Girl Fever (19 page)

They had to stop when the flight attendants started preparing for the landing. They licked their fingers clean and managed to straighten up their pants before the attendant passed their seats. The sound of the attendant checking on the overhead bin woke up Ella's mother.

Ella's mother looked over to see her daughter reading
In Cold Blood
. Her Japanese neighbor appeared to be sleeping. It looked like Ella hadn't read much since she'd fallen asleep, but she was happy. Ella's mother couldn't figure out why, because she knew that book was damn depressing.

 

 

 

 

 

S
it on my face.” Amelia's already unzipping her jeans.

I look up from the folder for my next appointment. A part of me is surprised, but shouldn't be. After our last meeting it was the next step to further blurring the lines.

My phone rings. On the other end Jack asks if I'm ready for my 4:00 o'clock. I tell him to give me five minutes.

Amelia holds up ten digits.

“Make that ten,” I say.

Amelia comes around the couch in my office with her lips curled in her mischievous way. I had stopped saying this wasn't professional, wasn't right, and ceased mentioning my pseudo-girlfriend—a withdrawn “artist” on perpetual retreat in Europe.

The first time Amelia and I met she said she wasn't sure who she could talk to. Only twenty, she admitted as she bit her lip ring that she had a lot of feelings she didn't discuss with anyone. When I mentioned my girlfriend in casual conversation a brightness to her face revealed her interest, and after that she kept staring at me. I felt her eyes lingering all over my body. She always turned back to look at me before leaving, saying with a smirk more than a smile that she looked forward to seeing me again.

Amelia became more open, and talked about how much she liked the beach; how she often went there before coming to see me, swam, and watched the couples walking around. She admitted she wanted something like that with another woman. Thought about someone all the time, but wouldn't say who. She licked her lips as she spoke, revealing a tongue ring.

When I asked her to discuss this woman, she grinned at me for a while, making me uncomfortable. She stared at my legs as I crossed and uncrossed them. With her fingers lingering near her crotch, she pushed her head back as she bit her lip ring again.

I knew she was testing me, teasing me to see if I'd react. I kept still, held her gaze and refused to look away as she described taking a vibrator and pushing it against herself until the pulsation made her scream this lady's name so loud she couldn't deny her feelings anymore.

It took a few weeks for her to reveal that her dreams
were about me, and constant. She couldn't focus in classes, always got wet at the beach in anticipation. She thought about fucking me, sucking every orifice of my body. She wanted to bend me over the couch and plunge her fingers inside me, hear me cry her name. She always touched herself when she had these dreams, and said she came so hard she went dizzy afterward.

When she told me this I believe I held back, gulped down the arousal surging through me and tried not to fan myself with my shirt to combat the rising heat in my body. I attempted to not think of the girlfriend I hadn't heard from in two months—probably fucking someone else—as I listened to a girl fifteen years my junior tell me how sexy she found me.

“You have a schoolteacher look,” she said. “The wire frames and pencil skirts and all that. You look so put together all the time. I can't help it. Makes me wanna ruffle you up.”

I cleared my throat, trying to get back on track. “It seems that you're more comfortable with yourself now than you were when we first met.”

“I was never
uncomfortable.
Just lonely. At school everyone is childish. Immature. I need someone on my level, older.”

“Perhaps you should seek out someone closer to your age?”

“Uh-huh. So, how's your
girlfriend
?” The way she asked was mocking. It made the heat of my excitement fizzle slightly.

“We're not here to talk about me. We're here to talk about you.”

She rolled her eyes and mumbled, “Fine. Doesn't change that I wanna fuck you.”

Before we parted I told her we'd have to discuss boundaries next time.

After that I suggested breathing exercises for relaxation, more for myself than her. I couldn't take another hour of her staring, arousing me with her stories, crossing a line I didn't need crossed, but I wanted to cross it the more I thought about her tongue ring. I shook my head and reminded myself that it was unprofessional.

As she closed her eyes I did the same. Exhale. Inhale.
Deeply.
As we kept breathing I felt my mind drift somewhere else while my legs were spread, my skirt lifted and my panties lowered. Amelia's breath was warm on my thigh as she pushed my skirt up to my hip. I became so wet I couldn't help but scoot down toward her face.

Had my door been open anyone in the office passing by would've seen the back of my head rolling right and left as she tasted me. But she didn't want me to come. Amelia stood up when the clock hit 3:55 and said she'd see me next week.

“Next time, we should discuss desire,” she said playfully.

After she left I cursed her and made myself come before my next appointment.

Now Amelia lies flat on the couch, naked except for pink ankle socks reminding me how young she is.

Any line that had been drawn was eradicated when her tongue was inside me, so I strip down to nothing but my bra and crouch over her, reverse cowgirl, so I can taste her. Her nails dig into my ass, pull me down so she can bury her lips in mine. I lurch up, sighing as I shift forward to suck on her clit, smooth in my mouth, hardening as she groans into me. Her breath makes me hotter. It's tit for tat as I lick her, she licks me. We're a cunnilingus seesaw. She pulls me down, then I move forward to delve between her legs.

Her tongue licks me like a lollipop, flicking, flicking, flicking. I push my fingers inside her, and they come out slick. I rub her clit then glide my fingers around the red hairs leading to her pulsing cunt.

