Caution: This Romantic Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Heterosexual, Oral Sex, Slow,
Desc: Romantic Sex Story: Chapter 1 - Cat, a feisty, pretty, loner finds herself falling for Evan, a quiet enigma. She thought she was ready to be in love, but will she really be able to give him her heart?
Cat sat in her spinning desk chair with her knees pulled up to her chest and her elbows propped on her knees. People told her she never looked comfortable sitting like that, but she didn't see why. Her name said a lot about her nature. While "Cat" was short for Catherine, Catherine Williams, she had the natural grace and light-footedness of felines. She was also standoffish and a little prickly at times, as well as well-groomed, adorable, and fun to watch.
She was thinking. And she was somewhat depressed; nothing major, she just had the blues. That happened to her sometimes. She was an artist, after all. Is something wrong with me? Do I repel men I would actually get along with? It certainly seems that way. Why do I only meet guys who only want to sleep with me? It's like they all just want sex; none of them want me too. It was driving her crazy. All her friends from high school were married already and all but a few of her college friends were at least in serious relationships.
It wasn't that she wanted to get married. She just wanted to fall in love. Could that really be possible? She had a reputation for being a cold-hearted bitch, but she'd earned that by exclusively dating jackass guys, most of them frat-brats, for the first three years of college. She refused to take the crap the guys dealt out and they, in turn, said some less than lovely things about her. She didn't really care what people thought of her though. The rumors didn't matter. It wasn't like they were really even rumors. She had actually done most of what people were saying about her, things just had a tendency to get dramatized.
She was twenty-one and had never had a serious relationship. She used to joke about her two date limit on guys. That wasn't far from the truth. There had been two guys who had ever made it past two dates and neither made it past number four. She admitted she was picky. That was a good thing, in her opinion. And she didn't mind seeming rude for dropping dates so quickly. Why keep them on the line if she knew it was never going to go anywhere? She thought that was rude. Her problem wasn't that she couldn't get along with the male gender. In fact, she usually got along with them quite well. They liked her. They just didn't want to fall in love with her. She had always kept several close male friends. That's just how she was.
She didn't think it was her appearance. While she didn't think she was model material, she always got enough looks, whistles, and unsolicited racy comments to annoy her. Her healthy level of self-confidence told her that she was, if not a ten, at least a seven. That always made her laugh. Her body was lean, but curvy. She was barely 5'6" and her height was all in her legs. She loved her eyes. She didn't care if her face wrinkled of if she went back to being chubby, she would still have her eyes. They were almond shaped and vivid blue-green; unless she was angry, in which case they were stormy steel blue and they were set off by dark naturally arched eyebrows. Her eyes did not need makeup, but she played them up with eyeliner and mascara in a dramatic fashion that would have looked trashy on a lot of people. It was not trashy on her. It was her signature. Her hair was the color of chocolate with sun streaks the color or caramel or honey.
Cat's mind wandered a lot. She sometimes wondered if she should take medicine for attention deficit disorder, but she feared the medication would screw with her artistic inspiration.
She was sitting in the chair trying to simultaneously think of a topic for her senior thesis, something to write in the essay to the law school she planned to attend the next fall, and something she could paint to take her mind off the other two. While those were all practical applications of her mind, and it would have been fantastic if she could have even gotten one of the three, her head had run off with her heart and was stuck on the topic of love.
Everyone told her to just wait it out, she'd find someone. No one really understood her problem though. She always seems to have some guy with her, surely she isn't lonely, her friends thought. She had all but left the dating scene during the previous spring. She always knew the guy she was with was nothing but a filler. It wasn't even like she was hoping they would turn out to mean more. She had an incredible ability to read people nearly as soon as she met them, and it rarely, if ever, failed her.
"Fuck it," she said and stood up from the desk chair. She padded across the room and flipped on the stereo. Some hard rock instrumental was in the CD deck. It fit her mood. She tried to relax and went through the motions of a few yoga poses. She did feel a little better when she was finished. She knew she really just needed a run. Or sex. But sex never meant anything and she knew it was because she never cared about the guy she was with. She was wound tight and that wasn't her nature. It was driving her crazy.
