by Eden Proctor
So why then was she so nervous, so anxious?
She told herself it was because this was a new experience, but that wasn’t entirely true.
Eric knew her better than most, and he had seen her. There were no surprises here, but she couldn’t stop the worry and wonder about what he would think. And when she’d thought of changing her mind, she’d also thought of how Eric would respond. Maybe he’d take a look at her and change his mind.
She would die right on sight if that happened, so instead of thinking that, she forced herself to push the doorbell and then waited.
As she stood there, she couldn’t help but notice her pounding heart, her slick palms, how her stomach fluttered with nerves.
The door swung open, and she looked up, met Eric’s eyes, but for once she couldn’t quite read what was happening behind them.
“Come on in, Lexi,” he said.
He stepped aside and she brushed past him, almost jumping back when they touched.
Stupid.
Because they were going to be doing a whole lot more touching, but Lexi felt even more nervous over a touch they’d exchanged a thousand times before.
“You know the way,” he said after he closed the door.
“I do not!” she said, whirling to face him.
He smirked at her. “To the kitchen, Lexi,” he said.
“The kitchen? Oh,” she replied.
She slammed her jaw shut and then marched into the kitchen, extremely aware of Eric behind her.
What had she been thinking? That he would march her directly to the bed?
That was exactly what she had been thinking.
She wiped her palms against her jeans and then swallowed.
She could handle this. She’d just go with the flow. But what had she been thinking? She was wearing jeans, a T-shirt. God she hadn’t even bought special underwear to mark the occasion.
It had been intentional, her way of telling herself that this was nothing but a regular day. Now she questioned that decision.
“I didn’t buy anything nice,” she blurted out.
“Nice for what?” Eric asked as he walked past her and to the fridge.
“For, you know,” she said, watching him as he retrieved a water for her and beer for himself.
“You look fine,” he said, taking her in.
He kept his eyes on her and went from her dirty sneakers to her well-worn jeans, to the T-shirt with her favorite animated character on it.
“What are you looking at?” she asked.
“You, Lexi,” he said.
He took a swallow of his beer, and then he turned.
“Give me one of those,” she called when she managed to swallow past the lump that had suddenly developed in her throat.
“No. No beer,” he said.
“I can get it myself,” she said, walking toward the refrigerator.
“If you do, you do it somewhere else,” he said.
She turned to glare at him, saw that stern expression on his face.
“Fine,” she said, plopping down in one of the chairs at the kitchen table.
He had gone all rigid on her, and when he was like this, she knew she couldn’t reason with him. So instead, she resisted the urge to again wipe her hands down her jeans and stared at those stupid sneakers.
“I grilled,” he said.
“Really?” Lexi asked, looking up.
“Yeah. Veggie kebabs,” he said.
“Awesome,” she said, suddenly enthusiastic.
She walked toward him where he stood still but then paused, narrowed her eyes at him.
“Wait. What is this?”
“Dinner?” he said.
She frowned now. “Seriously, Eric. What is this?”
He smirked a moment longer but then dropped his expression and said, “You’re jumpy. You need to calm down. And we’re friends after all. We’ve had a thousand dinners together,” he said.
“I’m not jumpy,” she said.
“Then why do you keep wiping your hands on your jeans?” he said.
“I am not—”
She realized then that her palms were brushing against her jeans and looked up at Eric, who smirked again.
“Okay, so I’m a little jumpy.”
“I know. That’s why you want beer?” he said.
“Yeah. Figured it would help,” she said.
“You don’t need it. It’s just me, Lexi. Just me and you, so calm down and have some food,” he said.
He pushed a plate toward her and on instinct she grabbed it, turned, and went back to the dinner table.
This was exactly why she had asked Eric for this. He’d always been so calm, so reliable, always saw when Lexi was about to let the moment get the better of her. And kept her from letting it.
She’d have to thank him.
She turned, but when she saw the smirk on his face, she instead stuck her tongue out.
“That’s better. Tell me about the wedding last weekend,” he said as he came to join her at the table.
Chapter 6
After dinner, they had gone to Eric’s den, the one where he cringed when she called it the man cave. But there was no better description for the room.
A huge projection screen television, sectional couch, the vintage pinball machine that she had harassed him into buying two years ago. This was the room where everyone congregated and hung out, and one that Lexi had spent a ton of time in. So by the time they reached it, and after she had told him the story of the octogenarian wedding she had photographed the previous weekend, she was starting to feel relaxed.
In fact, she’d almost forgotten the reason she had come in the first place.
“So,” she said, trailing off and then looking at Eric about two hours after she arrived.
“So take your clothes off,” he said.
Lexi sputtered and began to cough when she understood his words.
“What?”
“Doesn’t always have to happen, but it’s usually good,” he said.
He was looking at her like they were discussing the weather, or one of her weddings, or any other of one million things that didn’t involve her disrobing in Eric’s man cave.
