Waves and Light: Opposites Attract Series

by Elizabeth J. Merrill

  I shrugged and took another mind-blowing bite.

  Bob exchanged some look I couldn’t interpret with David, and he mumbled something over my head, but I was too busy losing it over the chocolate cake to pay attention.

  David

  Bob gave me a look that implied I had snagged a live one in B.D. I mumbled back something along the lines of we’re just friends. He shook his head. Maybe I needed to rethink my stance on staying away from B.D. for professional reasons, if Bob thought I was crazy. No. I couldn’t afford to get tied down and since I would be seeing B.D. all the time until I graduated, I couldn’t follow my standard love ‘em and leave ‘em M.O. Maybe I could spend some quality time with her in the spring and leave at the end of the semester, but even as I thought it, I knew I couldn’t do it. B.D. just wasn’t the type you left once you had her.

  Once B.D. had finished her cake and ended the When-Harry-Met-Sally impression, they introduced the keynote speaker, some developer from Google. He talked about how they continued to develop and refine their search algorithm then went into how their Agile development cycle allowed for a flexible, customer-oriented experience. Whatever.

  B.D. managed to hold it together during the algorithm talk, but as soon as the speaker started using buzzwords like customer experience and ultra-flexible, she started to drift. I had to start playing games like counting the number of times the guy smoothed his tie to maintain a facade of interest, but B.D. clearly hadn’t developed any such techniques, because I glanced over at her just in time to see her eyes close and her body start to lean off the edge of the chair alarmingly. I used it as an excuse to pinch her cute butt. She startled slightly but managed to recover and give me the cutest pissed-off glare I’ve ever seen. I motioned toward the speaker and pretended interest. She didn’t wait around to pay me back though. While I stared with rapt attention, she managed to casually drop ice down my back. I suppressed the shriek that threatened to burst from my lips and glared back. I decided to save my revenge for later, since B.D. and I were both awake and ready to ride out the end of the keynote address that would never end.

  He managed to drone on for another hour. By the time we finished our good-bye hobnobbing it was 3:30. Caldwell and his date, Alison, managed to track us down and suggest a trip to Baby Acapulco’s for margaritas and queso. His treat. Apparently Caldwell had convinced some A&M alumni association that this luncheon was some kind of conference, and they sprung for a room for the night at the Driskill no less, and he had a hundred buck per diem to go with that, that he was itching to spend. Those A&M guys got all kinds of perks for braving college station. Of course, B.D. pipes up that she’s under age, but ‘Ole Caldwell assured her that the way we were dressed, they would take us for young professionals and not card us. I had the valet pull up the Honda, and I managed the stealth tip while everyone else piled in.

  The next thing I know I’m staring up at the dusty pinatas in the pink fluorescent glow of Baby Acapulco’s. True to his word, Caldwell is ordering up a pitcher of margaritas and queso especial. I was wondering why Caldwell wanted to go to Baby Acapulco’s when he was staying at the gateway to bar crawl central otherwise known as 6th street, until he started practically powering margaritas down his date’s throat. Despite the fancy lunch and snazzy room, Caldwell wanted some extra insurance to close the deal. And Baby Acapulco’s (BA’s for short) could certainly deliver that. I shouldn’t have wondered. People didn’t go to Baby Acapulco’s for the trite décor, the surly service, or the lackluster Tex-Mex. People went to BA’s for the margaritas. They weren’t that good. They used the same frozen margarita mix that everyone else did, but they were strongest margaritas this side of the Rio Grande. They bumped up the tequila and triple sec with some good old-fashioned Everclear. These drinks would have you visiting your ancestors without a clue how you had gotten there. The mix hid the alcohol flavor. When you were drinking them, they tasted like lime and salt. The after-taste of regret set in later. I had learned my lesson, like most UT students, my freshmen year. Some “friends” had introduced me to margaritas at BA’s then laughed their asses off while I puked up my guts all night long. As the designated driver, I stuck with iced tea. I tried to save B.D. , but for some reason, she had decided she was going to cut loose tonight and was doing her level best to keep up with Alison and Caldwell. I knew I had let things get out of hand when B.D. came back from the restroom sporting more lipstick than Mick Jagger used during his David Bowie androgyny phase and with eyeliner smeared all across her temple.

