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Play it calm, play it cool. But who was I kidding? Cool had left the building the moment I'd met Arnold.
"Would love to do it again sometime?" I texted back, each letter punctuated with a flutter in my belly.
"Definitely!" The reply came quickly, sending a jolt of excitement through me. Maybe this clumsy connection could turn into something real. A goofy giggle escaped me. Who'd have thought? A client turned meet-awkward.
"Maybe without the spilled coffee next time." I sent the message with a wry smile.
"Or maybe with. Adds character ;)" The wink face he added made my pulse race. I had a feeling there was an inner freak in there waiting to come out. I'd bring it out of him. I wonder what he'd do if I sat on his face and left a slug trail down it. He'd probably be into it.
"Maybe next time... your house?" I replied, my lip between my teeth as I sucked in a breath.
"Looking forward to it. Text me a date and time when you're ready." His message was simple.
I flopped back against the pillows, my body still thrumming with energy. My mind flitted from our texts to the memory of his shy smile and the softness in his eyes. This felt different. Real.
“Ummmm, let’s say next Saturday, 10 am?” My thumb hit send, and I waited with bated breath.
“Great. Let’s meet at DNF; we can walk to my place from there.”
I glanced at the clock. Time to wind down, to try and quiet the buzz under my skin. Showering sounded nice. I couldn't take it anymore—the itch, the burn, the crackling static of desire under my skin. I bolted to the bathroom and cranked the faucet. Steam billowed like a fog machine at a cheesy club. Stripped down in record time, I stepped into the shower, the spray hitting me like a squirting lush.
"Arnie..." The word slipped out as water sluiced over my curves. My hands roamed, slick and urgent. My fingers found the blooming meat butterfly between my thighs. It pulsed, hungry for touch.
Images of him swam behind my eyelids—those blue eyes clouded with something like hunger, his lanky form a question mark that begged answering. A shiver racked me. I traced the hard little nubbin, imagining it was him. He was learning, exploring, and fumbling his way to my pleasure.
My mind painted every awkward, adorable move he'd make, what his fingers would feel like, rough and unsure against my maidenhood, how his breath would hitch when I guided him. The unsure look he'd give as I'd grab his pecker and push it against the open gash, coaxing it inside like a turtle seeking its shell.
"Ah!" The sound echoed off the tile as cream poured from the tunnel between my legs. My knees went weak; my back hit the wall. Water and heat enveloped me as I chased the high. One hand braced against cold tile, the other a blur as I worked that little puckered peak into a mash of sensitive nerves.
"Please, please, please." Not sure if I was begging the image of him or my own body. Didn't matter. The wave crested, broke, and crashed through me. I saw stars. My legs gave, and I slid down to the shower floor, the water still raining down on me. My heart fluttered as the water washed my spunk down the drain.
That rush, that crazy high—it was all Arnold in my head. His clumsy charm, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Wondering if it would be this good in real life, I pushed off the floor and turned off the water with a squeak of the tap. The air hit me, cooler now, goosebumps rising on my skin.
I grabbed a towel, fluffed and white, from the rack and wrapped it around myself. My body still hummed with desire, as if one cunny session wasn't enough. Sighing, I wiped the fog off the mirror and looked at myself. I looked a mess, but the smile that inadvertently played on my lips was soft and joyful.
I tossed the wet fabric aside as I walked into my room, its fluffiness a brief comfort. Silk robe on, I dove into the sea of my bed, the day's weight lifting off my shoulders. The sheet whispered against my skin, cool and inviting.
My eyelids grew heavy, and sleep claimed me even as my body wanted one more round.
