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Coffeehouse Comfort

Category: Lesbian Sex
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The weatherman missed the mark again. Sitting in his cozy tv studio this morning while I readied myself for another day at the office, he claimed that today the city would see the mid 50’s and its fair share of sunshine. In other words, it was supposed to be a gorgeous autumn day. That’s the last time I listen to him. I’ll be damned if it was more than 35 degrees in the city this evening. The wind picked up again, a cold hand sliding over my face and through my hair on its journey through the streets.

I sighed, pulled the collar of my well-worn pea coat up a little higher, bowed my head down a little lower and squared myself against winter’s early arrival. As I passed another shop window, my slender figure was bathed in warm light for a fleeting second. “Just another block to go,” I reassured myself and quickened my pace. The downtown streets had emptied quite a bit since the workday ended, its daytime inhabitants scrambling for the comfort of home and loved ones. As the sun finally gave up its fight and disappeared somewhere behind me, I turned the corner and opened the door to my home away from home, my favorite café. The gust of warm air and the strong, sweet aromas that greeted me when I entered the shop were both comforting and compelling, luring me ever inward, away from the cold concrete of the streets and towards the supple leather of my usual seat near the window.

I used to come here maybe once a week after work, sometimes with friends, but usually alone. It got me out of the stifling quiet of my apartment and gave me a break from cooking dinners for one. The only drawback here is the persistence of the local males. For some reason, guys around here just can’t comprehend why ‘such a cute young thing’, as they insist on calling me, would want to come all the way down here and sit by herself. They think that obviously I must just be waiting for a man to find me here amongst the cappuccinos and pastries and sweep me off my feet. Right. Wonder what they’d say if they knew that it wasn’t a man I was looking for…but a woman. I had been in a serious relationship that ended about 6 months ago, and since then I just hadn’t found another woman I was interested in.

Until about two months ago.

It had been another long day at work, and I didn’t feel up to cooking dinner for myself, so I walked down to the cafe and slid into my usual table, lost in thought. Who knows how long I sat unmoving, distracted by the world outside my window.

“Umm…excuse me? Miss?” I was pulled from my daze by a soft voice. I looked up hurriedly, carelessly. I suppose I had a startled look about me because she apologized for disturbing me. I guess she had tried to get my attention two or three times before I finally heard her. My eyes met hers…and my heart stopped beating in my chest.

This was most definitely not my normal server.

My usual waiter was an openly gay 22-year old guy named Erik. He had me pegged as a lesbian the first time he waited on me, although I’m far from obvious to most people. I’ve become used to being greeted by his “Hey girl!” over the months. Such a friendly, outgoing guy. He’s been good to talk to, especially during my break-up, and to my surprise we’ve confided in each other quite a bit over the months.

But this, this was most definitely not Erik. After a moment of staring stupidly, I came to my senses and smiled at the beauty before me. Her hair was pulled back in a careful ponytail, but a few strands had managed to escape their imprisonment, instead hanging down in front, framing her olive-skinned face. I turned into a schoolgirl in her gaze, my cool demeanor disintegrating in record time, my complex thought processes grinding to a halt, unable to do anything but smile a shy smile back and stare.

“What can I get for you this evening?” she had asked me, but I was far too caught up in the surprise of seeing someone so gorgeous in this place to respond immediately. She had such an easy, unassuming smile on her face. Genuine…you can always tell a genuine smile because they smile with their eyes as well as their mouth. And god her eyes…a penetrating blue with flecks of gold and gray, a miniature Jackson Pollack peering at me.

My heart skipped a beat, and somehow I found my voice, placing my usual order with all of the charm and politeness I could muster. Honestly I was so intimidated that I was lucky my voice didn’t squeak or catch in my throat halfway through. ‘Cos that would have been just my luck.

I watched her walk away, I watched her as she tended to her other customers, never too confident in her actions, but always pleasant. First night jitters I guess. I’m sure she’ll find that the customers here, at least the regulars, are pretty laidback…no need to worry about any of us. Someone a few tables away was giving her some flak for some trivial thing or another (must have been a new customer, too), and even with my back turned I could hear her voice falter a little in her dealings with them. As she walked back by my table on her way to the back, I leaned out and touched her lightly on the arm, an action that unexpectedly sent shockwaves rolling under my skin from my fingertip on up.

