Chapter 1: Sylvia

“You know,” said Sylvia, “when you invited me here to eat take-out, I pictured pizza.”

“Well, you’ve had me as a guest in your apartment; I thought I should reciprocate. Did you like the pancit?” Greg gestured for her to stay seated as he rose to clear.

“Delicious. I’d never had it before. The chicken was great, too.” She raised her voice a little to carry into the kitchen. It wasn’t really necessary.

“Add Filipino to your list of possible restaurant types. Now, this isn’t ethnically pure; but would you like a little Sauterne to polish off your meal?” He was carrying the bottle and two glasses from his last trip into the kitchen

“Half a glass.”

“Half a glass it is. I know you’re into moderation.” He poured her half glass and a little more than that into his. He remained standing.

“That tastes good. Aren’t you going to have some?” She looked at him, and saw that he was standing with his arms open.

“Soon. Stand up.” She did. The kiss was sweet. He didn’t press firmly or demand anything. He continued, “Your mouth is warm. It tastes of wine, and spice, and you.”

“Did you plan to get me drunk to kiss me? You didn’t need to.” She was holding him around the waist as loosely as he was holding her.

He bent down to give her another kiss. “No. I planned to kiss you to get me drunk. It’s starting to work.”

Sylvia could feel the beginning of an erection against her hip. Some boys she had gone with would have pressed it into her groin to make sure she’d notice it. Others, especially earlier, would have been so embarrassed that they would try to hide it. Greg let it stay there. One of the advantages of dating an older man, one of the advantages, for that matter, of being an adult college graduate herself, was that he treated his desire with maturity.

Greg kissed her once more, and then stepped away. He carried the wine glasses over to the coffee table in front of the sofa. He’d prepared the entire apartment for this date. The light focused on the dining table was bright. It cast enough light on the sofa and coffee table so that he wasn’t inviting her into a dark nook. Even so, it wasn’t enough to read by.

She took the suggested seat. He punched a button on the entertainment center on his way to pick up the rest of the clutter on the dining table. Quiet music filled the room. It was a piano piece, maybe Chopin. She asked when he settled beside her.

“This piece, yes. I’ve made a selection: classical, but nothing that demands attention.” He sipped from his glass before kissing her again. This time, she tasted the wine on his tongue.

Greg liked Sylvia as a person. He wanted the relationship to go further, but he wanted a relationship. He was quite certain that grabbing her would end the relationship. He was equally certain that she expected him to take the lead. He took her face in both hands, and worked at the kiss. Her tongue met his. When he moved them apart, she was breathing heavily. He caught his own breath while staring into her eyes. She looked down. He let go of her face and leaned back on the sofa with his arm behind her.

When she settled back against that arm, he hugged her. He kissed her temple and then her ear. She turned so that the kisses were mouth-to-mouth. He hugged her with his right arm and gently held her face with his left hand. As the kiss continued, he stroked down her face and neck until the hand reached her clothed breast. He held it, supported it. Finally, he dropped his hand and broke the kiss by leaning away from her.

“Take another sip of your wine,” he suggested.

Sylvia was puzzled. He couldn’t really be trying to get her drunk. She had a good idea of her capacity, and half a glass of whiskey -- much less wine -- would be insufficient. The kiss and the petting had been pleasant; why should she stop to sip wine. Her previous experience was with men (boys really) who would have been trying to get her top off by now. Boys she’d liked less than Greg had succeeded. But Greg having offered her the wine, she took a sip. When she set the wine glass down, he turned her face towards him for another kiss. His tongue touched hers again.

“Quite the most intoxicating way to drink wine,” Greg said. “The taste is there, if the quantity is low; and the kisses provide the intoxication.”

Chopin came to a climax; a Brahms string piece followed. Greg kissed her again, pulling her into the kiss. When she seemed involved, his hand went to the buttons on the back of her blouse. She made no objection. He’d expected none. The problems he expected wouldn’t be above the waist. When the blouse was fully unbuttoned, he rested his hand on her back while leaning back from the kiss. He held out her wine glass again.

“Share another sip?” he asked. She took the glass and sipped. When she’d put the glass back on the coffee table, he pulled her into another kiss. This was more insistent. She bent back a little while his tongue explored her mouth. At that point, he unsnapped her bra. He let her settle back. He held her loosely by the shoulder while he kissed her brow and the side of her face.

Sylvia enjoyed these kisses, even if they weren’t as exciting as the earlier ones. She’d had a blazing romance her junior year, a romance which had stopped just short of intercourse. And, she sometimes admitted to herself, it would not have stopped short if Aaron hadn’t graduated. But Aaron had never made her feel so cherished as Greg sometimes did. The kisses were signs of being cherished, and the hand brushing up under her blouse to hold her breast was as exciting to her as it probably was to Greg.

Greg kissed Sylvia again as he fondled her. Lovely girl, dear girl, she was responding to him. When his thumb brushed her nipple, it was already erect. He dropped both hands to her hips and lifted her onto his lap. Now, his kisses went from her ear to her neck and back. His hands cradled her breasts with one finger occasionally straying across a nipple.

