Hot Stories for Cold Nights (21 page)

I
T ALL BEGAN IN MY SENIOR YEAR IN COLLEGE. MY LIVING arrangements sucked, so I answered an ad from a woman looking for a roommate. I was delighted with both the small house and the twentysomething brunette who would live there with me. The cost was doable and I quickly gave Carrie a check for the first and last month's rent.

“I'm delighted you're going to be moving in, Angie,” she said. “When Pauline broke her leg and moved back home I thought I'd have to carry the whole rent myself.” She hugged me quickly, grabbed her cell phone, and told several friends about our new arrangement.

I moved in a day later and settled in easily. We quickly became fast friends and, although I had my own bathroom, Carrie and I comfortably shared the kitchen and living room. Neither of us were party people so, when not with our respective boyfriends, we spent many an evening in front of the TV together watching reality shows or rented movies.

Things changed just before Thanksgiving. Her shower was larger than the one in my bathroom and one afternoon I'd been caught in the rain and took advantage of her absence to use it, accidentally leaving my shampoo and body wash behind.

Needing my stuff back, the following afternoon I knocked on her bathroom door and, hearing nothing, walked in. I entered and there was Carrie, her well-shaped body wet and naked, stepping from the shower. “It's fine,” she said. “No sweat,” she said as she saw my hesitation. “You came for your stuff. I meant to put everything back in your bathroom but I forgot.” She motioned. “It's all on the back of the john.”

I stuttered a bit when I realized that, although we'd lived together for almost three months, we'd not seen each other naked before. I wasn't embarrassed, it was merely awkward.

My gaze dropped to her crotch area, and I was startled to realize that she'd shaved her pubic hair. When she followed my stare she laughed. “Tommy loves me this way, so I shave almost every day.”

“God,” I said as Carrie casually wrapped herself in a towel. “Jeff would go bonkers. Once in a while we rent a porno flick and he ogles the naked pussies.”

“So why don't you shave?”

Why? “I thought it would be icky. Doesn't it get all itchy and stubbly?”

“Not if you're careful. I use before- and aftershave stuff and haven't had any problems.”

My body reacted to the thought of my boyfriend's reaction. “Jeff would jump me in a New York minute if I did that.”

“So? Go for it. You're welcome to borrow what you need.”

“Can I do it myself?”

“I've been shaving for almost a year and it's become second nature for me. For you, it would be good if someone showed you the ropes. You could always let Jeff do it.”

I though of Jeff's huge football-player hands. “I'd be afraid to let him touch me like that. Sex is one thing, but shaving my pussy? He'd be all thumbs.”

Carrie raised a questioning eyebrow. “I could do it for you the first time if you'd like.”

“You would?”

And that was how it started. “Sure. I don't have the time right now,” she said, rubbing her hair dry. “You available late afternoon tomorrow?”

“Jeff is picking me up around six. Would we be done by then?”

“I can leave my office at four so we could start around four thirty. Your last class is at two, right? So that should work.”

“Great. Anything I should get?”

“I've got everything. If you get here before I do, take a long hot shower and we'll make Jeff drool.”

The following afternoon, by the time I was done in the shower Carrie was in her bedroom arranging several items on her night stand. “My tools,” she said.

Wrapped in a towel, I looked at all the stuff she'd gathered. She had creams, lotions, a pair of scissors, and a razor. “Okay. What should I do?”

“Unless it makes you uncomfortable, lose the towel and lie across the bed with your legs off the edge over here.” As I settled she said, “You've got a great body, by the way. I've always liked the way you wear your clothes, but I've never seen you completely nude before. Not bad at all.”

“Thanks,” I said, a little embarrassed by her praise.

“No sweat,” she said lightly. Then she picked up the scissors. “First I need to trim your bush really short. The only thing you need to do is hold still. Very still.”

“Believe me, I won't move a muscle.”

While she trimmed my pubic hair the only sound in the room was the snick of the scissors. At one point the cold metal touched the inside of my thigh and I gasped, but kept entirely unmoving.

When she was done, she said, “Okay. I have some softening lotion that will make the razor work much better.” She began to apply something mildly aromatic all over my groin. I was a little abashed to realize that her ministrations were arousing me.

I'd never been with a woman and I didn't think I had any lesbian in me, but erotic touches were erotic touches and my pussy began to tingle. Seeming oblivious to my excitement, Carrie then smoothed shaving cream on my parts.

“This is a new razor and I advise you to use a fresh disposable every time. Again, don't move!”

I held still and the feel of the long, slow strokes of the blade only added to my arousal. Then I felt her fingers delving into my folds. Suddenly I didn't think that shaving my pussy was all she was doing. She'd told me not to move so I used that as a mental excuse not to stop her.

“You're being very good,” Carrie said, her breath hot on my newly bare skin. “Not moving and all. I'm not hurting you, am I?”

My nipples contracted and I began to pant. “No,” I managed to say.

“Good,” she said, her voice soft and breathy. Her fingers slipped through my totally wet flesh, now lubricated with my juices. “Have you ever done anything like this before?”

I knew she meant played sexually with a woman. Not misunderstanding, I answered, “No.”

Her fingers playing with my inner lips, Carrie said, “I want you to know that I'm not a homosexual. Rather, I love sex, with guys and occasionally with women as well.”

“I've never . . .”

“I realize that.” She paused. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

I thought a minute. “No,” I said softly. “As long as it won't ruin our friendship.”

“Why would it?” she said. “Just relax.”