“Please,” she says. I like being on the teasing side this time, back in the seat of power.

Her tongue goes faster and I feel myself throb, clench, buckle and explode. She kisses me, sending shivers through my body as I hover over her. I gather my focus and lean forward. My tongue hits her folds, tasting of salt from the sea she swims in; I hum against her clit and feel her legs tremble in my grip. Once I start to nibble she shakes harder.

“Fuck, right there,” she whispers.

The phone rings again and I decide we're done for the day. I climb off her, grab for my clothes on the floor
and toss a few items her way. She gapes at me.

I button my shirt, smooth it down and point to the door, to my next patient beyond the walls. “Next week, we'll have to practice patience.”

 

 

 

 

 

M
onday evening, a crowded tube. Always the same at this time of night. Bad day at work, clients arguing over suggested proposals, too hot; sweaty bodies standing alongside my own, reaching upward to hold on as the train twists and turns its noisy way down a cold metal track. My mind is full of office problems, the proposal foremost, causing tension in my weary shoulders. A station approaches, a screech of brakes—passengers surge forward—a hot tender hand on my ass…?

Tuesday evening, a better day. Proposals altered, better understanding all round. Another hot day, another sweaty train ride, familiar faces, familiar smells. Arms reaching up, holding on, spreading musk. Nudging me. Redundant umbrellas intruding on space, fooled by the forecast of rain. Suits, skirts, white shirts. Tired bored
faces. Humming and rattling, gentle swaying as a station approaches, the one before mine. A surge of people brush past. A soft hand sweeps along the curve of my asscheek. I turn but blank faces give nothing away.

Wednesday, proposals accepted. A long happy lunch, a celebration of difficult negotiations. Relieved smiling faces all round, a little giddy. An earlier ride home. No standing, very little sweat. Read a magazine, listen to gentle rattles, sway with the engine taking me home. Lonely ride. Uninterrupted departure. Feels strange. Something missing.

Thursday. Easy day, calm office, slight hangover. Quiet mood. Usual leaving time. Head for platform. Anticipation. Heart fluttering. Observing passengers around me. All female. Tall, short, beautiful. Eye contact made! Surely not? Long, jet-black hair, blood-red lips, knowing smile, knowing…

She moves closer, buried in the surrounding bodies, hand reaching beneath my skirt. She strokes my ass with gentle open fingers, both cheeks, slowly, her lips breathing heat against my neck. It's her stop. She gets off the train. Couldn't sleep.

Friday. Can't concentrate at work. Long, slow day. Idle chatter about weekend events. Clock-watching. Five P.M. train. Saw her! Heart thumps. Standing closer, wry smile. Sharp business suit. Black skirt, white blouse, straining, straining. Feel nervous, look away. Dry mouth. Look back. Her stop. She comes close, breathes deeply. She links my willing arm and we get off the train.

No conversation. Her BMW. Her drive. Follow meekly, heart pounding now, feel wired. Damp. Incredibly excited.

She unlocks her front door and pulls me inside. Against the wall, her blood-red lips claiming mine, tongue against tongue, hands deep in my hair. Gasping. She unbuttons my blouse, unhooks my bra, squeezes my nipples. Her mouth slides down and she nips them hard. I yelp and tug her black, glossy mane. She swirls her hands around my breasts, making circles. I'm yielding to her passionate touch. Her knee presses against my sex. She pulls up my skirt, urgently. Greedy painted fingernails scratching. Pulling down damp panties. Stroking eager fingers along my slippery entrance. Two enter me, and I feverishly push against them. Twisting, frigging, curling toward my G-spot. I want her, I need her. My hands find her breasts, freeing them from her tight white blouse. Small, pert, horny. I squeeze, she groans, I pull her close. Our breasts press together, rubbing, urging, willing. Four erect nipples, protruding, tingling. I take off her blouse, her bra, her skirt, and look down to admire pure white lace covering shiny black pubic hair. She slides lower along me, dropping to her knees. Her warm wet tongue finds me, slides up; flat lapping, pointed probing. Teeth nipping. Thumbs open me wide, tonguing fast. My voice is a whimper. A deep, panting whimper. Nails scratch my ass, digging in, pulling me onto her hot tongue pushing deeply, upward, in and out, in and out. I cry out, grip her beautiful whore's
hair, and pull her deeper, my legs wide; wet. Her fingers slide against my ass bud and squeeze inside against tight resistance. Her tongue deep, she fucks with long wet strokes, claiming me, taking me. I cry louder, pull her to me, and ride her face, grinding against those blood-red lips covered in my juices. My legs begin to shake and tremble, my clit throbs furiously, building and building. I jerk as the heat rips through my body, disabling me, making my legs tremble violently. I twitch, I writhe, I give myself up to the orgasm climbing and spreading itself throughout me and eventually spewing forth from my mouth as a shrill cry cutting sharply through the humid air.

She kisses the last gasp from my mouth and holds me close, warm, wet…spent.

We slide to the floor. A contented human puddle.

 

 

 

 

 

L
ucy's in back of the stationery closet, giving it one last chance to give up the red paper she needs for the director's latest memo, when the door creaks open and bangs closed. She hears shuffling feet and opens her mouth to shout a hello, since she's tucked round behind a rack of lab equipment and doesn't want to give their elderly receptionist a heart attack.