Greg’s sudden display of strength surprised and impressed her. When the motion didn’t threaten her in any way, she relaxed into a new level of arousal. The kisses were gentle gifts to her excitement, not something he was taking from her. Even when he brushed the blouse and bra straps off her shoulders, she was being freed, not being stripped.

“Sweet girl,” he whispered, “lovely woman.” When her head turned towards him, he kissed her temple near the corner of her eye.

He half raised her again. When he let her down, she was seated almost sideways on his lap. He returned his mouth to hers as the fingers of his left hand began to stroke her breast gently, always toward the nipple.

Sylvia felt aroused in general, but the nipple of her left breast felt engorged. It was as if his fingers were sweeping the emotions along her breast to its end. She was afraid of her feelings. She almost decided to do something to slow the evening down. Yet she felt disappointed when he leaned back with only his lap and the arm around her shoulder holding her.

“My turn,” Greg said. He reached for his glass and poured a healthy swig into his mouth. He raised her with his arm while ducking his head until his mouth covered the tip of her breast. He let the wine in his mouth surge forward to soak her nipple and areola. He sucked twice before swallowing. Then he licked the nipple before withdrawing his mouth. With his hand on her knee, he went back to kissing her mouth.

The wine had an astringent effect on Sylvia’s nipple. She felt as though all the arousal that his stroking fingers had stored in the nipple ran down into her belly. She could barely taste the wine in his mouth, but his searching tongue aroused in a different way. By the time she felt his hand sliding up her thigh, it was more exciting than threatening.

Greg caressed up her thigh until his fingers could pass under her clothed labia. Some moisture had seeped through panties and pantyhose. He rubbed that dampness as lightly as his fingers could manage. Meanwhile, he kissed a trail from the corner of her mouth to her ear before returning to lick her nipple again.

Greg wanted to get out of the living room. That afternoon, before showering and changing his clothes, he’d prepared the bedroom.

He’d changed the sheets and folded the top sheet into a narrow pad at the very foot of the bed. He’d secreted several contraceptives under the edges of the mattress on either side. He’d left the light off, but the bathroom light on with the door half closed. The door from the bedroom into the living room, he left barely ajar. He was ready; the room was ready; now to get Sylvia ready.

Sylvia felt more aroused than she had ever felt this fully clothed. Had she been alone, she would have ripped off her skirt and underclothes and brought herself some relief. But she wasn’t alone. All this arousal was coming from him. She tried to keep still, but she couldn’t keep herself from wriggling slightly under his caresses.

When Sylvia started writhing in his arms, Greg’s patience snapped. He put his left arm under her legs and straightened on the couch. He pulled his legs under him and pushed himself up. For one horrible second, he was unbalanced. Then he straightened with Sylvia in his arms. He’d been aroused for some time, and was careful to hold her so that she didn’t press against his erection. He walked to the bedroom and used a foot to shove the door open. He carried her through. When he set her on the bed, he knelt beside it. He kissed her mouth once, and then returned to licking and sucking her breast.

Sylvia knew she should say something when he picked her up, but she was too busy holding on. Besides, what she really wanted was for his hand to resume stroking her. Soon it did, and his mouth returned to her breast. The bed, although frightening, was also more comfortable. She could move as much as she wanted to without pressing against his hard arm.

Greg thought that Sylvia was ahead of him in terms of clothes. He used his mouth and left hand to keep her aroused, while his right hand unbuttoned his shirt. He stroked his left hand down to her knee, abandoned her to release two cuffs and toss the shirt behind him. He took another two minutes stroking her thigh through the pantyhose and playing with her ear with his right hand before he stopped to tear off his t-shirt. The loafers didn’t need any hands at all. When he bent over her to kiss the breast he had been neglecting, he felt the wet nipple of the other breast against his skin.

Sylvia felt aroused, but confused. She was staring up at a ceiling dimly lit from two other rooms. She felt bare skin pressing into her bare skin. Wasn’t that awfully far along? Yet the kisses were welcome, the feelings in her crotch were delightful. It seemed weird to accept these and question mere touching. Then he was kissing her mouth again. Then he was whispering to her.

“Sylvia, beautiful Sylvia, delightful Sylvia, raise your hips a little.”

When she did, Greg drew her skirt down and off. As it was passing over her feet, he grabbed her shoes, as well. He turned to lay the skirt across a chair, and put the shoes safely under it. He could treat his own clothes as cavalierly as he wished; messing up her clothes might poison her entire memory of the evening. He returned to her mouth. After a moment, he stroked her leg upward from the knee.

When he reached her mound, he pressed that and relieved the pressure rhythmically. He wasn’t being rough, but he used more pressure than he had on her labia, more -- even -- than he had on her leg. He went back to sucking her nipple, and let his fingers stray down to her labia.

Sylvia felt her nakedness more now that the skirt was gone. It certainly hadn’t hampered his hand, but she felt more exposed. That exposure, however, added to her arousal. And the kisses were still sweet. Indeed, she wished that he would be more direct on her clit.

Greg was burning with desire, but he had only one hand for his own clothes. He got his right sock off easily; the left one defeated him in this position. He loosened the belt and dropped his trousers down to knee level. He raised himself to kiss her mouth, using the opportunity to get his right leg out of the trousers. He stood up again with both hands on the edge of her pantyhose.