The job in Indianapolis ran long when we couldn’t get the phone company to make repairs on a weekend, so I didn’t get back home until Wednesday. I blew off the rest of the week at work and just watched TV and avoided email or going out or anything more strenuous than ordering pizza delivery. That lasted until Friday evening when the cabin fever built up to a level I just couldn’t stand anymore. I showered, shaved, put on my last clean shirt that didn’t have luggage wrinkles, and stepped out the door.
Or I was about to, but Ms. E was there, just about to knock. She was startled, and so was I – I was still thinking about where I’d eat – but she smiled and took a step back. “Oh…” Her smile was disappointed. “I caught you at a bad time.”
“No, no – not at all. I was just going out to eat. Do you want to join me? You look dressed to go out, too.” She was wearing that same coat I’d complimented last week – the last time I’d seen her in fact, but it was buttoned up to her chest. Her hair was swept back into a neat bun as it always was, her makeup fresh and dark for the evening, her lips that same shade of wet tomato red. She wore black nylons and tall heels too, but that wasn’t so unusual. I told you, she was a classy dresser.
“Actually, I was hoping to steal you for the evening. I want the pleasure of your company. I’d be more than happy to feed you dinner. But if you already made plans…?” Her brows arched hopefully, but her hands twisted the coat belt nervously.
“No. Sure. I’d love to. I just needed to shake of the confines of my apartment, you know? I didn’t even know where I was going.” I pulled the door shut behind me while she smoothed out the belt on her coat; but the tugging pulled the top button too tight over her chest and it popped open, exposing a deep plunge of neckline. Whatever blouse she was wearing tonight – even with the new view I couldn’t see it beneath the lapels of her coat – would be more sultry than anything I’d seen her wear before. At that moment I hoped that she was looking to make up for last Sunday. I’m sure I masked it well – my smile was casual. “But don’t feel like you always have to cook for me. If you trust me in your kitchen, maybe I can cook for you tonight.”
She took my hand in hers – a peculiarly intimate gesture – and led me back toward the open doors of the lift. “No, Honey. I have other plans for you.” She pressed the button for the fourth floor.
Even before the doors had finished sliding shut her hungry lips were pressed to mine, her wrists hooked around the back of my neck. She fell back against the far wall of the lift and I pressed up against her, ignoring for the moment the way the lift floor lurched. Her lips were insistent and wouldn’t let me break away to her neck and V of creamy brown behind her coat, no matter how much they beckoned. But while she held me back, I thought she was restraining herself as well. She seemed on the verge of groping me or thrusting her tongue between my teeth. Instead, she broke free to gasp and wipe the corner of her mouth, then placed a hand on my chest to keep me from leaning in again.
“Are you okay with this?” I asked. “Last Sunday…” The door behind us had opened to the fourth floor hallway, so I took a step back again. For propriety’s sake.
She nodded, still catching her breath. “Two Sundays ago, and that’s ancient history. Are you …okay? This is more than just a kiss, you realize. This is the doorway to sin, Honey.” She took my hand and slid it between the buttons of her coat, and I felt something slick and satin-smooth clinging to her belly.
To say I was surprised would be an understatement, but I nodded. (To say that I was hard would be accurate.) I could see excitement and confidence growing in her expression, and I began to tingle in anticipation.
She slid my hand free as deliberately as she’d put it in and led me out into the hall, speaking in a hurried near-whisper as we walked to her door. Her heels clacked noisily against the tile floor. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot, Honey, and before two weeks ago. I know you don’t necessarily have the same convictions as me, but I couldn’t knowingly lead you into temptation, into sin, just to satisfy my own lust. Can you understand? It’s been such a frustration! I couldn’t talk to you about it because you’re such a sweetheart I know you’d just give in to me, but I couldn’t contain myself, either.” She nibbled on her lip. “I told my friend about my problem, and she had the perfect idea.” We were stopped outside her door – her hand lingered on the handle. “There’s something else, Honey.”