“What the hell are you doing?” she asked, glaring at him.
“You came to me for help with a problem, or what you think of as a problem. You want my help. I’m helping,” he said.
“By trying to make me choke to death?”
“No, by trying to help you get comfortable. You were doing so well just being your usual self, and a moment later you’re self-conscious and tight.
“That’s your fault. You just threw a hell of a curveball,” she said.
“You know why you came here. Two hours ago you were expecting it. So now you’re surprised?” he said.
“No. Yes. Well…” she said rapid-fire before she trailed off. “I just had an expectation,” she said.
“And that’s the real problem. You just won’t let things flow naturally.”
“And this is natural?” she asked.
“Not entirely,” he said, shrugging. “But if I were someone else, and you got to this point, what would you do?”
“Umm…I would—”
“You would shut down. Tell a joke. Pick a fight,” he said, looking at her heavily.
“So what?” she said, smiling grudgingly.
“So you need to break the habit,” he said.
“And how are we doing that exactly?” she asked.
“You’re going to take off your clothes.”
He said that like it was the most straightforward thing in the world, but Lexi was ready to jump out of her skin.
“And what are you gonna do?” she asked.
He lifted one corner of his mouth, leaned back against the sofa. “Watch.”
The longer Lexi stood there, Eric unnervingly silent, her mind racing, the less likely it seemed this would happen, the more impossible.
“Forget this, Eric. I’m not gonna let you toy with me,”
she said.
She glared at Eric, but he looked completely unconcerned.
“Your choice, but don’t think I don’t know that you’re doing it again, Lexi. Remember, this was your idea. You can make it about me, but it’s about you. And how scared you are.”
“I’m not scared,” she said.
His expression didn’t change but he watched her knowingly, and Lexi suddenly felt a surge of anger, one that only barely managed to cover the exposure she felt under his gaze.
She reached for the hem of her shirt and quickly pulled it over her head and tossed it aside, eyes on his.
“I’m not afraid of anything, Eric,” she said, as she stood and angrily kicked off her sneakers and then quickly shed her jeans.
Then she stood, watching him, chest heaving with her heavy, angry breaths before she began to realize what she had just done.
She glared at him. “If you fucking smirk…”
He didn’t, but she could see how badly he wanted to, and she could also see that she had been played.
“Asshole,” she said.
“I’m just trying to help you like you asked,” he said.
“You gonna keep reminding me of that?” she snapped.
“You gonna keep forgetting you asked?” he replied.
“Fine, Eric,” she said, heaving another sigh. “I asked. And now I’m here, undressed. Embarrassed as hell. So now what? Are we going to do it?”
He laughed, the sound full-bodied and as amused as he ever really got.
“Nope. And you’re not undressed,” he said.
“What are you talking about? My clothes are…”
She trailed off and locked eyes with him. “You don’t mean…”
He nodded slowly. “Yes. I do,” he said.
Then he leaned back even farther and put either of his arms on a corner of the couch. He had unfurled his big body, lazing like a jungle cat waiting to strike. And he was entirely focused on her.
And just that quickly the air in the room changed. It was still Eric, and she was still her, but he’d never looked at her quite like that.
No one had.
As she watched him, she tried to figure out what that expression was, but she couldn’t. It was intense, and maybe there was desire in it? She probably imagined that last part but imagination or not, her body began to react to standing in front of Eric like this.
Her stomach fluttered, her blood surging through her in a warm rush. Her nipples pebbled under his gaze. He saw it; there was no way he couldn’t through the sheer lace of her bra but he didn’t react.
Oddly that spurred her on, made her want to see some reaction from him. She quickly unhooked her bra, but she slowed when she began to slide it off her arms. For some reason she didn’t want to rush this, felt energized at Eric watching her.
He still hadn’t reacted, but when she finally got the bra off her body and dropped it at her feet, she saw his dark eyes flash, and this time, she didn’t miss the desire there.
It was hard to believe that Eric would want her. She was just silly Lexi, not pretty or witty or slim and beautiful. But she was here and Eric was looking at her, and that alone drove her to continue.
She reached for the waistband of her plain cotton panties and pulled them down her legs. For once, she didn’t spare a thought to her flabby thighs or her too large stomach. Instead, she focused on Eric’s eyes, the way they locked on her pussy and then moved down her legs as she lowered her panties.
She’d bent at the waist but when her panties were down, she stood up straight, her breasts swaying with the motion and then watched Eric.
Part of her wanted to run. A tiny part of her brain screamed at her to grab her clothes and leave, told her that any moment now he would laugh, tell her he’d made a mistake and send her on her way.
But that part was small, far smaller than the part of her that told her to stay, that said the risk was worth the feelings she felt now, the way she would feel when he touched her.