"Cat! Where are you? Are you ready?" Ande's voice made Cat jump. Ande shared an apartment with Cat and was also her best friend.
"Yeah, I'm finishing up right now. Two more minutes, seriously."
"It's not like you really need the makeup, doll" Ande said as she leaned against the bathroom doorjamb. "You look hot. The guys will be all over you."
"Haha, we'll see about that. I suppose you will too?"
Ande was bi and Cat was so free spirited she might as well have been. They joked about being lovers, but they both knew that would never happen. They loved one another as sisters and sex would just feel wrong between them.
"Sweetie, if you want to make it to that club tonight, don't tempt me now."
"Oh, come on. The club will be fun. Probably."
Ande laughed. "Hun, don't kid yourself. You're not going out of style anytime soon. Especially not while you dress like that."
Cat was wearing tight stone-washed low-rise jeans with a bit of a rip on one thigh, a black silk camisole that made her pale skin look even creamier than usual, and open toed black stilettos. Her hair was cut in layers a bit below her shoulders and was full and shiny, parted just to the right of the middle. Ande shook her head and muttered something about her looking like a magazine cover girl.
Ande wasn't about to let Cat steal the spotlight. Her hair was long and chestnut, cut in a similar style to Cat's. Her eyes were so brown they looked black in dim light. She also lined her eyes and played up her lashes. She dressed for the evening in a short black skirt with a slit up one thigh, an emerald green halter top, and strappy black sandals. She was taller than Cat and a little curvier, but they were often mistaken for sisters. Both had the same full lips and twinkling mischievous eyes.
Not even two minutes after walking through the door of the club, Ande had already gotten caught up in the mix on the dance floor. Cat preferred the bar, though she did dance occasionally. The music was mostly hard rock and was fun to listen to even when she was just sitting. She took a stool toward one end of the bar, noticing how amazingly gorgeous the bartender was. He had dark hair that was a little long and hung shaggily in his face. His eyes were the same shade of brown as Ande's. He wore jeans and a t-shirt, but couldn't have looked better. She ordered a tequila sunrise and turned to face the dance floor. The bar was too busy tonight to even try to pick him up.
She noticed that Ande seemed to have found her guy for the night; a nice choice, she had to admit. Cat laughed as she thought the guy probably assumed Ande was going home with him; the poor guy was mistaken. It wasn't that Ande and Cat didn't sleep with guys, they did, and frequently. They just tried to abstain from going home with drunk men and going home with sober men when they themselves were drunk, or any combination of the two.
Just when Cat thought she was going to have to actually go out and dance to entertain herself, a man at the other end of the bar caught her attention. He was staring at her. He looked familiar, but she couldn't place him. She thought he either recognized her too or just liked the way she looked because he began walking toward her. Walking wasn't the appropriate term. Gliding, floating, anything like that would have been better suited. The man moved with incredible grace and confidence. She thought he must be an amazing dancer. She was so enthralled with his movement that she started when she realized he had stopped in front of her.
He was tall; at least 6'2". His hair was either black or dark brown, Cat couldn't quite tell in the dim light, and long, thick, and somehow both silky and shaggy, like the bartender's. It just touched his shoulders. He resembled the bartender, only he was more striking. The bartender looked like an underwear model. This man would stand out anywhere. His eyes were crystalline blue and dark. The shade reminded her of the Pacific Ocean. They were topped with thick lashes and dark, expressive brows. His skin was tan, but not dark. His features were hard, but his full lips softened them. His body was lean and athletic but she doubted he played sports. He didn't look like the type. She suddenly realized when her eyes met his that she did not know him nor had she ever seen him before because if she had she would remember.
He didn't say a word but held out his hand to her. She had no idea where he intended to lead her, but she took it. She normally was annoyed when guys tried to act mysterious. Now, however, she was far from annoyed. She got the feeling that this was not in the least an act for him. This was just who he was.
