed hard. “This is an awkward moment.”

  “Don’t you feel it? Don’t you feel the same vibe I do?” he asked.

  “That’s a dangerous question, Vince.”

  “So you do feel it?” he asked again as he approached me. “I want you, Crystal. I know I shouldn’t have feelings for you like this, but I can’t help it. There is something about you. There is something about your eyes, your smile and the way you talk to me without saying a word. I love watching the sexy way you swing your hips when you walk an
d the sexual energy you give off. I’m drawn to you the way a bee is drawn to a beautiful flower.”

  “Vince, I’m your stepmother. You can’t have feelings like this for me. I’m married to your father, remember?”

  “Why can’t I have feelings for you?”

  “It’s not right, Vince. Not to mention immoral and a little twisted.”

  “That’s true, it’s not right. It’s very wrong and very twisted. I’ll admit that. But answer one question for me. And don’t bullshit me with your answer. I want the truth. Have you ever fantasized about making love to me the way that I’ve fantasized about making love to you?”

  I couldn’t believe he asked me that question with a straight face. “Were you watching me?” I asked, but didn’t give him a chance to answer before I continued to speak. “This is a dangerous game you’re playing, Vince.”

  “Just answer the question, please.”

  I focused on a fruit basket sitting on the countertop. “No,” I lied to him. “I’ve never thought about you in that way.” I looked into his eyes again.

  “Then why does there seem to be some type of energy between us?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied again.

  “You mean you don’t feel it? That’s impossible. The sexual tension between us is thick enough to cut through.”

  “Sexual tension.” I chuckled. “It’s very flattering that you want to do me, but that’s just not going to happen.” I didn’t believe the words coming out of my own mouth, because in the back of my mind, I wanted to do him right there. I wanted to murder the erection he boldly stroked in my presence.

  “Why do I feel like you’re running away from the way you truly feel?”

  At that moment I noticed how erect his tiny nipples were and I wanted to bite on them. My eyes gave me away, but I tried to cover up my thoughts by clearing my throat. “You should make sure you’re dressed when you’re around me.” I said.

  “So, it’s like that. We’re not going to address this thing that we’re struggling with?”

  “I’m not struggling with anything and I’d appreciate it if you’d put on some clothes when you’re around me. You’re not a little boy, you’re a grown man, and you should act accordingly when you’re around me.”

  “Okay,” he said as he licked his lips. “It appears I’ve made a mistake. I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel uncomfortable.”

  “There is no harm done,” I said. Vince left and went into the basement to get a mop to clean up the trail of water he’d left on the floor.

  By the time I got situated inside the car my pussy was on fire. I turned the air conditioner on to cool myself down. As I began to accept the fact I was attracted to Vince, I became afraid. I wanted to stop thinking about him, but my mind wouldn’t stop projecting images of him fucking me from behind. Doggy style was my favorite position. The images continued to flash. I could see him gently sucking my clit and I could hear his voice inside of my head, whispering to me and repeating how much he ached for me.

  “Damn,” I said aloud. I wanted to feel him inside me. I wanted to ride him until he begged me to stop. I wanted to make him pay for getting inside of my head so quickly and effortlessly. After what had just gone down, I had to honestly ask myself if I was satisfied with Charles or was I only in love with financial stability?

  I don’t know why the crazy idea of inviting Vince to fly to Charlotte, North Carolina, entered my head but it did.

  “You know, that may be just what I need,” he said to me. “A little time to get away and think about what I want to do with my life. Perhaps I’ll be inspired to become an attorney like you.”

  “Honey, there are enough attorneys in the world already.”

  “So, when are we leaving?” he asked.

  “This weekend. I’ll take care of your airfare and hotel accommodations.”

  “What do you think the old man is going to say about this?”

  “If you don’t tell him, I’m certainly not going to mention it.” He smiled at me and I knew that this would be our secret little trip.

  Once Vince and I arrived in Charlotte, we gathered our luggage and headed over to the rental car desk. The service clerk handed me the keys to the Mustang I’d rented and we packed our luggage in the trunk of the car and headed over to the hotel. We checked in and headed up to our rooms. We had separate rooms, but a door connected them to each other. We opened the connecting doors so we’d have access to each other’s rooms.

  “So, what do we do now?” Vince asked.

  “I’m going to boot up my laptop and do a little work. You can do whatever you want. We’ll go out and get something to eat a little later.”

  “Okay, that’s cool. I think I’m going to go see what their gym looks like.”