  Chapter Twelve

  B.D.

  I’m not sure what David’s problem is. I’ve only had two glasses of margaritas, and he’s practically insisting that I stop drinking and that we go home or at least order food.

  “Why would I want to go home now?” I hissed. “Alison showed me how to do cat-eye liner in the bathroom. She had some liquid liner IN HER PURSE. I don’t even have liquid liner in my dorm room or my gym locker or my regular room in Houston or anywhere, but Alison has eye liner IN HER PURSE.” I whispered so I wouldn’t embarrass Alison. “She’s so cool. Look how she helped me with my make-up.” I pointed to my totally cool cat-eye make-up.

  “Real cool.” David agreed. “I’m sure she could give Felicity some make-up tips.”

  “Yeah, that’s a great idea. We should invite Alison to Houston. I’m sure she and Felicity would get along great.”

  “Sure. Alison seems to be the type to really appreciate make-up tips with African-American, transgendered make-artists.”

  I nodded. “Sure. She’s so cool. How about another margarita?”

  David

  I grabbed B.D.’s glass. “Why don’t we order some food?” I glanced at my watch. “We haven’t eaten in…five long hours.”

  “I guess I could go for some enchiladas,” offered B.D. tentatively.

  “Oooo. I’d love some tamales,” squealed Alison.

  Caldwell gave me a dirty look. I guess I was sidelining his plans to take advantage of his date later. I waved down a waiter.

  “Could we have some menus? And an order of guacamole?”

  Five minutes later, I was distracting B.D. with the menu selections and the guac. I’d also managed to hand her margarita glass off to the waiter and replaced it with a water glass. After the waiter had taken our order, B.D. started hunting for the margarita glass.

  “Huh? I guess the waiter took it when we ordered,” I tried to look as perplexed as she did. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll just flag down another waiter and get you a new one.” I pretended to flag down a waiter without making eye contact. “Don’t worry, I’ll get you a glass soon.”

  Caldwell filled Alison’s glass up again leaving only a few swallows in the bottom of the pitcher.

  “I’ll get us another pitcher,” added Caldwell helpfully and tried to really flag down a waiter. I gave him a look and a head shake.

  “I’ll do it,” I said with as much warning in my voice as possible.

  Just then, the food helpfully arrived, and I asked the waiter for another glass. Then I proceeded to wolf down the greasy Mexican food as quickly as possible before anyone remembered to order another pitcher. By the time the waiter came back with a glass, my plate was almost empty. I quietly asked for the check. B.D. drained the pitcher, but only managed to fill her glass half full. She frowned then remembered, “I thought we were going to order another pitcher.”

  “We were,” I explained, “but I’ve virtually finished eating. And it’s getting a bit late. Perhaps we should drop Alison and…Hunter off at the Driskill and head home.” Everyone looked disappointed-- unwilling to abandon the alcohol buzz that made them think they were having a good time.

  Just then, the waiter showed up with the check. “I’ll get it,” I chirped as I grabbed the check. “That way Caldwell can save his per diem to spend on room-service champagne.”

  “Ooooooo room-service champagne, how romantic,” she crooned as she batted her eyes at Caldwell.

  “Okay, I guess
we can head back,” agreed Caldwell reluctantly.

  The waiter scurried off with my credit card and Alison and B.D. finished off their margaritas. When the check came, I signed it as quickly as possible and practically carried B.D. to the car. At least Baby Acapulco’s had one other saving grace, it was cheap as dirt.

  I let Caldwell and Alison off in front of the Driskill and watched them stagger into the lobby. On campus, I decided not to let B.D. off at the door, but rather park the car and make her walk back the four blocks to the dorm with me. I figured the walk would do her good, and her heels weren’t that high, so it shouldn’t cause an issue.

  And I was right. By the time we got to the dorm, the alcohol was starting to wear off, but B.D. was making that smacking noise the truly dehydrated made. I stopped by the convenience store in the lobby and stocked up on Gatorade and crackers.

  “So you want to head up to my room for a debriefing?” I asked.