“Don’t let them get to you…you’re doing fine,” I reassured her with a warm smile.

“Thanks…I really appreciate it. It’s my first night. You can probably tell, huh.”

“Ha…maybe a little. But really, don’t worry about it, k?”

That at least got a little grin out of her before she went back to her duties. The rest of the night seemed to go pretty smoothly for her. When I got up to leave the warmth of the café for the cold of the streets, she caught my eye from the other side of the room.

“Thank you!” she mouthed silently.

I nodded my head in her direction on my way out the door, but as soon as my back was turned a huge grin spread over my face from ear to ear. It was the kind of mood that made you forget you were tired and made you want to turn cartwheels down the street. Well, I never could do a cartwheel, so I settled for a few skips on my way back home…something to let out that excitement and energy I’d just so unexpectedly found. The cold didn’t phase me. Neither did the late hour. I returned home lost in thought with dreams in my eyes.

Since then I’ve found myself returning to that place more and more often, usually three times a week now. It can’t be helped. I won’t even pretend I came here for the food. It was her. Of course it was her. Every time after that first night, she has always smiled at me when I walk in, said hi, or has come over to see what’s new with me. Of course it was usually Erik that waited on me, but a few times she has filled in for him when he was out sick, and those nights were fantastic.

At one point along the way, I was sitting at my usual table, writing in my notebook and stealing glances of her every time I could. I’ve found ways to be creative with my glances. Using the window to watch her reflection. To look without seeming to look. Apparently I wasn’t as subtle as I had thought myself to be. One night I turned to find Erik staring at me, a knowing grin spreading slowly across his face. You could practically see that light bulb, like the kind they use in the cartoons, come to life over his head. I could feel his eyes studying me. And then…slowly, methodically, torturously…he swung his gaze over at her as she worked, exactly where my eyes had been just seconds before. The only gesture he made to let me know that he had me all figured out was a sly little wink. Great. I was sure that he would be the kind to tease me endlessly about my little crush. It felt like I’d been caught cheating on a test. Dread filled my stomach, my throat…it was heavy in my mouth. Wonder if anyone would notice if I crawled under my table to hide.

Well as it turned out, that night happened to be a slow one, and when Erik slid into the seat across from me to talk and pass the time, I must have looked like a deer caught in the headlights. That same smile. That smug, knowing smile. It was in his eyes, too. And there she was, following right behind him, sliding gracefully into the leather seat across from me.

So, we talked.

And talked.

And talked.

Erik kept getting up to go take care of his one or two remaining customers (and hers, too), leaving us alone together to chat and get to know each other. I’ve got to hand it to him…he set us up right from the beginning, always bending over backwards to make sure that she and I got some uninterrupted time together almost every time I walked in the door. Wasn’t even superficial chatter, either…I don’t have much patience for such things. No topic taboo, anyone who happened by my table when she was with me would have overheard a debate on politics and the latest news out of D.C., a discussion on the finer points of world religions, or even, on occasion, one of us talking about our own past. She knew I was gay, she knew about my family, my work. Several times we lost ourselves in conversation, forgetting that we were two girls in a mediocre coffee shop, forgetting the millions of things we each had on our to-do list, forgetting our responsibilities to the world…we were simply there. Talking, learning.

And the things I noticed about her as time went on. When she laughed, she had a way of rolling her eyes that made me laugh in response. When she was thinking, she had a way of pulling at the loose strands of hair that hung in her face. When she was being playful, she had this mischievous little grin that was to die for, that made my heart pound a little harder in my chest and created a little flutter in my stomach. And when she was happy, I got to see that smile I saw when I pulled her aside on her first night of work. The genuine one, the one where she smiles with her eyes.

Since I usually dine alone, I always bring one of two things with me: either my little notebook or a good book to read. Of course when I was lucky enough to have her or Erik sit down with me, these two things were put away, but in the meantime, they kept me occupied (and they kept me from staring too hard). But usually any patron of this place could find me alone at my table near the window, scribbling notes (or if the mood hadn’t hit me that night, lost in a book). More and more over those past two months, my writings revolved around her. It’s a very strange feeling, writing about someone who was there in the same room with you yet completely unaware of your observation and your thoughts. I wrote often. I wrote of my attraction to her, and increasingly of my feelings for her. I wrote all that I felt for her and all that I wanted to do with her. All that I wanted to do to her. She’s asked me a few times what I was always working on, and all I could manage was a sly grin and a “nothing much” in response. Hard to say if I would ever actually let her see all of these things, all of my thoughts. If I would ever give her an invitation to my every personal thought. Maybe. Then she would know that she was my muse.