  “The hotel has a swimming pool as well,” I said. “You could go for a swim.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a bad idea,” Vince declared.

  Three hours later I’d finished what I was working on and I was hungry. I walked into Vince’s room but he wasn’t there. I figured he was still in the workout room so I grabbed my door key and headed in that direction. Just as I thought, Vince was inside lifting weights.

  “Hey, you hungry yet?” I asked as I stepped inside.

  “I’m starving,” he replied.

  “Well go take a shower and change. Then meet me at the front desk.” While Vince was in his room freshening up, I was at the concierge’s desk getting driving directions to a restaurant and a good place to go dancing.

  Our meal at an Italian restaurant was wonderful. When we left, it was around ten-thirty in the evening. It was a warm and beautiful summer night and the streets of Charlotte were filled with people. I drove over to College Street and parked the car inside a parking garage. Once we exited the garage we merged with the crowds of partygoers heading to various nightclubs. The hotel concierge suggested we go to a nightclub called BAR Charlotte. When we entered the club the music was loud and the dance floor was overflowing with people dancing to a song called “Hips Don’t Lie” by a female artist named Shakira. We found a place to sit down and a few moments later a waitress came over to take our drink order.

  “I’ll have a strawberry margarita,” I told her.

  “I’ll have a beer,” said Vince. The waitress walked away then returned shortly thereafter with our drinks. I sipped on my margarita as I swayed to the groove of the music.

  “So, do you know this song?” Vince asked.

  “Of course I do,” I told him. “I may be a little older, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like the latest music.” The next thing I knew, Vince got up and stood in front of me. He spread my legs open while I was still sitting down on a bar stool and began rubbing his hands up and down my thighs. I quickly slapped his hand before he reached my paradise. Vince looked at me, surprised that I stopped him.

  “What’s wrong—you can dish it out but you can’t take it? You’ve been feeling my dick, why can’t I feel your pussy?” I didn’t say anything. I just stared at him for a long moment. I caught the attention of the waitress and had her bring me another drink.

  “Vince, you may be well hung, but I don’t think your dick knows how to handle a hot pussy like the one I have.” Vince took my comment as a challenge.

  “So you think that I can’t handle you?”

  I knew he was eager to prove me wrong. “You may be raring to go and have gusto, but I will turn your young ass out,” I stated as the waitress placed another drink before me. As soon as I finished my second drink, I was feeling adventurous and daring.

  “Come on, let’s dance,” I said, feeling the need to express myself on the dance floor. Vince took me by the hand and we went to the center of the dance floor. He started to dance but I stopped him. I motioned for him to lean forward so that I could speak in his ear.

  “Follow me,” I said, and led him to a darker spot on the dance floor that was toward a back wall. I pushed his back up against the wall, placed my ass on
his dick and began moving sensually to the rhythm of the Pussycat Dolls singing “Loosen Up My Buttons.”

  “Oh, shit,” he said as he put his hands on my hips. I kept pressing myself against him because I enjoyed the feel of his erection.

  “Caress my ass!” I shouted out loud over the music.

  “Damn, I didn’t know you could move like this.” Vince laughed. I shook my ass a little faster and a little harder and I felt Vince buckle at the knees. I laughed. I then turned to face him.

  “I told you that you couldn’t handle this pussy.” I knew I had him in the palm of my hand. Vince had a devilish look in his eyes.

  “So, let’s see how much of a freak you really are.” He took me by the hand. We walked over to the bar and Vince said something to the bartender. The next thing I knew, the bartender wiped down the bar and Vince hoisted me up onto the bar and asked me to lie flat on my back. At first I wasn’t going to do it, but I decided to go with the flow.

  “Relax, okay?” He rolled up my shirt to my bra line which left my chocolate skin and belly button exposed. The bartender poured alcohol inside my navel and my skin got goose bumps. Vince then slurped up the alcohol as it ran off the sides of my abdomen and down toward my paradise. It was an erotic sensation. I arched up my back and cradled the back of his head as he continued to slurp up the alcohol off of my skin.

  “You are driving me wild and I want you so damn bad!” I was half laughing and half talking.

  “So what are we going to do about that?” he asked. “Because you’re hot and you’re driving me wild. I’m going to bust if you keep on teasing me like this. I want you.”

  At that moment I sat upright. Vince locked his arms around me and we began kissing. The way he kissed me made my womanhood explode. His lips were soft and tasted sweet. I placed my cheek against his and spoke purposely in his ear.