He saw her the moment he walked into the club. She was sitting at the far end of the bar, gazing out at the dance floor. She seemed to be watching someone; he was unable to determine who. At first he thought it might be her date, but her body language suggested otherwise. Something about her glowed. Or glistened. Or sparkled. Whatever. He didn't know what made her different from every other pretty girl, but something definitely did. He hated dating. He hated shallow people, especially women, because they possessed the ability to steal his heart and smash it. He hated clubs. He thought he had made peace with being alone years ago. He hated being alone. That was why he was in the club. He liked the music they played and there were a lot of people. He had gone a few times, just to sit and watch people be people. He never intended to meet someone there. She just stood out. He was hesitant at first, because she might be just like every other girl he had ever dated, but he knew he would be furious with himself if he never saw her again.
When he noticed that her gaze had shifted from the dance floor to himself, he felt a little more courage. It was more than a little. Something about her gaze drew him toward her like she was a magnet. He didn't even consider that words might be necessary to communicate with her. He held out his hand. To his amazement and delight, when he realized that he hadn't even uttered a hello, she took it. Her hands were incredibly soft and her nails were immaculate. She wore several rings, quite a bit of jewelry all over her, in fact, but it was all tasteful and didn't seem excessive. Though he hadn't spoken with her yet, she radiated enough personality and life that, though her body was small, she could accommodate more jewelry, eyeliner, and crazier clothes than most women.
He wasn't quite sure where he intended to lead her, but since he had her hand, he thought he should think of something quickly. He noticed the tables in the balcony above the dance floor.
She followed him up the stairs into the balcony. It seemed he wanted to talk. At first she thought he would want to dance. Maybe later. She didn't really care where he took her. She was completely intrigued by this enigma of a man.
"Evan" he stated.
"Cat" she replied. She was amazed at how comfortable she was with him. Although they didn't know one another at all, she was entirely at ease and the lack of conversation was not at all awkward.
He had stopped in front of a tiny café table by the glass panel window. She had never been up in the balcony and the view of downtown was breathtaking. He guided her into one of the chairs and he sat down facing her without letting go of her hand. She smiled at him, entirely genuinely, and thought she saw his eyes light up. Surely not, she told herself. He can't like me that much. Not yet.
She wasn't sure why she thought that. After all, she liked him more than she could fathom and for no certain reason she could figure out. They seemed to have some sort of crazy deep connection. It was like they completely understood one another. What in hell was in that tequila sunrise?
"Forgive me" he muttered, and it took Cat a moment to comprehend what he said for no sooner than the words left his mouth, he leaned across the table and cupped the side of her face with one hand and kissed her.
She was so shocked at first she opened her eyes and stared at him, but didn't pull back. His eyes were open a bit, to catch her expression, she supposed, but as soon as her body relaxed he closed them. She did the same. She had never felt a kiss like that before. In fact, it was as if she had never been kissed ever before. He pressed his soft lips so hard into hers, it made her lightheaded. Soon, she felt his pressure ease and his lips part. She parted her lips as well and accepted his tongue. She sucked a quickly on his tongue, slid hers into his mouth, and nipped his lower lip. She swore she felt him swoon. He pulled back gently, but not so far she couldn't feel his hot breath on her cheek. He pressed his lips to hers again, light and sweetly this time.
Evan stood up, even in the dim light she could see his face was flushed. She smiled at him again. He leaned in close to her and whispered, his hot breath on her ear and neck made her shiver, "the downtown art gallery, nine p.m. tomorrow." He still had her hand in his from when he had first taken it at the bar. He lifted it to his mouth, lightly kissed it, and let it slide from his. Then he disappeared down the stairs and through the crowd with that captivating ease of motion that she had noticed when he first approached her.
Cat was smitten. And perplexed. He was an enigma; she had not been wrong in that assumption. However, she was one too. She had wanted to fall in love for so long. Maybe this was her chance.