She opened the door and directed me inside, but I didn’t make it more than a few feet before stopping. I’d never seen her condo when it wasn’t filled with light, even when we watched the occasional movie together, but this was dusky dim, wavering with the candlelight reflecting off the thousand crystal facets of her chandelier and the hundred knick-knacks on her always dust-free shelves. The room smelled of rose-petals and potpourri, which wasn’t surprising given the petal-strewn floor and the arrangements scattered around the room. One of her jazzy albums played lightly in the background – it was a woman with a low voice crooning sexily. In other words, her condo looked just like a seduction scene out of a Lifetime movie.
All I could say was, “Wow”.
My eyes adjusted to the low light enough that I could make out the silhouette of a wine or champagne bottle chilling in an ice bucket on the coffee table, and behind that… the shape of a woman sitting on the couch. Her legs were crossed, and the upper leg swung slightly. “Same to you,” she said, and stood.
“This is my friend, Mary,” Ms. E said from behind me as she locked her door. “She’s the ’something else’.”
Mary spread her arms and posed to prove that she really was ’something else’. I guessed she was about the same age as Ms. E – late forties or early fifties – but more slender and just beginning to wrinkle around her eyes. Curly bottle-red hair framed her face and wriggled when she shook her head. A short, silky black robe hung open from her shoulders and reached only to the tops of her thighs; beneath it she wore a teddy in satiny red and lacy black, a matching garter belt, and thigh-high stockings. She carried a nearly empty wineglass in her hands and carefully navigated Ms. E’s thick rug in her tall heels. “You’re not so bad yourself, Carmen.” Mary stopped a few feet away and glanced me over, but I’d turned back to Ms. E.
She had hung her coat on the rack by the door, and the first thing I saw – my eyes were drawn like a compass needle points to north – were the round, creamy brown globes of her ass. They were dimpled and pocked and jiggly, but I loved them. Like her friend, Ms. E wore a lingerie set: the straps of a purpley-black thong met in a 3-pointed silver chain and disappeared between upper hemispheres of her ass, and her thick waist had been cinched into a ribbed corset. She turned back to face me and put a hand lightly on my shoulder. A halter strap held the corset up over her chest and created impossibly deep cleavage. “Mary… Eric.”
I tore my eyes from Ms. E’s breasts to look back to the other woman. She held out a dainty hand, so I took it and gave it a gentle shake. “Pleasure to meet you.”
“Yes,” she said.
Then Ms. E was leading me across the room toward her couch, where she sat me down in the center cushion. She settled in next to me, crossing her legs toward me so that her stockinged feet and dangling heel could brush against my shin and tease up the bottom hem of my khakis. The other woman, Mary, half-watched us as she gathered two more wineglasses from the kitchen counter and bent over the coffee table to pour. Under other circumstances I’d wonder if she was trying to provide a view down the neck of her top, but her teasingly demure smile left no doubt.
Ms. E put a finger under my chin and turned me to look into her eyes. “I know this all must seem unusual, and maybe even a bit… ‘keenky’.” (She said the word as though trying it out, uncertain how it would sound – for a second I heard a weak trace of her old accent.) “But we both thought it would be best this way, for me to have the encouragement. It would be far worse if I got too nervous again, too scared to continue. Don’t think that I’m a …that this is my first time. I used to be… I was a very different girl before. But that was a long time ago.”
“Oh, Carmen. He doesn’t mind one bit or he’d already be out the door. Just kiss him!” She slipped down onto the cushion next to me, full wineglasses pinched between her fingers.
Ms. E did kiss me – not her usual friendly kiss, but like she had in the lift and like she had two Sundays ago: hungrily, leaning into me, catching me behind the neck to pull me back to her. I didn’t hesitate to return the enthusiasm of her kiss, to lean back against her and slide my hand up over her collarbone, along her neck and behind her ear; as her lips parted and her tongue slithered out, I teased it with mine. She began to lay back, arching her neck so I could kiss beneath her chin, pressing her chest up against me… but she broke away and pushed me back into the couch. “No. That’s so nice, Honey. But not this time.”
Mary placed her hand on my other shoulder. “Just sit back and let us do everything, Eric. We’ll tell you what to do. Put your hands down – not in your lap – put them behind your back. Now open your mouth just a little and let your tongue come out to your bottom lip. Good! Go ahead, Carmen.”