And that brings us to tonight. Tonight, just like every other night, the little bell above the door announced my entry into the warmth of the eatery. A bevy of “hey’s” and “how’s it going’s” greeted me as I walked to my table. Erik rushed over to me as soon as he saw me. He was so excited…he had that look on his face that little kids get on Christmas morning. Instead of rattling off whatever was on his mind, he simply handed me a note and walked on by, still smiling, still giggling, still looking like he was ready to start skipping through the café at any moment.

A little perplexed, I opened up the note. As my eyes took in every word he had scribbled down on the back of the receipt, my fingers began to shake and my knees went a little weak. Scrawled in a hurried hand was: “She’s been talking about you a lot you know—getting giggly, blushing when I teased her about you. Just like you do every time I tease you about her! Just thought you should know!”

I’m not sure how I ended up at my table. I certainly don’t remember walking after I read his note. Everything else just kind of went away for a second. The blood rushed in my ears, drowning out the noise of the café. My vision blurred, but every word persisted in my head. There was only me and that note.

The rest of the evening ran much like the others. I wrote, I ate, I talked with my friends. But interactions took on a whole new meaning in this new light. Little things, little smiles, little glances, little smirks, all could be construed as innocent, as simple, black and white, but tonight they were a million shades and they were one. Tonight anything was possible.

Now growing up, my parents taught me to be polite. To be helpful. To be chivalrous. I hold the door open for strangers; I say “bless you” when people sneeze. And when the gorgeous woman I’m interested in complained of having too much to carry home at the end of the night when her shift was over, naturally I offered to help ease her burden. I guess she had stopped by the grocery store on her way to work and didn’t have time to stop by her apartment first. One of her coworkers had helped her get them here, but she didn’t have the strength after a long night’s work to walk all the way home weighed down.

And so it happened that I walked her home that night. We were two girls alone in the glow of the streetlamps, talking and laughing on our way. That night there was no one in the world but us, no conversation but ours, no road but the one under our feet. The world didn’t exist outside of our light.

I noticed the way her hair bounced with every step. I noticed the way her giggles echoed off the deserted buildings. And I noticed the way she walked close to me, too close to be accidental. Our arms brushed against each other again and again, but neither of us made to move away to get more space for ourselves. Instead we let our space meet. We let it coexist. Mingle. I loved it. The thick material of our coats managed to keep out the cold, but the electricity of her touch still found its way through to my skin. Her spark coursed through my body, robbing me of my breath but leaving me with a smile. I wanted her. I wanted to hold her hand. I wanted to stop her in her tracks and kiss her, to feel my lips against hers, to feel our bodies pressed together. I wanted her heat.

Our conversation flowed from one subject to another as we walked. Soon, however, we ended up talking about ex’s. We’d broached the subject before, during one of our many talks in the café, but superficially, neither of us coming away knowing much more than that the other was single. So as we walked I told her about my last relationship and how it met its demise. In no way was I prepared for her response.

“You know, we all go through things for a reason. They shape us, make us who we are, for better or for worse. At least that’s how I see it. But really…it’s your ex’s loss. She should have known better than to let someone as sweet as you get away.”

I colored. My heart leapt into my throat. My tummy fluttered deliciously. But I couldn’t think of one coherent, intelligent thing to say in response…so I didn’t. I kept silent. I didn’t have to speak—my body gave me away. One look at me and she saw my little grin and my red ears and cheeks. She smiled that mischievous little smile that I’ve come to adore, and we walked on silently. The world was gone. There was only me and her, my breath and her breath, the touching of our arms beneath our coats. And the heartbeats. Loud. Fast. Clear. Incessant.

As we approached her doorstep, the light of the streetlamp illuminated her statuesque frame for a fleeting second. I was struck again by her captivating beauty. Her strong, confident walk. Her glowing skin. Her attentive eyes. The way she moved with a grace I simply couldn’t fathom. Before we moved out from beneath the light into the dark of the night again, I couldn’t help but notice how flushed her cheeks were. And I wondered…was her mind wandering to the same places as mine? She glanced askew at me. She caught me, lost completely in her brilliance. No excuses…all I could do was smile back at her as we took the last few steps towards her door.

