Coming Together: With Pride (12 page)

Frank was staring at her again, his eyes twinkling behind his wire-framed glasses. Absently, he scratched his unruly head. She could tell that he hadn't showered.

"I guess, then, that we're neighbors."

"Yes, well, I don't spend much time at home." She licked her lips nervously. "Mostly, I'm at work."

"You work too hard, I think. You need to take time to enjoy life." He rummaged in his pocket, and she caught another glimpse of his scrotum and his half-hard cock. Hastily, she turned to examine one of the posters.

"Want to do a number?" He was holding out a fat, hand-rolled cigarette. Kit felt a sudden panic.

"No—um—I don't do drugs. I know too much about them."

"Oh?" He lit the joint himself and drew in a lungful of the fragrant smoke.

"Yes, well, I work for a pharmaceutical company."

"Really? What a coincidence." She didn't understand. But she didn't want to ask questions or prolong the conversation. Really, she didn't want to talk about herself at all. She thought she should be going home.

He took another toke and held it, closing his eyes. His expression was beatific. He reminded her of some hairy elf, or perhaps a giant, grizzled teddy bear. The smell of pot drowned out the incense. Kit felt dizzy.

Frank stubbed out his joint. "Stand up… What's your name?" His voice was soft, dreamy.

"Kit."

"What's that short for?"

"Katerina."

"Oh, I like that much better. It suits you. I've always thought that ladies should have long, intricate names, names that dance on your tongue. Stand up, Katerina. Please. Let me look at you."

She felt brief indignation. Nobody told her what to do. Yet she obeyed, coming to her feet in front of him, so close, too close, the reach of bare skin between her top and shorts inches from him. She was light-headed, not herself.

"Katerina," he whispered. Then he reached out and grasped her buttocks, pulling her to his face.

His beard was softer than it looked, tickling her. For a moment, he simply held her, breathing in, inhaling her as if she were another drug. Suddenly, there was shocking wetness. His tongue circled her navel, dipped inside. Her sex clenched in a delicious spasm. He lapped in widening circles, then traced a wet path up her sternum. When he reached her bra, he deftly peeled back the stretchy material to expose her small breasts. He fastened his mouth on one swollen nipple. Kit moaned, embarrassed by her urgent need.

He sucked at her 'til the node of flesh was unbearably tender. Just when she couldn't bear any more, he switched to the other breast, strumming the rigid bead at its tip while her clit vibrated in sympathy.

"Oh, please..." she sighed. Her shorts were sticky and uncomfortable. She wanted them off. Frank paused and smiled at her. "Just a moment, Katerina, if you can be patient. I have something for you."

He scurried off to the glass display case, a comic figure, his shorts slipping down his hips to expose his furry butt. Her belly and breasts were soaked with his saliva.

Kit shuddered, desire mixed with revulsion. How could she let this smelly, hairy, untidy, old—anachronism—touch her? But God, it felt so good. Her cunt was sopping. Her pussy scent overwhelmed the smell of pot.
I should go
, she told herself,
get out of here while I can
. But, before she could will herself to move, Frank was back, pulling her bra over her head, fastening a delicate silver chain around her waist. He eased her shorts over her hips. She kicked off her shoes, and he shimmied the Lycra garment down to her ankles and off.

Kit stood before him, naked except for the ornamental chain. The silver strands brushed, ghostly, against her sensitized skin. Frank licked his lips. His eyes burned blue as gas flames; she basked in the heat of his obvious lust.

"Oh, yes," he breathed. "I thought that would suit you. Yes indeed..." His fingertips traced an airy path across her skin, touching but not touching, setting up currents that caressed her throat, her breasts, her belly, the smooth mound between her legs. "I don't know why you do it, though."

"Do what?" Kit almost groaned with frustration, as he appraised rather than caressed her.

"Shave, wax, whatever it is you do to remove your bush. A bare beaver looks so—unnatural."

Annoyance almost overwhelmed Kit's horniness. "Well, I haven't had any complaints from anyone else. Also, without the hair, I'm more sensitive."

His mischievous smile returned. "Oh, is that true? Well, then..." He slipped to his knees and peeled open her lower lips with his thumbs. "I've always enjoyed sensitive women." The tip of his tongue flicked across her swollen clit. Her back arched in reflex, forcing her pussy into his face. The old goat immediately took advantage, fastening his mouth on her sex and sucking like a human Hoover. His tongue gathered the juices from her depths then smeared them over her naked mound.

"Oh, um, ooh..." Kit writhed against him, wordlessly begging him to return his tongue to her throbbing clit. He seemed oblivious, though, focusing instead on her labia and the depths of her pussy. It felt exquisite, intense, but her clit screamed for some of the attention of that wet and agile tongue.

Then he stopped.

"What...?" she began. She sucked in a surprised breath as he deftly scooped her into his arms.

His curly chest hair tickled her breasts. He smelled a bit funky, sweat rather than soap; hints of pot smoke and incense lingered in his beard. Before she knew it, she was stretched out on her back on the pile of carpets and cushions she had noticed earlier, with the surprisingly strong and flexible old hippie kneeling between her spread thighs.

He rubbed his fingertip against the rigid bead of flesh at her center. She yelped, her pelvis dancing on the velvety surface under her. Apparently pleased with this reaction, he continued to massage her clit with one hand, while the other dabbled in her soaking cunt. One finger, then two, deep into her, but not deep enough. She moaned and twisted as both hands played her, one devoted to her clitoris, the other wandering, stroking, even gently probing her taut rear hole.