This time Ms. E pulled her legs up beneath her, shifting to a kneeling position to give her the height advantage so she could be the one to lean over me. She closed her eyes and kissed my tongue, my lips; her tongue spilled out over mine and filled my mouth. That was how she kissed – how she really kissed – with her tongue reaching for my tonsils, scraping over my teeth, wrestling my tongue into submission. She slid a leg over mine so she could straddle my thigh, her hands slipped past my shoulders for the support of the back of the couch, and as her body pressed against mine she began to rub, slowly dry-humping my thigh and smashing the corset up against my chest so hard that her breasts threatened to pop out between the halter straps. Her breath came in sharp, noisy draws through her nose, and I did my best to keep up; still I gasped when her lips and tongue pulled away and began attacking my chin and jawline. She made her way up to my ear while I caught my breath. Her breath filled my ear, and was interspersed with the occasional whimper as she continued to rub against me. Cool streaks of saliva followed her hot tongue around the outline of my ear and into the outer channel. I began to realize that it wasn’t two older women dolled up in lingerie that was kinky, but Ms. E herself: she licked my face – my cheek, the ridge surrounding my eyesocket, and down my neck – like I’d been dipped in chocolate syrup. I know I was gasping and moaning – my eyes were rolling incredulously – and it only spurred her on, but I couldn’t help it. Mary was watching Carmen, watching the reactions on my face, and grinning wildly.
Ms. E had settled into the nook where my neck met my collarbone and was suckling like a vampire, certainly planting the seed for what would be a tremendous hickey tomorrow.
“Okay, Carmen – pace yourself…”
“I’ve wanted this …for …too …long!” She nibbled and kissed me between her words, and concentrated on her lips and my skin with such intensity that I thought she really was looking for a vein beneath my skin. When I moaned, her hand reached up and thrust a pair of fingers into my mouth to pacify me.
Then she was moving lower, kissing down my collarbone while her fingers fumbled with excitement to push the uncooperative buttons on my shirt out through their holes. Mary had begun to stroke my hair while she watched Ms. E’s frantic attack on my chest, and as her fingers slipped between my hair, I noticed her nails. She had long nails, and I mean looong – they curved out nearly an inch from the tips of her fingers and ended in flat spades. They could have been fake, they were so perfect – perfect length, perfectly manicured, perfectly lacquered in the french style (though I suppose it’s as french as french kissing) – but she moved her hands confidently, like she’d had the nails her whole life. Where her fingers cut furrows through my hair, her nail tips just teased my scalp.
“Hello.” Mary tapped my shoulder to catch my attention, and with a quirky smile she leaned forward to kiss me. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her lips pressed gently to mine. It was a strange contrast to Ms. E, who was stretching down the collar of my a-shirt to extend her line of hickeys down my sternum. When Ms. E pushed the undershirt up to my neck, Mary broke the kiss to help her pull it over my head. The undershirt came over my neck well enough, but it tangled in the long sleeves of my dress shirt, and by the time Mary had pulled it down to my elbows I wasn’t just sitting on my hands – they were effectively bound behind my back. Mary pulled me back to her lips while her nails stroked along my cheeks and behind my ears.
As lovely as her soft kisses were, they couldn’t distract me from Ms. E – Mary had to pinch my chin to keep me facing her and my lips accessible. Ms E. was insatiable. She was an animal of passion – she was every bit of the self-gratifying voluptuary that I’d seen hints of in the moments before she orgasmed, those moments when my head was viced between her thighs. She’d beaten a path to my nipples and was attempting to nurse. Either she’d never heard that you have to treat a nipple nicely, or she didn’t think it applied to men (or to her): she didn’t just “play the radio”, her teeth pinched my hard little teat and rolled it back and forth; her lips pursed and formed a suction so strong I thought she might actually milk something out of me. I groaned.
Mary grabbed my chin again, ripping my agog stare from Ms. E; this time her nails tipped into my lower cheeks like claws and her green eyes flashed when they met mine. “Don’t be rude, Eric.” But her own eyes flicked down to her friend, whose tongue swirled around my nipple now like an ice cream cone. “Carmen!” Ms. E just waved her away without even looking up. Meeting my eyes again, Mary sighed, “Just give me your full attention for one kiss, so I don’t feel like a third wheel here.”