by Karina Sharp
I head into the Exchange and make a beeline to the Bath and Body Works/Victoria’s Secret/smelly stuff section. I am drawn to good smelling things like a moth to a flame. They get me hook, line, and sinker, every time. Plus, when they’re on sale, who am I to turn my nose up at them? Literally? They’re just asking for me to take at least four new bottles home. Granted, this is not what I actually came here for, but I can’t seem to remember what I came here for because I catch a glimpse of lots of shiny baubles in the fine jewelry cabinets to my left.
I am the equivalent of the proverbial kid in a candy store when it comes to accessories, jewelry, and all things shiny. If it were socially acceptable to ooo and ahh as well as drool at shiny things, I totally would. I am primarily drawn to green stones and gems, particularly peridot. I spy a very large, light green stone set on a delicate gold band, and I could swear a single beacon of light is shining down on it from above, calling me to it. I have to try it on. I have tiny fingers, so I know it will be too big, but I don’t care; it’s calling to me.
As I predicted, the band is too big. It’s a size 6, which fits my index finger. Too big or not, it looks fantastic on my finger. At least, I think so. The sales clerk marvels at my fingers that she agrees are tiny and asks what size my ring finger is. I inform her my ring finger is a size 4. She doesn’t seem to believe me, so she measures it with the ring sizers. I purse my lips in an “I told you so” look as she looks back at me incredulously.
I walk away from the gems and sparkling jewelry, but continue to gawk at them as I move. Not looking in front of me, I slam into something solid, which I initially think is a wall, but it’s too warm and familiar to be a wall. I recognize what, or rather who, I’ve crashed into. Instinct makes me want to hug him and linger at his chest, but I remember my surroundings and quickly jump back, a little unsure of how to react.
“Whoa there. You ought to watch where you’re going, young lady,” McCrary’s oh so familiar voice rings out.
I look up and take in the bemusement in his face.
“Do I know you?” I ask in as questioning of a voice as I can make. “I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before. I volunteer at a retirement in home not far from here…”
McCrary’s eyes light up as if I’ve just challenged him.
“Hmmm... I haven’t visited any retirement homes lately.” He places his finger thoughtfully to his chin. “Do you subscribe to any magazines with models in them? You may have seen me in one of those.”
Two can play at this game.
“No... I can’t say that I do. In fact, I don’t subscribe to any real form of media, so that’s definitely not it.”
I look around me, trying to think of a witty comeback.
“Oh! Perhaps it’s the Taco Bell I visit on an almost daily basis. Do you work there?”
I wonder if anyone aside from the two of us can hear or even cares about our conversation.
McCrary fires back. “Taco Bell? Seeing as how I am an attorney, and I am not 16, no, I don’t work there. No offense to the lovely people who do.” I watch as his eyes move down my body. “Have I maybe seen you in a gentlemen’s club or something?”
I see what he’s getting at, so I decide to up the ante.
“No, I don’t work at one of those places, but I do dance professionally as a burlesque dancer.” I shift my weight to one foot so that I’m leaning toward him. “Most well-educated people can tell the difference between a trained burlesque dancer and a stripper. Not that strippers don’t have skills and talent, but it’s not even close to the same.”
Before he can retort, I continue. “That must be where I know you from. I meet so many people at my shows and have so many fans, it’s hard to remember each and every face I see, but it’s so sweet that you recognize me.”
I lean in more, lowering my voice to a purr. “In fact, I’m here shopping for cheap drugstore red lipstick to go with my royal blue thigh-high hooker boots I’m wearing in a private gig tonight.”
I flash him an innocent smile as I see him processing my words and trying to keep his arousal at bay.
“Anyway,” I say louder, “I better get going so I can finish getting my supplies for my next show. It’s always fun unexpectedly bumping into a fan. You enjoy the rest of your Sunday.”
I strut away feeling so proud of myself, until I realize I just told him I was going to wear blue hooker boots for him when we get back. I don’t fret over it for long, though. I did actually pack them with the intention of wearing them, but I didn’t intend to tell him about it ahead of time. I shrug and wander over to the lipstick with a little more bounce in my step.
We have a fun time shopping and pretending not to know one another. I dart around the corners of aisles and sneak eye contact with him, and he mouths things to me when no one is paying attention.
After our shopping, we return to his house, and I do my best impression of my grandmother’s cooking. I introduce McCrary to fideo and homemade tortillas. We eat and clean up the mess we made cooking, then I take a shower alone. When I get out, I adorn myself in my usual smoky eye makeup and deep red lipstick I wear for shows, as well as a black bra, waist cincher, and lacy panties. Having the wardrobe of a burlesque dancer does have its perks. I pull what I lovingly refer to as my blue hooker boots over my knees to my thighs and look myself over in the mirror before I head back out into the living room.
I expect to find McCrary doing what he’s normally doing any time I leave the room, which is reading legal journals, studying case law, or looking off into space as he taps his pen on his yellow legal pad. The sound from my heels echos down the hallway, and I hear the tapping of his pen stop as I come into view. McCrary’s lips part some, and he looks at me in awe.
