I sat at the desk and worked steadily for a while. When I heard cars in the drive, I stretched and went to the shared washroom down the hall to freshen up before joining the others.
*
By late Saturday afternoon it was still the status quo. My time hadn’t been my own since the day before. Antonia had also been busy with her duties, and I hadn’t really seen her except when she introduced speakers and facilitators—and this morning at breakfast.
We sat at the same table, across from each other. I noticed that a few ends of her short hair stuck out from her head, and her eyes were still heavy-lidded from sleep. The intimacy of that sent an unexpected shock of lust to my groin so strong that I started. I managed to cover it up by reaching for something on the table and making small talk with my neighbor. When I dared look at her again, she was looking at my hands. Slowly her gaze moved up to mine. Oh God. This time there was no mistaking the longing I saw in her eyes. I walked around in an erotic haze for most of the morning.
Now it was late afternoon. The rest of the time was mine as I had no more official responsibilities and could simply enjoy the beautiful surroundings and the company of the other participants. And think about how to get Antonia alone and in my arms.
I strolled across the front lawn and down to a small wooded area by the shore. A tree with low branches provided shade in the hot sun, and I stood with my back against it, looking out at the sparkling water. The sun was still high. Nothing moved in the still air. I could hear only faint voices behind me in the distance and the murmur of the lake swells moving slowly to and fro over the pebble beach.
I decided that I would ask Antonia to go for a walk before the string quartet performance to be held out on the lawn that evening. My stomach tightened as I imagined pulling her against me within the protection of the trees. I closed my eyes and suppressed a moan. When I opened them I almost collapsed. She was standing in front of me, the bright sun behind her casting her in shadow. She had followed me. I moved so that I could see her face, and we stared at each other, lips parted but speechless.
“Antonia? What is it?” I finally managed.
For the second time that day I saw hunger in those clear eyes, and I was mesmerized. I would have stood there forever if she hadn’t said something.
“I want to come to your room tonight,” she said in a husky voice. “After the concert. May I?”
I tried to hide my shock. In all the seduction scenarios I had created in my mind, I had never pictured her as being the one to initiate our first erotic encounter.
“Yes. Yes, I’d like that.” I almost gasped the words. My heart thudded so hard I hardly knew what I was saying.
She nodded and smiled as if she had come to a decision and had expected my yes. By unspoken agreement we both turned to walk back up to the house. My legs were weak. When she brushed against me on the narrow path I could feel her whole body trembling, and I knew that she wasn’t nearly as cool and collected as she’d seemed down by the water.
I pulled myself together and reentered the villa. As I walked through the spacious lobby, I winked at the saint.
*
During the recital I sat cross-legged on a blanket at the edge of the audience. Antonia sat on the other side on a low camp chair. It was hard to keep from looking at her, and when I did, her gaze would be fastened on me. Her eyes appeared hooded at that distance and I couldn’t read them. But I could imagine. By the time I was back in my room I was wet from arousal.
I stood looking out at the gathering dusk. The concert was over but still the poignant echoes of violin and cello playing Barber’s Adagio for Strings seemed to drift up from the lawn to my open window. To the east a full moon shone on silvered water. To the west the sky was still tinted rose.
I was getting impatient. I wanted her right now and wondered how much longer I would have to wait. As organizer, she would have to stay downstairs to say good-bye to the musicians, who had driven from the city only for the evening.
It was dark now and just as I switched on the lamp near the bed, there was a soft knock. My insides turned to liquid. I opened the door, and she was standing there in a thin, white cotton bathrobe with a delicate blue pattern, like a Japanese kimono with wide sleeves and belt tied high on her waist. Her hair was damp and she smelled faintly of soap.
I moved aside and she came in and stood against the closed door. We just looked at each other, neither of us saying a word.
“I just got out of the shower,” she said finally, smiling tentatively.