I took the bag she had been carrying all this way for her now while she got out her keys and opened the door to her place. Now with both loads filling my arms, I followed her clumsily to the kitchen, blind to my surroundings, mesmerized by the vision of her. Her hips swayed temptingly before me, in an almost hypnotic way.

The apartment was cozy, the kind that seemed like it would make a nice retreat from the chaos of modern living. Soft lighting, which I was thankful for…don’t know if I could have handled walking in to a place lit up like a 7-11 at this time of night. When I had deposited the bags on the kitchen counter, my aching muscles thanked me for the relief.

“Do you want some hot chocolate? To warm you up?”

Sounded perfect to me. Within minutes we were sitting side by side on the barstools in her kitchen, relaxing and warming our bodies sip by sip. There were some Netflix dvds sitting on the counter that I thumbed through, as much to give my hands something to do as to check out what kind of films she was into. One of the sleeves she happened to have sitting on the counter was “Lost and Delirious,” something I hadn’t seen in years but had always liked.

“Oh this is a good one!” I said, not particularly expecting an answer, just kind of talking as I read. At least she has good taste in films, I thought.

“You wanna hang out for awhile and watch it with me? I get bored watching movies alone all the time…I’ll be happy for the company.”

Despite myself, I couldn’t help but think “god it’s late.” She must have read it in my face.

“Oh god I’m sorry, I forgot how late it is! I’m so used to staying up and unwinding after work that I forget other people don’t always keep the same schedule I do. I’m sure you’re ready to get home.”

Was that disappointment I heard in her voice? “Actually, I’d love to stay for a while. I haven’t seen this movie in forever…it’s just…well…even better that I’ll have someone to watch it with.”

I would have jumped at the chance to watch “Barney” if she’d asked, as long as it meant a few more minutes around her. My only request, I told her, was another cup of hot chocolate. The relief and excitement on her face was unmistakable. It delighted me to no end to know that I was the one who put that captivating smile on her face tonight.

She told me to get the movie started while she got out of her work clothes. I must have blushed again because she grinned—that mischievous grin—and left the room. My heart pounded in my chest as I did what she had asked and sat down on the loveseat. In a few moments she came gliding into the room wearing jeans and a tank top. The tight fit of the tank accentuated her feminine curves and gave me a teasing hint of her cleavage. The sight of her bare arms and more of that gorgeous skin made my temperature rise, and the denim of her jeans clung to her in all the right ways.

Without missing a beat, she snatched the remote and sat down on the loveseat next to me, close, closer than most people would sit. But neither of us seemed to mind…we stayed put, preferring the mutual space in the middle. The movie started, and we watched attentively, laughing together, making comments to one another. Anyone could see that we were enjoying ourselves, but there was an undeniable tension in the air…a suspense. No more than 20 minutes into the film I began to shiver. The temperature inside the apartment had dropped considerably since we had first arrived. Noticing my discomfort, she asked me if I wanted a blanket, saying that she was cold, too…not too hard to believe given her outfit. She ran off down the hall and returned seconds later, blanket in hand.

“Here…we can share this.”

I laughed to myself…oh my god, she’s bold. She sat back down next to me and arranged the blanket on top of us. Of course, it wasn’t quite big enough, so she took the opportunity to close the gap between us. And there we were—together in the center of the couch, our bodies finally together and our body heat combined.

Note: later I would find out that she had intentionally turned down the air in the apartment when she had gone to change clothes, hoping for the chance to get close to me on the couch. Clever girl.

I’m not known for my risk-taking…never have been, never will be. But that night I silenced the angel on my shoulder, the one that always told me to bite my tongue, to be cautious. The voice of my body was stronger and more insistent. So I took a deep breath, peeked at the stunning woman beside me out of the corner of my eyes, and I reached for her hand. Soft, warm and waiting. I traced her hand and her fingers with my own. I learned the shape of them, the character of them before lacing my fingers through hers. She squeezed my hand and leaned in close to lay her head on my shoulder. Her weight on my body was bliss, and the way her breasts rubbed along my side as she inhaled and exhaled was electrifying. So close. She moaned softly, practically purring.