“Wow. You look so hot. Stunning. I thought you were just teasing me earlier, but boy am I glad I was wrong. You look...amazing.”
I flash him a devious smile. “Like I always say, I don’t start what I can’t finish.”
I amaze myself with my boldness sometimes, but with McCrary, it feels less brazen because it seems so natural. I’ve found the only person I truly desire to dance for and wear sexy clothes in front of. Before him, I danced on stage as an outlet to keep a part of myself alive and retain some semblance of control over my sexuality. Now that I’m coming back into my own on a regular basis, I see that I don’t need or want anyone but him.
I pour more sensuality into my private dance than I’ve put into all of my other performances combined. Oddly enough, standing here in my sluttiest clothes, giving the performance of a lifetime, I come to the realization that I love this man sitting in front of me. Maybe it’s not so much that I suddenly realize it now as opposed to allowing myself to admit it, but regardless, I am certain I am in love with McCrary. He is my one. My only.
I am prepared to show him how much he means to me, and show him is exactly what I do.
Chapter 19
McCrary
Another Sunday later, and each one seems to get better than the last. Arielle is currently moving toward me and will soon be back in my arms. I don’t know that I so much gave her my heart as she took it without much choice from me, but she has long been in possession of it. I couldn’t have asked for a better place for it to be, however. I do worry that with everything she is dealing with emotionally, and will continue to work through, that she might try to run away scared, again. I wonder if she does not share the same strong feelings as I do, and if she does, that they are not misguided. I am basically a rebound, and the feelings she seems to have for me could just be fleeting. I cool those concerns for now because in this moment, I just want her.
Arielle enters the master bathroom wearing some casual jean shorts and a low-cut top as water continues to fill the bath tub. It’s not a huge tub, but it’s a soaking tub, so there’s plenty of room for her to sit between my legs with her back against my chest. The only issue will be my ability, or lack thereof, to keep my excitement at bay.
As much as I want to rip her clothes
off, bend her over the bathroom vanity, and fuck her hard, I also want to savor her and take in everything she is. The slow and savory approach wins the mental coin toss tonight.
Arielle approaches me and lifts her head up toward me. She is very petite, especially compared to my frame. I stand above her, and as we kiss, I cannot wait any longer. I need to be able to see everything she’s feeling.
“I want you to look into my eyes as I undress you.”
She nods slowly and takes in another deep breath. I place the hem of her shirt between my fingers and take my time lifting it over her head. I then carefully unhook her bra, slide it down her arms, and toss it aside. Its removal exposes her perfect breasts and nipples, which happen to be pierced. The first time I saw them, so many questions came into my mind as I had never seen pierced nipples in person before, but the questions were quickly replaced with more deviant thoughts. When I think about them now, I think of all of the things I can do to those rings with my mouth. I feel my blood rush, my skin tingle, and my boxers grow tighter in response to her.
She keeps her gaze locked on my eyes, as I requested.
“So beautiful,” I say in earnest.
She responds shyly, and I am reminded that she is not used to taking compliments.
“You’re still not used to hearing that, are you?”
She delicately nods her head in confirmation.
“I aim to change that because you deserve to know how gorgeous you are and what you do to me.”
Keeping my eyes staring into hers, I dig my thumbs into the waistband of her jean shorts and ease them over the curve of her hips, down her thighs, and let them fall to the floor. At that moment, I know that she is completely naked, and I want to look her over, but I continue to hold her gaze.
I smile at her gently. “No panties?”
Humor enters her eyes, and she says, “I don’t like them, so I don’t really wear them if I don’t have to. I only wear them if I’m wearing a dress or skirt.”
Her confession to me turns me on even more.
“I like it. So many secrets and surprises under your clothes that very few people know.”
“Our little secret,” she smiles.
Sharing secrets with her makes her even more alluring to me.
Anticipating my next move, she says, “Hold that thought.”
Arielle turns away from me, giving me full view of her smooth, rounded ass, and I see her tattoo at the very base of her spine, far below where the waist of her pants hit and just where her ass forms. I never tire of seeing it exposed. She walks over to the faucet and turns off the running water. Stepping into the tub of water, she grabs a washcloth hanging on the rack beside it, dips it in the water, and squeezes it above her breasts, making them wet and dripping with water.
“Perfect,” is all I can manage to say.
She giggles and looks thoroughly amused.
“I once did a number in a show where water was poured all over my body, and I’ve always wanted to replicate it.”
I wish I could have seen that number, but I am thankful for the front row seat I have for my own private show. I step over to the tub so I can feel the water rolling down her chest, but she stops me.
“Uh uh uh…” she warns, shaking her head. “One of these things is not like the other.”
Arielle gestures, moving her hands up and down, telling me that she’s referring to my clothes.
She has transformed from a shy woman who blushes at compliments, to a vixen commanding me, before my very eyes.
“You’re positively wicked.”
“That’s my middle name.” Arielle smiles and squeezes more water over her body. “Hyphenated, of course.”
Everything she says and does, along with everything she reveals to me little by little, drives me wild. I remove my clothes as quickly as possible while trying to maintain my composure. I see the flash of mischief in her eyes as she takes in my fully erect penis. Arielle’s eyes travel slowly across my torso and up to my face. She lowers her chin and beckons me with her eyes.