“I can see that,” I said softly. I placed my fingertips on the triangle of skin at her collarbone and drew the robe apart very slowly, exposing her cleavage and the swell of her breasts. I could see her throat move as she swallowed. I opened the gown a little further, baring her shoulders and the areolae of her nipples. They were dark pink. I knew her nipples would be redder. Their hard points were pressed against the flimsy cloth. I could hardly breathe. Antonia’s breathing was erratic.
I caressed her bare shoulders and kissed her throat, then moved up. Our mouths came together and I opened her lips with my tongue, sliding it along and around hers. She moaned into my mouth. I moved my lips down to her throat again, leaving a moist trail, and kissed the rapid pulse. I wanted to bite her there and suck her.
She groaned, and with her hands on my buttocks, pulled me against her. I was beginning to lose control and started to shove my thigh between hers, then suddenly stopped. What was I doing? This was probably her first time, and I had been about to take her up against a wall—me fully dressed, her almost naked.
I held her close. “I’m sorry,” I said hoarsely. “I’m going too fast.”
“I’m not going to say ‘Please be gentle,’ if that’s what you think,” she said into my shoulder, breathing hard. She pulled away and looked at me, her eyes dark with passion. “I want you to teach me, show me—things.”
I searched her face. Those words and that look in her eyes caused a fresh rush to my groin. I was so wet for her. I pulled the zipper of my chinos down and guided her hand inside.
“Touch me, Antonia,” I whispered. “Please.”
Without any hesitation she stroked down my belly into my briefs, and farther down between my legs. Long fingers slid through my swollen folds.
“Oh, yes, I’ve wanted this for so long,” she breathed.
I stopped her hand and pulled it away because I was so close to coming, and it was too soon. “See how wet I am for you? Are you as wet as that?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice shaking. “Touch me and see.”
I undid the cloth belt and it fell to the floor. She spread the robe open herself, displaying small, white cotton panties. She looked so vulnerable and so sexy at the same time. I moved my hand slowly down her stomach, caressing the warm smooth skin, then cupped her outside the panties. They were damp. We both moaned as my fingers moved to the heat between her thighs and found their way into her briefs at the crotch. She was drenched and so very slippery. She cried out and arched against me as my fingers slid along the base of her clitoris to her entry. I pushed gently but it was closed.
“Has anyone ever touched you before?”
“No, just me.” Her laugh was almost a sob. I knew she was close to the edge, too, so I withdrew my hand. I wanted her in bed. I wanted her to climax there, to see it in her face.
“Don’t leave,” she begged. “Don’t stop.”
“I won’t.” I drew her to the bed. “I want you here, under me.”
“For now, anyway.” She gave me a knowing smile and sat down. “Are you ever going to take off your clothes?”
I stripped as Antonia watched me. I had expected her to be shy, uncertain, but she wasn’t. When I was naked, she stood up and reached for me, and explored my body— breasts, buttocks, the small of my back. Her searching hand slid between my thighs, and I closed my eyes, pushing back the orgasm.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” she said, and her voice caught as she stroked my abdomen w
ith wet fingers.
Slowly I removed her robe. As I held her breasts in my palms, my thumbs skimmed her nipples, rigid and golden red and so beautiful in the lamplight. I got down on my knees and tugged her briefs down to the floor, kissing the soft black triangle. She was trembling wildly, and I held her tightly around her thighs to keep her from falling as I pushed my face into her and licked her. I craved the taste and scent of her arousal and thought I could die for them. She pulled my head harder against her and thrust her hips forward.
I pushed Antonia onto the bed and as she lay back, I knelt between her legs, spreading them with my knees. We looked into each other’s eyes as my hand parted her dripping folds, then my own. As I ground my pelvis into her, our swollen flesh slid together. The sensation was excruciating. She gasped, hands clutching my shoulders.
“Oh, God, Robin, I never imagined…”
I wanted to bring her to the edge without going over so that she would be so aroused when I penetrated her that the pain would be indistinguishable from the pleasure. When I knew we were both on the verge I moved up her body, clenching my jaw to keep from climaxing.
