her tongue, let it dance in a man’s mouth for a while. I put my face close to hers, felt her warm skin, inhaled the sweet breath she exhaled, touched noses, moved from Eskimo kisses to tongues grazing, then deep tongue-on-tongue business.
The room’s temperature shot up a thousand degrees when my hands strayed to her breasts. She crooned, face blossomed with an illicit smile, quivered and let me know that was a dangerous spot. In no time flat I had her blouse open, her breasts out of that satin vault, tasting her softness, licking the midnight off her rising nipples. Dana made sweet babylike sounds, moaned and squirmed away from that good feeling, but I didn’t let her go. The heat was overwhelming, so I tried to stop, but she pulled me back for more nurturing.
So many things about a woman I had missed for too long: the voice, the sugary aroma, the intimacy, the conversation that came in the midnight hour. Trembles rolled through me, turned me on. More kisses. More erotic agony. She pulled me closer, adjusted my erection on the bull’s-eye, pushed her flesh into mine and matched my slow grind.
Her body was famished for what my body was craving, I could tell.
“I’m serious about who I give my body to.” She said that with an edge and looked me dead in the eye. “You seeing somebody? Let me know now.”
“Nope. I told you that. Nobody.”
“I’m not saying I expect a commitment, I ain’t that stupid, but at the same time I ain’t looking for a one-time, two-time fuck.”
“That makes two of us.”
“And I don’t want somebody walking in here starting no shit.”
“No problem.”
All of that sounded like a forthright business transaction, but in the end, after I signed on the dotted with my word as my bond, her expression softened, became innocent, let me know that she was a kitten, that her sarcasm and attitude, even her laughter, were her defense mechanisms, what enabled her to survive out in the world’s concrete jungle on her own.
She tilted her head, chewed a corner of her bottom lip, whispered in a rhetorical tone, “We can’t do this. I can’t do this. Not this quick. Getting naked too soon always leads to problems.”
Another hot and humid kiss rekindled our fire. I ached to become familiar with that New York woman in ways I could only imagine.
She groaned, “Damn, sweetie. What are you trying to do to me?”
My unrelenting, unending seduction was inside the next kiss.
Throbbing, aching, about to go crazy with these illicit feelings. Then came the sound of a woman having an orgasm. The moan started low, like a cat meowing, then grew. She praised God in the sweetest voice, called Jesus. Yet the slow ride to heaven wasn’t in my apartment. The wail of passion had crept through my wall from next door.
Listening to them rock and roll just inches away had excited me for months on end. I bet they were over there, tipsy, feeling so good that their eyes were rolling into the back of their brains, touching each other. Turned me on so much I’d sit up at night with my penis standing tall, looking at me with one eye, like Mr. Happy was pondering the origin of the universe.
Seconds later Dana had me against the wall, came to me like what she’d heard had turned her on just as much. She rubbed me, ran her hand over my crotch like she was trying to see if it was enough for her to consider changing her mind. Rubbed and rubbed and rubbed. Made wishful moans. My hand was under her skirt, fingers dancing inside a wet spot.
“Damn, Vince, why you have to go and touch me there?”
Thong panties. Very little hair down there.
While we stood in the fire we had built, lived in that heated moment of lust and indecision, we were breath to breath, eye to eye, her face saying that she didn’t know if she should trust me. And to be honest, that was a two-way street.
Dana murmured, “You have condoms?”
“We can run out and get some.”
She made crinkles in her nose. “Not even one?”
“Not one.”
Which was a lie. Magnums were on standby. I didn’t want her to think this was an every night thing, didn’t want to devalue what she was offering me.
Then she nibbled my lips and whispered, “I have a couple in my purse.”
I thought I had chosen her, but Dana had chosen me. Women always choose. Men, we