Keith and I go to the Blue Coyote Café for some Dragon Well green tea and chocolate raspberry biscotti. We take the table in the corner near the front window. Even with the curtain pulled, the afternoon sun blazes through. It’s quiet and peaceful, the silence broken only by the crunch of Keith’s biscotti and the clack of the waitress thumbing text into her cellphone. I page through the free magazine Keith had plucked from a rack near the door on the way in. Modern Interiors.

“What do you think of this couch?” I ask Keith, pointing to a glossy photo of a huge white sectional sofa with little bookcases built into the ends.

“Very white,” he says. “Nice.”

“Why do you suppose the bookcases are bare? You’d think there’d at least be a magazine.”

“Like Car and Driver?” Keith says.

“Oh, sure. Or Road and Truck.”

“Road and Track,” Keith says. “Anyway, I can picture you lying on that couch.” He fingers the far end of it. Caresses it. “On your tummy. You bare ass looks so beautiful. So inviting.”

“Bare ass, huh?”

“To go with the bare bookcases.”

I laugh.

He says, “Okay, I’ll let you have one book.”

“A good one, I hope. No car stuff.”

“How about Wisconsin Dairy Production, 1947?”

“Just what I always wanted to read. Wait. That’s just the cover. The actual book is something else.”

“It is?”

“Yup. Secrets of the Perfect Blow Job.”

“Ha!” Keith exclaims. His finger jabs the glossy picture of the white couch then returns to stroking. “What are the secrets?”

“I guess you’ll have to read the book,” I say. “Hmmm, chapter six looks interesting.”

“What’s chapter six?”

“‘When to Spit, When to Swallow.’” I glance at Keith to see if he has a reaction. He raises his eyebrows.

I move my head slowly side to side. “Is that all you can say?”

“I haven’t said anything.”

“So I noticed.”

We stare at each other. I’m not going to give in.

“Okay, I like the way it looks when my cum leaks out of your mouth,” he says. “But I like when you swallow, too.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It makes me feel like you like me. Like you like my cum.”

“I do like your cum,” I say.

“But do you like the taste of it?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes I like the idea of having your cum in my tummy. I like the idea of having your cum in my cunt, too.”

“Mmmm,” Keith says.

“You’re getting hard, aren’t you?” I say.

“Mmmm.”

“Do you want me to make you come in your pants?”

Keith looks over at the waitress, who is still behind the counter working her cell phone. She is the only one in the Blue Coyote Café besides us.

“Do you think she’d notice?” I ask. “Do you think she’d care?”

Keith shrugs. His lips do a wrinkly thing.

“What do you think she’s typing?” I ask.

“You tell me,” Keith says. “You’re the budding poet. I’m just a beleaguered med student learning how to deliver babies and bedpans.”

“Probably she’s telling her boyfriend how hot you are.”

“Why would she do that?”

“To make him jealous. So when he comes to pick her up, his cock is practically bursting through his pants.” I let my hand graze the front of Keith’s jeans. Just the lightest touch, but I can feel his cock. So hard. So big.

She’s cute, isn’t she?” I say, my pinkie finger caressing the bulge of his cockhead. “You like those tall boots and short shorts. You like her perky breasts and pert butt. You’d like to fuck her, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know,” Keith says. “You’d better stop that or I will mess my pants.”

I fold my hands on the table in front of me like a good girl. “What if I make you come without actually touching you?”

“How would you do that?”

“I’m the budding poetess, remember? Now close your eyes.”

He looks at me and then he closes his eyes.

“Now imagine you’re lying on the white couch,” I whisper. “Just taking a little nap. Dreaming of that cute waitress. Suddenly you feel my lips on your cock. I’m kneeling between your legs, sucking you. Instantly your cute waitress dream evaporates. I’m sucking you very slowly, very carefully, spending a lot of time just teasing your slit. But sometimes I open my mouth wide, wide, wide, and go all the way down, all the way until your cock touches the back of my throat. And then slowly, slowly, slowly, I ease my mouth up, up, up sliding along the long length of your cock, until pop, it’s free, and it’s all wet with my spit, glistening in the air, yearning for my mouth, but I refrain, and your poor stiff penis throbs with want. Oh, the poor darling. So big and proud and needy. At last I take pity, but only a pinch of pity. I flick my tongue against that little wedge where you’re so sensitive. Flick, flick, flick. Your penis lurches. I back off. Oh, you want me so bad. You want my lips, my mouth, my sweet hard sucking. But all you get is a kiss. A tender kiss on that adorable ruffle of skin below the sensitive wedge. I’m so naughty. I’m such a tease. I hold your cock in my mouth, but don’t move at all. I breathe in its beauty. Its fullness. Its flavor. I do want to feel you squirt. The thought of your cream jetting into my mouth excites me, but I’m not going to give in. Not yet. The longer we wait, the better it will be. Your cock throbs in my mouth. I can feel it expanding. But I won’t give in. No, no, no. Not yet. Even though my cunt is soaking and my clit is swollen and I could come myself with the barest touch.”