It wasn’t until she turned to look up at me that I finally recognized the same desire in her eyes that I felt so acutely myself. Any reservation, any other words of advice from the angel on my shoulder were immediately banished. In the next moment my fingers were lightly on her cheek, her chin, her eyelashes. When my fingers traced the lines of her jaw, I could feel her blood racing in her veins. She glowed beneath my touch. Her glance lowered quickly, almost subconsciously to my lips…once…twice. Wanting. Ever the tease, I leaned in slowly until my lips were scarcely an inch from hers. She inhaled sharply in anticipation, but I made her wait another agonizing moment before finally giving in. The meeting of our lips set off a jolt in both of us. It’s almost as if it electrified the whole apartment…the air felt charged with our attraction. Another kiss. Full. Warm. Wet. Inviting. My tummy fluttered again.

As I breathed in the intoxicating smell of her, another kiss brought us together, quickly becoming more passionate and more heated than any of the ones before. Our mouths parted, our tongues touched. Shivers coursed through my body, every bit of it, when I felt the tip of her tongue lick the shape of my lips. In the meantime, our bodies had come closer together, almost without our realizing it—my hands were on her back, on her arms, in her hair, around her neck—everywhere softness, everywhere electric…a current closing the circuit between us.

She shifted in order to kiss me more fully, her hands running up from my waist, on top of my shirt, and for a second they ran lightly over my breasts, eliciting a soft moan from my lips. Although my head was swimming from our frenzy of kisses, that didn’t stop me from feeling a button being undone on my shirt…and another…and another. When I pulled back from our kiss, I saw that mischievous grin on her face. Both of us breathing hard, she looked me directly in the eyes as she slowly continued to undo my top, revealing my black bra and my toned stomach before removing my shirt completely. Another grin appeared on her face when she drank in the look of my lean frame, unprotected in the cool of the apartment.

Not to be outdone, I turned the tables and took charge, pushing her playfully back against the cushion of the loveseat, kissing her full lips, kissing her jaw, kissing her neck, where it’s the softest and most sensitive. I covered her skin with light kisses, the kind that give you chills, before tracing the line of her jaw. When I reached her ears, I took advantage of their natural sensuality and sensitivity, lightly moaning into them so I could feel her body respond. My hands were on her tummy, her sides, grabbing at her shirt, slowly pulling it over her head and tossing it to the floor alongside mine.

The flickering light from our forgotten movie cast a surreal glow to our scene on the couch. It added a softness to her feminine curves. For a moment we both sat back a little, stunned, drinking each other in. Breathing hard.

Of course she was the first to break the stare. She grabbed my hand feverishly and pulled me off the couch and down the hall towards the bedroom, I could only assume. I followed in a daze the trail blazed ahead of me. The curve of her ass in those jeans no more than a foot or two in front of me would have been hypnotic enough on its own. But as we marched down the hall, she turned her head to look over her shoulder at me. That same playful, mischievous grin on her face. I had to bite my lip and clench my fists to keep from pinning her to the wall right then (and if she had turned her head one more time I would have…I know it). I bit my lip to keep my composure, or what was left of it, as a chill coursed through my body and between my legs.

When we reached the edge of the bed, she spun around quickly, insistent, and she kissed me hard on the mouth, her tongue passing between my lips to touch my own. I moaned into her mouth. My hands started at her neck and gently slid down to her chest, lightly grazing her nipples. She inhaled sharply, and I reached around to hold her to me as we kissed again, passionately.

I couldn’t believe how soft and warm she was, how alive, how electric—it made me want to keep our bodies joined constantly—to be apart seemed to me to be almost sinful, blasphemous to her beauty. I closed my eyes and was lost in her.

We breathed together, standing there. My leg between hers, hers between mine, our hands slid over each others backs, our bras fell simultaneously to the floor. We breathed together, our breasts against one another, rising and falling in rhythm. We were two women exposed in the cold but completely unaware of anything outside our circle. All we could see was each other. We filled our eyes. We filled our minds. We filled our hands and arms with each other.

Staring at her directly in the eyes, I reached down to undo the buttons on her jeans. I did it slowly, I wanted to be cruel. But as she slid them down I had to smile because she had suddenly taken back all the power in our little play…she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

“My god…you’re beautiful…” is all I managed to say about the sexy, gorgeous woman poised before me. More kisses. Then we were falling. She pushed, and we tumbled backwards onto her bed. On my back, I felt her weight come down on top of me. It was delicious, that feeling, that pressing. Her hair tickled my face, her thigh came down between my thighs, our lips found each other again.