  B.D. cocked on eyebrow. “A debriefing?”

  “Yeah, let’s talk about how the luncheon went and what we learned?”

  “We?”

  “I learned some “stuff,”” I defended myself, but conceded, “mostly what you learned.”

  “I mostly learned that private sector hacks get to eat great food.”

  “That’s one of the advantages of the private sector—perks. Lots of perks.”

  “Yeah, really great perks,” agreed B.D.

  Back in the room I dosed her with some ibuprofen and a big glass of Gatorade.

  “You’ve got to watch those Baby Acapulco’s margaritas—they’re strong,” I explained to B.D.

  “They are strong. I know I’m a light-weight but I only had two spread out over several hours and food and walking back I realized I was a little drunk.”

  Now it was my turn to cock an eyebrow, “A little?”

  “Okay, I was drunk, but I’m sobering up now. What do they put in those margaritas? Everclear?”

  “Yup,” I confirmed.

  B.D. got an incredulous look on her face. “They put actual Everclear in their margaritas.”

  “That’s what they’re famous for. It’s certainly not to the food,” I announced while rubbing my stomach in an attempt to make up for the insult I’d given it.

  “So why’d we go there?”

  “Caldwell suggested it, and I bet if you think about it, you’ll know why.”

  I watched as realization dawned.

  “He wanted to get Alison drunk?”

  I nodded.

  “I don’t think he needed to bother. Alison was already plenty impressed with the whole room-at-the-Driskill thing. She was pretty much a sure thing.”

  “Maybe,” I explained. “Some guys just need some extra insurance. Not me though. I like my women sober, so they can appreciate my consummate skills.”

  B.D. snorted. “Yeah, your “women.”” She used finger quotes to emphasize women.

  I gave her a quizzical look. “Notice I tried to keep you sober.”

  “Well sure, you weren’t trying to seduce me.”

  “You think I’d get you drunk if I were trying to seduce you?” I asked as I sat next to B.D. on the bed.

  “Maybe you would if you tried to seduce me, but you wouldn’t do that. I’m not your type.”

  “You’re not my type? What is my type?”

  “You know, tall, dark and handsome.” She blushed. “Missing a set of these,” she explained while motioning in the general direction of her breasts.

  My eyes got wide when understanding dawned. “Oh, so you think I’m gay.”

  “Sure, you know all about fashion and dress well. And you treat me professionally like you’re not interested. You don’t try to sneak a peek when I’m changing or brush up against my boobs like other boys.”

  “See. There’s your problem. You’ve been hanging out with boys. I think you might be confusing sexual preference with maturity. I would never gaze upon your lovely body with prurient thoughts.” I snuggled up next to B.D. on the bed while I pointedly looked her beautiful body up and down. Something in me snapped. I felt like I had to demonstrate to B.D. how wrong she was. “Nor would I touch your breasts,” I brought my hand up to hover just over her right breast, “without your consent.” She nodded her head yes. I gently caressed her nipple with my thumb through her clothes. We both watched while it pebbled up.

  I brought my left hand up to cradle her jaw. “Neither would I kiss you without permission.” I brought my lips within a centimeter of hers. “May I kiss you?”

  “Yes,” she replied. And I closed the last centimeter between her lips and mine.

  B.D.

  David kissed me gently, tentatively at first, almost tasting my lips with his. Then his kiss became firmer, more demanding. His tongue forced its way in and claimed my mouth with forceful, caressing strokes. Likewise, his hand on my breast went from teasing caresses to palming, groping, and squeezing. Then he gave a frustrated sigh and broke the kiss.