“Come lick this water off of me.”
*****
Arielle
McCrary takes his time and carefully laps up every bead of water that makes contact with my skin. He takes great care in stroking his tongue with a perfect amount of pressure that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. In contrast, it makes my knees very weak. McCrary cups my breasts with his hands and begins to massage them gently, gradually adding pressure. He flicks my nipple rings back and forth with a look of fascination and appreciation in his eyes. I place my hands on his head and begin twisting my fingers through his short, yet thick hair. In response, he moves his mouth to flick my rings with his tongue, careful to give each one the same amount of attention. I throw my head back in pleasure and can feel the moisture building between my legs. McCrary keeps telling me how gorgeous and beautiful and perfect I am. He also tells me how he would never stop wanting to see me, touch me, and take every bit of me in.
My breathing grows louder and more desperate as he kisses down my stomach and to the inside of each thigh. I spread my legs apart to give him ample access, and it is obvious I am more than ready to feel his mouth on me. With both hands on my hips, he pulls them to his face. I feel his tongue on me first, which makes my toes curl under. I throw my head back even further and begin to moan as he circles his tongue in all the right places.
“You taste wonderful,” he says as he continues to pleasure me with his mouth.
I watch as he places his index finger in his mouth and then let out a sensual sigh as I feel it enter me- filling me. With slow strokes, I feel the tension between my legs build and feel it deep in my gut. I crave more. He instinctually moves another finger inside of me, and I feel almost full.
His strokes are almost agonizingly slow.
“Do you like this?” he asks in a whisper.
“Yes,” I exhale. “But I want more.”
He smiles up at me and says, “Tell me what you want, Arielle.”
The sound of my name on his husky breath makes me more desperate.
“Faster,” I answer. “I want you to move your fingers faster.”
On cue, he obliges and begins to move his fingers in and out in an increasingly rapid succession. My hips begin to rock and I moan.
“Is this how you like it?”
“Yes,” I moan aloud.
His fingers move quickly and adeptly as the tension builds up to a point where I’m not sure I’ll be able to handle it any longer.
“Let me hear you, baby. Come for me, Arielle.”
I can’t hold on any longer. I grab his hair tightly in my fingers as pure ecstasy washes over my body like a tidal wave, and I moan loudly, calling out his name.
As I come down from my euphoria and take in the residual tingling within my body, McCrary stands up and plunges his tongue into my mouth. I can taste myself on his lips and mouth, and it makes our kiss even more pleasurable.
He pulls his lips away and says, “You’re wonderful and even better than I ever dreamed.”
As he kisses me, his hard length presses against me. I want to taste him as well. As our mouths ravish each other’s, I reach my hand down and wrap my fingers around his girth, but they barely fit around it.
McCrary takes in a shaky breath and says, “I don’t know if I can handle your hands on me.”
Knowing what he means, but choosing to take it a step further, I say, “Alright then... I’ll just use my mouth.”
His breath hitches, then he breathes out deeply. I lower down to my knees and look up at him with a coy smile.
“By now, you should know I don’t start what I can’t finish.”
I begin gently running my tongue along the underside of his length, taking advantage of the very sensitive spot. I lick my lips and place them midway on his shaft, causing him to let out a moan. His hands move to the top of my head as he breathes out my name. After light strokes with my mouth and tongue, taking cues from his body, I k
now it’s time for me to move all the way down his shaft, taking all of him into my mouth. McCrary moans louder, and I use my mouth to make long, hard strokes. I feel his legs shake and tense.
“Arielle… Fuck, Arielle. You are wonderful,” he lets out in moans as he too reaches the throes of ecstasy.
I stand and smile at him, satisfied with myself as well. I gently kiss his nose and say, “How about that bath?”
After our steamy, yet relaxing bath, McCrary leaves me to dry off and take care of other personal business. As I wash my face, the events that have transpired this weekend replay in my mind. Never before have I been so brave and vulnerable with someone, yet it felt is feels so normal.
I join a very naked, and very sexy, McCrary in his bed, and we resume our activities. After we are both completely sated, we lie there in the dark and quiet stillness of night, with only some moonlight and glow from street lamps coming through the curtains. We are both on our backs, I on McCrary’s left side with his left arm under my neck.
Staring at the ceiling, I wonder aloud, “Isn’t it amazing how one day you think that your life is set and you’re heading down a particular track, then, in an instant, it is derailed and changed completely?”
I take McCrary’s fingers and intertwine them with mine.
I hear him say through his chest, “It is very surreal, that’s for sure.”
His answer is a little vague to me. Wanting clarification, I ask, “What is?”
He pauses before he answers.
“Life. This. Those times when your life just completely throws you for a loop, and you’re on a new course. The times that you feel like you have to pinch yourself to make sure you’re not dreaming. Or other times where you hope with all your heart that when you wake up the next day, everything will reset and go back to where it was. Or even the ones that we have no control over, but control our lives immensely.”
I move the pads of my fingers along the top of his wrist. His thoughts are heavier than mine.