A maze of kisses wet on my cheek, my ear, my neck. She paused to kiss me hard, bruising my tender skin, marking me as hers. I felt the warmth of her tongue as it electrified my skin, as it slid down my right arm, down to my hand. I watched her every move, but when she took my thumb into her mouth, I was forced to close my eyes…the pleasure was so intense I couldn’t even look.

When I opened them again, I caught the glow of the moon as it came through the window and splashed across her breasts. But it was only a fleeting glimpse, for in the next moment she was directly above me, her mouth on my nipple, her hand attending to the other one. A mixture of twisting, biting, sucking and flicking made it nearly impossible for me to be patient. I was too turned on to be quiet, and as she continued her ministrations, my moans became louder and louder. She had me squirming, wanting, wet and pleading for release.

“Please…oh…please….” I whispered as I put my arms around her back, pulling her in to me while she kissed down the length of my body. Finally she moved back, sitting up, her hair hanging temptingly in her face. She tugged at my belt, and impatiently I moved to help her get them out of the way. But she wouldn’t let me rush her…she was doing this her way. To make her point, she tugged my pants down at an excruciatingly slow speed. Past my thighs. My knees. At every point she placed a kiss. My calves. My ankles. More kisses, wet promises of things to come. Finally my legs were free. Her kisses started again, this time on the other leg, and she worked her way up like she had worked her way down…one scorching, aching kiss at a time.

By the time her lips had reached the seam of my little black panties, I was almost crazy with desire. From there she traced the edge with her tongue, to the top of my thigh, around the waistline, and down the other side. I moaned with impatience, and I think she delighted in that. Finally, mercifully, after what seemed like an eternity, I felt her fingers on my legs, sliding up to my hips, under the cloth and pulling them down and off. She left me naked underneath her. The wait was over, and sitting there between my legs, the look in her eyes betrayed her cool exterior…I could see that she was aching as much as I was. She looked into my eyes one last time as she extended her tongue and made one long lick from the back to the front.

“Mmmmm…” She moaned into me as her tongue found my clit, tentatively at first, before she enveloped it with her warmth. As she did so her hand slid up my inner thigh and reached for my pussy, slowly, teasing, rubbing along the outside before suddenly dipping a finger inside. I let out a cry, and within seconds she had slipped in another finger.

Her thumb replaced her tongue on my clit, exerting a constant pressure that was delicious, and I felt the wetness of her mouth return to my nipples. Biting, sucking, licking, like she had just done to my clit seconds before. I couldn’t keep my eyes open or my mouth closed…I was so turned on. Kisses on my neck, my shoulders, my jaw. As our rhythm quickened, her fingers sliding in and out, in and out, she adjusted her angle and found my g-spot like an expert.

“Oh god…ohhhh….mmmmm…”

Kissing me again and leaning toward my ear as she pumped away with her hand, she whispered, “Come for me.” That voice…it was so soft, so feminine that it caressed my ears. But there was a hard, confident edge in it that commanded me, willed me to obey.

I could feel it rising, starting in my stomach. My back had long ago arched under her attentions. My legs squirmed beneath her, waiting. She kissed me again, hard, her warm tongue playing on my eager lips.

And I was there. Every muscle in my body contracted simultaneously at her command. My muscles gripped her fingers inside me, my toes tensed, my heart stopped its beating for a moment. In that instant I was suspended in perfect pleasure and release.

My whole body shuddered, and I moaned into her mouth. The air rushed out of my lungs as my body collapsed in her arms. If breathing wasn’t automatic, I wouldn’t have thought to do it at that moment in time. All of my attention was focused on the waves of pleasure that rolled over my body and rippled under my skin.

The moments that followed passed by in a blur. I remember soft kisses, soothing caresses. We held each other close, catching our breaths. The apartment was still cold, but neither of us felt it. We flourished in our shared heat. Alive. I grew in it, like the warmth of the sun brings the bud from the ground, I felt like I woke up. It was because of her, and I knew what I had to do.

“I have a confession,” I said.

“I wanna hear it!”