  “I’d like to undress you,” he said. And it was if some psychic floodgates had opened. I answered by immediately pulling his tie through the loop and ripping if from his neck. David halted my progress undressing him to tear my blouse over my head. I unbuttoned his shirt. He undid the clasp on my bra and tore it off my shoulders. I unbuckled his belt and the first button on his pants. He unbuttoned my skirt and slid it over my hips and down to the floor. He paused to gaze at my body in just my garter belt, stockings, and panties. I turned away embarrassed. He took my chin in his hand and looked me in the eye and said, “You’re stunning.” He kissed my forehead. “Your brain is stunning.” Then he feathered kisses down my face and chest and stopped to suck on one nipple. “Your breasts are stunning.” He continued spreading tiny kisses down my body. “Your tummy is stunning and incredibly cute too.” He planted one powerful kiss on my belly button then slid off the bed onto the floor on his knees. He continued to kiss down my body while undoing my garter and slipping the stockings off my legs. Then he carefully placed a kiss on my mons through my panties. “This part of you is especially stunning, and I would like to get to know it better.” He waggled his eyebrows and hooked his fingers into the waistband of my panties. I nodded yes, too stunned to object, and raised my hips. He drew them down my legs and off my feet then went back to kissing my mons. He settled back on his heels and gently opened my legs and rested my knees on his shoulders and paused, looked directly at my pussy, kissed my clit, and said, “Your genitals are particularly stunning.” And before I knew what to say, he started licking my clitoris. He lapped away first gently, then forcefully. Then he flattened his tongue and ran it up my slit to end by pointing his tongue and circling my clit then sucking on it. He repeated this maneuver over and over. Goose bumps popped out on my legs and arms, and I started to pant, but I stayed as still as I could so as not to interfere with the incredible things David was doing to my body. It felt like something was crawling up the back of my brain to the front. Urgency for something built in my core, and I almost couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t stay in my body, and it felt like my consciousness was starting to float, then David eased two fingers into my wet slit, curled them to hit the magic spot in my vagina, and everything exploded. I writhed and arched. White, flashing lights filled my vision. I screamed Daaaavvvvviiiidddd for what felt like at least a minute. Every nerve in my body jumped. Then I was gulping in air and quivering while tiny aftershocks continued to travel through my vagina. David wrapped me in his arms. I glanced up at David, and he chuckled and kissed me slowly and carefully.

  “That’s what an orgasm is supposed to feel like,” he crowed.

  “I didn’t know.”

  He chuckled again and stroked my arm. Once I had recovered, he asked “ready for round two?”

  “Sure.”

  He stood up, reached into his desk drawer and fished out a condom and put it on top of the desk within easy reach. He grabbed me and scooted me up the bed and carefully placed a pillow under my head.

 
; “Comfortable?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Then he ripped off his pants taking his boxers with them and stood up and revealed his …OMG…anaconda. That’s why they call them that. His penis was long, smooth—except for one big vein--and almost muscular. His round, velvety pink head contrasted with the hard, creamy length of him. I must have looked a bit shocked, because David said, “Don’t worry. I’ll go slow.”

  He ripped open the condom and started to roll it on, but I interrupted. “Let me.” He pulled back his hands and let me finish rolling the condom onto his glorious length. “It seems really tight, and we haven’t really started,” I worried.

  “It’s fine. They’re magnums and they can still stretch a bit.” He lowered his body down to mine wiggling his hips between my legs and propping his body over mine. He reached down to tweak my clit and run a finger through my wetness.

  He looked into my eyes. “You feel ready. Are you ready for round two?” I nodded yes.

  He thrust just the head of his penis into my pussy. I caught my breath. He pushed in a little further with the next thrust. I drew up my knees to give him better access. He thrust a little harder and faster. Again, then again, going a bit deeper each time. Finally with one last commanding thrust he fully seated himself in me. He looked into my eyes. I nodded, trying to catch my breath. He began to thrust angling his penis so that each thrust stroked my clit. I closed my eyes and lost myself in the rhythm of his lovemaking. I panted. My nipples were hard. I could feel the endorphins flood my brain. The pleasure/pain of ecstasy was building. It was almost too much to stand, but right when I was on the edge. He stopped.

  I opened my eyes immediately.

  He gave me a naughty grin, widened his eyes, and whispered, “hang on.” Then he grabbed my shoulders and managed to flip us without disconnecting our bodies. I was sitting on top holding myself up by resting my hands on his chest—his hard, cut pecs to be precise.

  He sighed, “that’s better.” Then he flicked my nipples and started pistoning underneath me.

  I reciprocated by caressing his nipples, and he closed his eyes and moaned.