Her thumbs parted me and her mouth found my slit, her teeth nipping at my swollen flesh, one forefinger slowly invading me. I wanted to say something but I was totally incapable of speech. Her hot breath flowed over my bare, wet skin as a second finger joined the first, filling me, as her lips found my clit. She sucked and in only a few moments I could hold back no longer. Waves of orgasm flowed over me causing all my muscles to clench and my toes to curl. I couldn't catch my breath and I felt my pulse pound in my ears.

She kept licking and sucking until I began to calm. When I could speak, I said, “Shit. That was a surprise.”

“A good one I hope,” Carrie said.

“A very good one.”

“I'm glad. However, this means you need to take another shower to wash off all the, well, let's just say leftovers, and then I'll finish with some aftershave lotion.”

Still breathing rapidly but trying to sound calm I asked, “When will I have to do this again?”

“I shave every day or so, and I'll be glad to help you next time.”

I raised my head and looked into Carrie's eyes. “I hope you will.”

E
LLIE HAD BOUGHT THE PAINTING AT A NEIGHBORHOOD tag sale. She wasn't sure exactly what had appealed to her about the swirls of reds and blacks, but something in the abstract design spoke to her and, after she bargained the owner down to twenty dollars, she'd bought it.

Now, in her tiny apartment, she was thinking about where to hang it. She had no wall space in her minuscule living room, so she carried it into the bedroom. No place there, either. She realized that her impulse purchase had probably been a waste of money, but she somehow couldn't bear to part with it. She cleared a little space on her dresser and propped it against the mirror. “For the moment,” she said aloud, “you'll live here. I can use the bathroom mirror when I need to.”

That evening she lay on her bed, feet pointing toward the painting, just gazing into the central swirl. For a moment it seemed to be moving, like some kind of special-effects vortex.
Don't be silly
, she told herself,
you've got a little Spielberg in your brain
.

But it did seem to be spinning slowly. As she watched, the painting dissolved into the form of a man. He wasn't looking at her, rather standing in profile in what looked like a bedroom.
Okay
, she told herself,
no more pepperoni pizzas for you!

He was there, however. She blinked and he remained, combing his hair in front of what must be his dresser. There was a lamp, a wristwatch, a wallet, some bills and change, and three books on it and everything looked very real. She rubbed her eyes but the image didn't fade. Rather it seemed to gradually grow larger until it filled the picture frame.

The man stood quietly, dressed in a long-sleeved black polo and dark jeans. As she watched, she realized that he was truly gorgeous, wavy chestnut hair that curled over the neck-band of his shirt, a truly perfect profile with a straight nose and beautiful lips. She couldn't quite make out the color of his eyes and finding out seemed important. She moved off the bed, but as soon as the angle changed, the image faded and all she could see was the original black-and-red abstract design.

“Dumb,” she said out loud. “What nonsense.”

Ellie wandered into her mini-kitchen, pulled a beer from the fridge, and filled a glass. She carried it back into the bedroom and again gazed at the painting. And that was what it was. A painting. Only a painting.

Stretched out on the bed again Ellie reached for the TV remote. When she glanced at the painting once more, it dissolved and the hunk was there again. Now he turned to face her, seeming to fumble for something. A TV remote. It was as though she was gazing at him from out of his TV.

She took a moment to admire his face. Classic lines, deep brown eyes, arching eyebrows, and a firm chin with a deep cleft.
God
, she thought,
he's really fabulous.
He had wide shoulders and beautiful hands, with long, graceful fingers.

Sipping her beer she followed his movements as he settled on his bed to watch TV. He made himself comfortable, feet facing her, and grabbed a beer from his bedside table. He sipped, and so did she. It was like sharing something.

Time slipped by and eventually he flipped off his TV and stood at the foot of his bed, giving her a great view of his well-developed physique. He grasped the back of his shirt and pulled it off over his head.

Great chest
, she thought,
with lots of curly dark hair.
He had well-defined biceps and muscular shoulders. He unbuttoned his jeans, then turned and disappeared from view. Damn. Just when things were getting good.
Bathroom
, she thought. Tooth brushing and the like. It helped to control her developing lust to think of him doing mundane stuff like that.

He returned and, while she watched, almost drooling, unzipped and pulled off his jeans. He stood in all his glory, wearing only a pair of black briefs, with no doubt about the treasure beneath. He wasn't erect but he did fill out the front of those black briefs really well.

She knew she was panting but she controlled herself as best she could as he turned and gave her a great view of his butt. Wow, what a butt, firm ass cheeks that moved provocatively beneath his cotton shorts as he walked away. Then the light went out.

Shit
, she thought.
I might just have to have more pepperoni pizza tomorrow night.

Reluctantly she stood, removed her clothing and climbed into her bed, naked between the cool sheets. Just before she turned out the bedside light, she gazed at the painting, but it was again merely red-and-black swirls.

 

 

THE FOLLOWING EVENING SHE TRIED TO STAY IN THE LIVING room and resist the temptation to see whether Mr. Black Briefs was there again.
Hell
, she thought,
why resist?
She wandered into the bedroom and again stretched out on the bed. The painting dissolved and he was already there, this time in a kelly green shirt and chinos.

He was sooo hot. He absently combed his fingers through those luscious waves and Ellie could almost feel the strands beneath her hands. Again time slipped by and soon he stood and turned off the TV. Had she spent an entire evening just watching him? He pulled off his shirt and she reached out, almost able to feel the smooth contours of his chest. Then he rubbed his palms over the exact spot her hands were reaching for and for a moment their fingers were superimposed.