“No, come back,” she protested, writhing against me.
“Wait. I need to be inside you.” I slid my fingers through her slickness, pressing against the tight opening. I drove my leg between hers, riding her thigh. We were both frantic. Then one stroke with my thumb against her engorged clitoris, and the orgasm tore through her at the same time as my fingers thrust into her through the barrier. Her body went rigid as she convulsed with a strangled shout. When I saw the rapture in her face I came instantly, jerking against her. We were shattered, and the aftershocks went on and on.
*
We had fallen asleep on our sides with my head pressed forward into the nape of her neck and my arm wrapped around her hip with my hand tucked between her legs. When I woke up we were still in exactly the same position. I had managed to turn out the lamp just before passing out and awakened to a study in black and white. The moon shone directly through the tall, open window. It was almost as bright as day in the room but without the colors.
Slowly and gently I pulled my hand out from its warm hiding place. It was still sticky. I examined it closely in the moonlight. I couldn’t see any blood. I smelled it and licked it, and my stomach swirled with remembered desire. Very carefully, so as not to wake her, I raised myself up and leaned across her, barely touching her, and examined the white sheet we were lying on.
“See any blood?” Antonia murmured sleepily as she stirred and rolled onto her back. Startled, I laughed.
“No,” I said, pulling back. I lay on my side, leaning on my elbow. “Your lips are black in the moonlight, just like your hair.”
“So are your freckles—and your nipples. Amazing.”
She smiled and tugged me toward her and kissed me, her warm smooth tongue sliding slowly between my lips. Our breathing picked up. I felt the familiar rush low in my guts.
I groaned. “I’ll be wrecked tomorrow. I still have to go over my sermon for the eleven o’clock service, and then officiate at a wedding in the afternoon. I’ll have to leave here right after breakfast.”
“Have you got your collar with you? I like seeing you in it.” She raised her eyebrows suggestively.
“I hardly ever wear my clerical collar.” I sucked the soft hollow between her neck and shoulder. “But I have one with me. I’ll put it on before I leave, just for you.” I paused and looked at her. “What are you going to do?”
She looked away. “What do you mean? Tomorrow?”
“No. You know what I mean,” I said, caressing her cheek.
“Yes. I don’t know yet.” Her eyes met mine again, as clear as ever. “But tonight I just want you to show me more.” Her hand slid down my side and over my buttocks. “It’s not that late,” she whispered into my ear. “The moon is still high, and I’m so wet again. What about 69?”
“Oh God.” I took a shaky breath and whimpered a little, then rolled over on my back. “First, how about this. Kneel above me, here.” I patted my stomach. She straddled me in the moonlight, pushing down on me lightly with her sex. I clasped her hips. “Now move up to my face…”
The Case of the Stolen Shorts
Therese Szymanski
Author’s Note: This story depicts the absolute truth, except when it does not. The reader is advised to continue at the risk of her own suspension of disbelief and imagination.
“Well, this doesn’t seem to be getting any hotter…” I said to Karin as we sat in the hotel sauna.
“We’ve worked the temp control and the door guards—maybe there’s a basic on/off switch we’re missing?”
Brains, beauty, sense of humor… She was married, though. I so needed to get away from her. She was off limits to the nth degree. “Hey, do you want something to drink?” I held up my now-empty beer bottle. “I’m just gonna run on down and get a refill.”
“Oh, okay,” she said, looking as if she couldn’t believe I was fleeing.
“I’ll be back in just two shakes,” I explained.
“Yes, please, another rum and Coke would be great.”
I thought about hopping back out to the pool area to collect my shorts. I was only wearing my dark blue Fruit of the Loom boxers and a Vail T-shirt with a sports bra underneath and it was too nice a hotel to wander into the bar quite so undressed. However, the hot tub out by the pool was full of many lovelies and, knowing me, I’d sober up before I finished flirting. Instead, I grabbed a nearby towel to wrap around the boxers and headed down on the elevator.