So I made my confession to her as we lay naked before each other in the sanctuary of her bed. I told her how I wrote about her. In the little notebook I always carried. I told her how she occupied my mind, how she haunted my thoughts like a ghost, and how I had to write about her to free myself.

As she listened I could see a softening of her features, a clearing in her eyes. The moonlight elucidated the curve of her jaw and the outline of her bare shoulder. When the words of my confession had left my mouth and hung densely in the air between us, she looked directly into my eyes, a look so powerful and so raw it pierced right through to my very center. She kissed me square on the lips, not hard, in fact very soft, very feminine, but with a passion all its own. It was the kind of kiss that makes you drunk. My head was swimming. I felt weightless.

And now it was my turn…to do what I had wanted to do these past months.

How soft she was. I let my hands trace the outline of her face. She leaned her head back, and I traced the vertical line from her chin, over the ridges of her throat, down to the hollow where her neck joined the collarbone—the line that gives the human form its stunning symmetry. I placed a kiss on her neck, a soft kiss for the softest spot on a woman. That’s one of the most intimate places on the human body. So sad that it’s so often overlooked. It’s so close, right there next to the ear. My mouth next to her ear, and my ear next to her mouth. Every breath, every gasp, every whisper is shared. We breathed together. The warmth of my breath on her ear made her shudder beneath me.

I let me fingers trace down her arm to her hand to touch and explore. Slowly. Sensually. Hands are everything. To the blind, they’re their entire world. For most people, you live with them, you eat, drink, make your living with them. They are you. Rough, calloused, soft, supple, small, frail, thick, robust, cool, hot…they are you. To give those up to someone, to put all of your concentration into those two extensions of yourself, it’s commanding…it’s persuasive. And when you take into consideration how many nerve endings are in the human hand…

My kisses left her neck and joined my fingers at her hands. I kissed her palms, softly, kissed her fingertips, and wrapped my mouth around each one in turn, touching and teasing every last nerve. I could feel her, urging me on, moaning and squirming. I felt her giving herself, making herself vulnerable, and I could feel myself doing the same. We were both unprotected in that moment, our defenses down.

I brought the same attention to her breasts, kissing, licking, biting, holding them until I felt her hands in my hair, urging me downward. Not to be rushed, I worshipped her hips, her thighs, her legs, her feet, her toes, all in turn, teasing and licking, letting my hair tickle her every part, her every nerve. Her moans grew louder and louder, her fingertips digging into my shoulders.

“Please…god….please…” she begged.

I looked her in the eyes as I settled my face between her legs and licked her wetness, tasting her, sweet. My tongue licked every inch, every fold, lavishing attention on every part of her before finally settling my attention on her clit. I slowly, delicately took it into my mouth. She arched her back as we settled into a rhythm. Our rhythm. Incessant. I lost myself between her smooth thighs, listening to her chorus of oooohs and mmmmms and gods. I felt her, I watched her, the rise and fall of her breasts, her legs moving, her hips bucking, grinding my face into her even harder. Her cries filled the room, her hands were in my hair. She was so close.

And then it happened. She clinched her fists in my hair as her thighs closed around me, while her body shook from head to toe from her powerful orgasm.

While her body recovered, I kissed and licked her tenderly, making a trail upwards, leaving delicate kisses on her stomach, on the skin beneath her breasts, her neck, her lips, her eyelids. All the softest spots on a woman. When our bodies were equal, when we were once more together at the head of the bed, she reached out and put her arm around me, burying her head in my neck. Even though I couldn’t see it, I could feel her smile. Not one of her mischievous ones…the ones that got us here in the first place. This was subdued. Personal. Honest. It was the honesty of it that affected me, that forced me to bow my head in response and smile my own smile into the folds of her neck.

Exhaustion crept upon us like a fog, seeping into our bones, permeating every muscle, every cell, slowing our frenzy. We laid back in the bed, hair tousled, legs jumbled, hands intertwined together as I held her, as I had wanted to hold her all this time. I held her hand in my hand, running my fingers lightly over its curves, reveling in the softness, wondering what these hands have seen in their lifetime and how I came to be part of their story. I held them and smiled secretly to myself.

“Did you write about that?” she asked dreamily as she gave in to the increasing weight of her eyelids and drifted into sleep. I smiled. “I couldn’t have done you justice with words,” I whispered, trying not to wake her. I kissed her forehead and closed my eyes.

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