Time passed as she stood there, minutes, seconds, hours, she didn’t know. She didn’t care either. Nothing mattered as she stood feet from Eric, watching him watch her.
“Play with your tits,” he said.
His voice was his own, but a little lower, a little rougher. No one had ever said anything like that to her, and at his words, her pussy dampened but her arms didn’t move.
“Touch yourself,” he said.
She started to move her hands on instinct, but then stopped, dropped them at her sides.
She looked away, focused intently on a spot on the impeccable hardwood floors.
“Look at me, Lexi,” Eric said.
She moved her eyes toward him, the sound of his voice demanding she do as he said, and she met his dark eyes.
“Touch yourself,” he repeated.
His voice was a whisper, a brush of silk against her skin, but still she didn’t move.
He waited, and she did as well, and then in the next breath she exhaled. “I don’t know… I don’t know what to do,” she said.
“You never have before,” he said.
It wasn’t a question, and for some reason hearing him voice the words made her burn with shame.
“I try. But I just feel stupid,” she said looking away again.
“Look at me,” he said.
Again, she complied, and again met his darkened blue eyes.
“What do you feel?” he said.
“Like a fool,” she said.
She giggled after her words, but he didn’t change his stoic expression.
Instead he looked down, his gaze lingering on her breasts.
“What do you feel?” he asked again, not lifting his eyes from her.
She paused a moment, but the question sank in and then she began to talk. “My stomach is fluttering, I have goose bumps on my skin.”
“And your tits?” he asked.
“Tight, heavy,” she said, focusing in on her nipples, noticing that the more he talked, the more she focused, the more intense the feeling became.
“Touch them,” he said.
She moved again, brushing her fingers across her nipples, then letting out a little sigh when they occurred under her touch.
“Again,” he said.
She was almost hypnotized, his voice spurring her with each word he whispered, but she did as he said, and touched the tight tips of her breasts. She twisted slightly, moaned out loud with the shock of pain that went through her and was followed by another shock of desire.
“Caress your body, but keep one hand there,” he said.
She didn’t hesitate this time and began to run her fingers across her stomach, then lower, against the rough hair that covered her pussy.
“More,” he said.
She didn’t need his encouragement, and she continued to tug at her nipple and then, not feeling so shy anymore, reached between her thighs.
She was soaked, her fingers instantly drenched by her own essence.
“You’re wet,” he said. Again not a question.
She nodded.
“Let me see,” he said.
Her eyes, which had gone heavy-lidded popped open, and met his again.
“Let me see,” he repeated.
She felt a delicious thrill move through her, and she strolled along her lips and then lifted her hand, fingers glistening under the dim light in the room.
He gave a quick smile, the only hint that he was in any way responding, and then said, “Keep going.”
She did, stroking even harder at her slit now and then probing between her legs, moaning every time her finger brushed her clit.
She hadn’t been joking when she said she didn’t do this, and every time she’d tried she’d always given up, feeling conspicuous, not turned on.
She’d never felt like she did now though, lifting her heavy breasts, the weight of her breasts in her hand, the slick wetness, the soft, low, wet sound of her fingers brushing back and forth over her soaking-wet pussy.
“Come here,” he said.
She lifted her eyes, which almost seemed impossible, and then began to walk toward him, something else that seemed impossible.
He put his hand on the spot next to him and she sat there, the soft leather of the couch cool against her skin.
“Don’t stop,” he said.
She didn’t think she’d be able to, but she continued to twist and tug her nipple and stroke between her legs.
She moaned when Eric lifted one of her legs and hooked it over his, but he kept his hand on her knee, his rough, heavy palm burning against her skin.
He watched her, his own eyes dropping, and she inched her legs farther apart, not sure what drove her, but satisfied when she saw the spark in his eyes.
“So pretty, so wet,” he said, his voice sounding far off.
She lowered her lids, unable to keep them open as she was swept up by the pleasure. And she found herself stroking harder, faster, desperate for the climax that she could feel building.
“You’re close,” he said, his voice a deep rumble.
She nodded, not able to speak.
“Come,” he said.
As he spoke, she brushed her finger against her clit and the combination of his voice, the sound seeming to seep into her skin, and her finger touching her most sensitive place pushing her to the edge.
She cried out, her pussy gushing, her cry a low, twisted sound in the den.
She came back to herself, aware first of his hand against her skin, and then the fact that she was naked.
He kept his hand where it was and then leaned forward, moving slowly.
She was frozen in the spot, desperately wanted him to kiss her.
He did, but only a soft peck against her cheek.
Then he pulled back, pushed her legs together, and smiled.
“Your first lesson.”
* * *
Eric was still sitting in the same spot more than ten minutes after Lexi had left.
When he had agreed to do this with her, he’d known it was the right thing. He couldn’t imagine anyone else taking Lexi’s virginity. And even though nothing would come of it and they certainty wouldn’t have anything like a relationship, he’d always have that.