I wasn’t sure if the hotel bar was still open, but the mini-bar in my room might suffice if it wasn’t.
I wrapped the towel around my waist and brushed my fingers through my hair, standing it slightly on end into what a friend had dubbed “baby bird” hair. It was now my trademark. Just as I finished properly mussing the ’do, the elevator dinged and stopped at a floor, which elevators are wont to do. An attractive brunette strode in. She wore red come-fuck-me heels, a red halter, under which she obviously wore no bra, and a black miniskirt shorter than the black dress worn by one hot author who was at the awards ceremony earlier in the night.
Damn, I was like a dog—or cat—in heat. This woman had obvious itches and I wanted to scratch them all for her.
The little lovely smirked at me, obviously noticing my attention. “See something you like?” she drawled in a faint Southern accent. Leaning back against the wall, she crossed her long legs in front of her, showing them to their best advantage as she assessed me.
I was emboldened by the many beers I’d had, so I suavely replied, “Uh…Yeah.” She laughed at me. I reckoned that wasn’t a bad thing, since laughter showed she was comfortable.
“Interesting outfit you’ve got going on there,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Should I even ask what you’ve got on—if anything—under that towel?”
“My boxer shorts. I was just up at the sauna and was heading for the bar.”
“Barefoot in your boxers.”
“Ayup.”
“Listen, is it just my imagination, or are there a lot of…you…here this weekend?”
“I think I’m the only me here this weekend. Least, last time I checked nobody had cloned me. And actually everyone who knows me thinks one of me is way more than enough.”
She glared at me in a truly adorable way. “You know what I mean.”
There was something about her clear blue gaze that was familiar, and I needed to keep her talking to figure out why. I had to keep her interested and occupied.
The elevator dinged as it hit the ground floor. I held my towel on with one hand and with the other gallantly indicated that she depart first.
“I’ll tell you about it if you’ll tell me where you’re from,” I said.
“I live in Chicago.”
“Originally. That’s not a Chicago accent.”
“But it is the answer to your question.”
“Fine. It’s a conventio
n.”
“You have conventions?” she said, putting her hand on my forearm to stop me from walking away. Her eyes were huge with disbelief.
Her perfume swirling around my head was intoxicating. Maybe more so since I really was intoxicated. “Where are you from—originally?” There was no particular reason I wanted to know, I just wanted to be able to identify that absolutely yummy accent. And I still had to figure out where I knew her from.
“Virginia.”
“I come from Dee-troit originally myself, but I live in D.C. these days.” I shrugged and leaned close to her. “I’m here for a lesbian literary convention.”
“It’s a lesbian literary convention?” She looked me up and down, a teasing smile dancing on her lips and a playful glint in her eyes. “What? Are you some sort of a writer?”
“Uh, yeah.” I recognized that glint—that teasing smile—that single arched brow. She’d had her eye on me earlier tonight.
“Really? What do you write?”
She was interested. I just had to reel her in. “Sleazy lesbian mysteries.”
“Really? Get out!”
“So you want me to leave?” I turned to go, knowing she wouldn’t let me.
She didn’t. She again put her hand on my arm. “No, I mean… Stay.”
“Well, you know, you’d better watch out. I’m actually rather well known for being a bad girl.”
“And just how bad are we talking about here?” she asked, running a fingertip lightly up and down my arm.
I grabbed her hand and pulled her into my arms. “I remember you, you know. You were in the bar earlier,” I whispered into her ear, burying my face in her silky hair. I’d been well aware of the gathering of straight girls eyeing the dykes and blushing.
She gasped and made a token protest, trying to push away from me. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”
“Yes, you do. You knew earlier, in the bar. And you knew when you saw me in the ’vator just now. It’s why you started talking to me, in fact.” I wrapped an arm around her waist, pushed her up against a wall, and shoved my thigh hard between her legs, against her heat.
Lessons in Love Page 18