Luscious colors swirled across Kit's closed eyelids, whorls and eddies of brilliant blue and emerald green that pulsed in time with the throbbing in her pussy. She breathed in gasps, sucking in smoke and sandalwood. She was melting, liquefying. She was crystallizing into a thing of pure pleasure.

The crystal shattered. Kit wailed, her body going rigid and then limp. Frank continued to stroke her gently, drawing wetness from her depths, trailing it along her inner thighs. For a long time, Kit basked in the rosy after-pleasure, perfectly relaxed, forgetting that he was there.

He bent to kiss her. The salty seaweed taste of her own sex shocked her into awareness. "You enjoyed that, didn't you, princess?" he murmured in her ear. "I told you that you shouldn't work so hard."

Kit opened her eyes to see his goofy, bearded face hanging over her. His cheeks looked sticky; a droplet of milky fluid clung to his bushy moustache. The odors of cannabis and cunt almost suffocated her. He stroked her cheek, absurdly gentle. She flinched, pulled away, extricated her body from underneath his and clambered to her feet.

"I've got to go. I'm way behind schedule." She struggled to get back into her damp, twisted running clothes. He looked puzzled, wounded.

"But princess, we're just getting to know each other. Why don't you come on up to my room? I've got a truly groovy waterbed, and an amazing stereo..." He reached for her. She twisted away, steadfastly trying not to see the huge erection poking out of his pitiful shorts.

"No—sorry, I can't. I've got to go." She jammed her feet into her trainers and turned her back on him.

"Katerina."

She shrugged off the hand on her shoulder. "No. Sorry. Um, thanks for the coffee." She could barely speak with embarrassment. She didn't look back at his stricken face as she closed the door behind her, raced down the steps and around the corner to the safety of her own condo.

Once home, Kit slammed and locked the door behind her. She couldn't believe what she'd done; what she'd let him do. It wasn't that she was against sex—far from it. It's just that he was so very wrong. So wrong for her. She should never have encouraged him.

Nevertheless, she had felt incredibly relaxed, and suddenly sleepy. She considered a shower, but didn't make it that far. Must be the drugs, she thought as she drifted off. Contact high.

Afternoon sun was slanting in through the drapes when she awoke. She felt alert, refreshed, and ravenous. After a quick shower, she padded naked into the kitchen and got herself a cheese sandwich and a diet cola. She took her late lunch into her study and sat down, ready to get back to the problem of her recalcitrant protein.

As she waited for her machine to boot, she took a deep breath and tried to focus her thoughts. She took a bite of her sandwich, savoring the smoky Jarlsberg and the crisp greens.

The curtains were open. She realized that he might, just might, be able to see into the room. A blush crept over her, starting with her cheeks to warm her earlobes, her nipples, her fingers and toes. What was she thinking of, sitting there nude? She glanced down at her naked body, and realized that she was still wearing Frank's chain around her waist. She unclasped it. It lay coiled in her hand, glittering seductively.

Oh, dear!
She would have to return it. But not in person. Definitely not in person. She could package it up and leave it on his doorstep. She could mail it to him. Even as Kit mulled over the various ways she could get the chain back to its rightful owner without further compromising herself, she was putting on a summer shift, earrings, sandals. She was still arguing with herself when she found herself on Frank's doorstep, the chain clutched in her fist.

She couldn't help it. She didn't understand. Frank opened the door wearing nothing but an Indonesian batik sarong and holding a half-full wine glass.

"Katerina! What a completely unexpected pleasure."

Kit held out her palm. "I—um—you should take this back."

"But I gave it to you, princess. It's yours." His eyes narrowed and his smile widened. "You know that. You didn't need to come back here."

"Well, I wanted to, um, apologize for acting so..." Normally, the most articulate member of her team, Kit now found that she was unable to assemble a coherent sentence.

Frank laughed. "So wanton? So deliciously horny? No apologies necessary, princess. Quite the contrary." He grabbed her wrist. "Come in, have some wine with me." Kit seemed unable to resist. "We'll just talk, that's all. Don't worry. I want to get to know you, find out about you and your life and your work."

Before she knew it, Kit was sitting at the linoleum table in the kitchen at the back of the house, a full wine-glass in front of her. She couldn't seem to explain that she didn't drink. Frank raised his glass.

"To neighbors. To new friends." He sipped at the wine. A ruby drop hung in the thicket above his full lips. "To chemistry."

Then all at once, he was kissing her, his mouth a bewildering array of flavors: wine, sweat, pot, and faintly, pussy. A wildfire of desire raced through her body. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, and she met it halfway. His hands were all over her, snaking down her neckline to caress her tits, sliding up her hips under her dress, slipping between her damp thighs as he discovered she wore nothing underneath.

In less than ten seconds, he had his fingers crammed in her cunt, and she was humping them madly, moaning and twisting herself to force him deeper. He threw off the sarong and lifted her onto his lap, impaling her on the rod of flesh that jutted from his hairy groin. He was both fatter and longer than Todd, but Kit was so soaked and ready that there was no resistance.

For a moment, they were still. She could feel him filling her, stretching her exquisitely. His cock seemed to pulse, expanding and contracting within her in time with their synchronized breaths.