Chapter 4

We might have been kissing for seconds or for hours. As incredibly sexy as she was, the nonverbal emotional experience was even more intense. Both of us had scar tissue from things that had inhibited us. For me, it had been the emphasis on my needing to be hypersensitive to any "no" from a woman. That came from my assorted foster female parents, who really were rather negative about men. It made it difficult for me to engage in the flirtations and play that would lead to both sexual and emotional closeness. Working girls let me get rid of the worst of the tensions, but weren't the right people to banish guilt. I did have a couple of girlfriends, or friends that were girls, but those tended to be odd relationships. Several were mostly lesbian-identified, but they didn't assume I was "safe" as were some gay guys, but rather someone they trusted for limited physical interaction that probably wasn't going to go anywhere.

At some point, one of us stopped for breath, and the other found that breathing probably was a fine idea. We held one another. Carol got a gleam in her eye. "Let's fuck each other soon, because I have a deliciously nasty idea. After you've cum in me, not only can I do symbolic stuff penetrating myself with a shoe, but I can get cum on it. This is fantastic. I've never had so many quick outrageous things to try in my life."

"Not even on stage?"

"No, not usually. We don't do full live sex shows. Let's talk about club detail later. Right now, I want to fuck. I don't just want you in me, but I want you staring at me and thinking of me as a sex goddess."

"I already do!"

"What I meant is giving you ideas whenever you look. Let me adjust my dress properly." She pulled at the laces of her top, until I could see at least some nipple. "Later, I'll try some extra heavy makeup, but not now." She giggled. "I'll just keep on these ordinary six-inch strapped pumps, but I'll leave more shoes in reach. We'll figure out what to do with them. Let's face it -- playing with the heel could take some forethought so it doesn't puncture anything important!"

"I'm really wet." She reached down, and then put a finger in my mouth. "Taste. Want me to suck you first, or are you ready?"

"I'm as ready as I've ever been."

"Oh, Curt, you are inspiring me to use words like I've never done before. I want to fuck in this dress. I want you to watch the skirt sliding back and forth over my upper thighs ... my taut, delicious upper thighs. I want it to play peekaboo with my pussy as I bounce up and down on you. With us, slut is the most wonderful of loving terms. Your slut is going to fuck both of us crazy."

As she chattered, I lifted her hips with my hands, and then slipped her onto me. She was kneeling. Yes, she was very wet, but still a silken glove around my cock. Vaginal with Carol was as or more delicious with Carol as the hard anal we had already had, but definitely different. I looked down, and sucked in my stomach so I could see my full length going in and out of her.

Carol's reflections

I was so free of being a nice girl. I was so free of being someone else's idea of a sexy girl when on the stage, a sexy girl that still was going through the conventions of the act, of the stage. I was with a wonderful man who appreciated me ... well, at least to myself, I can say loved me, for being everything I wanted to be. Curt was even showing me how to put my inner desires into words.

Curt's reflections

It was heavenly, not just because of how it felt, but because she was doing everything she could to confirm that she wanted me. It was absolutely, positively yes.

With some other women, I would defer my orgasm because I wanted to be sure they had theirs. With yet other women, working girls, I'd defer my orgasm to get my money's worth. Now, I just surrendered to pleasure, and knowing that pleasure would radiate into Carol and, amplified, back into me, I exploded into her. Wave after wave, of more cum than I thought was in me.

Weirdly, although it felt like I had given up everything, I didn't feel like rolling over and going to sleep. No, I was invigorated. She knee-walked to my face. "Just a little tongue to take me over the top." I barely touched her clit, mixed nectars dripping onto my face, and she was lost in her climax. We both sensed that one was just right for her in this delicious moment. Carol bent forward, put her face against mine, and stretched out on top of me. I knew she was a big healthy girl, but I now thought of her as more of a lioness, rippling muscle under soft skin. Those muscles kept her almost weightless, supported slightly by her arms. She sighed and snuggled. My arms went around her. Life was good. Life was immensely better than what I realized was just a day ago.

Eventually, we shifted to side-by-side, not deeply asleep, but resting. After all, we had been at the club at least well after midnight, but was up for cat feeding and breakfast -- the order is important -- at eight. With the emotional intensity and delightful physical activity, we both needed rest. I wasn't worried. I was confident that things were going in a great direction, and closed my eyes.

Oops! I looked for a telephone. I managed to get out of bed without disturbing Carol. I was able to make a quick, quiet call to my consulting group, to let them know I was taking the day off. Back to bed.

Sleepily, I became aware of a soft warmth against the top of my head. How did Carol get there? Then, I heard a purr. As a kid, I was scared of cats. As I've gotten older, cats have decided that they tend to like me, and I'm rethinking my relationship with them. I can live very easily with being an uncle to Carol's pair.

As an alarm clock on a leisurely morning, a cat isn't at all bad. Carol was still sleeping against my side, her head halfway onto my chest. I didn't want to move yet, but I did want to think. Carol was an incredible playmate. In the past, she had also been an intellectual partner, so there was more depth to the relationship. We were sharing thoughts and feelings at a very deep level. It was amusing that I was bringing up more of the core of my emotional issues than I had managed to do in a couple of years of psychoanalysis. I don't know about the rest of you, but when I'm thinking, I sometimes "speak" to myself to emphasize a point. That mental voice, who for unknown reasons seems to have an Irish lilt, spoke up. "Curt, me boy, you're well on the way to love, bypassing infatuation. Don't wait until you're old and realizing what you've lost." The mental voice apparently has a library that isn't available to the rest of my brain.

When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.

William Butler Yeats

"So, what do you want to do next, Carol's Fella?"

Hmm. Well, in no way did I want to do anything to limit the incredible sex, or our incredible communication. I needed to find out more about the situation with Marie, someone we both loved even though we had been scared of the L-word. I wanted to have Carol experience more of my world, with the intuition that she'd like it.

Things could well be the same on Carol's side. When she brought Shelly to us for a sexual encounter, I think that I actually talked more to Shelly than I ever had in high school. Shelly, as I remembered, was part of the athletic clique, but very quiet although very attractive. I realized that I couldn't remember her actually saying anything to me, although I certainly remembered her hip-length hair, striking Mediterranean face, big boobs, and challenges in making a miniskirt cover what she thought ought to be covered when she sat down. If that was a sample, she knew interesting people.

Whether she heard me thinking or not, Carol stirred, smiled to herself, and opened her eyes. "So nice to be next to you. Good morning, afternoon, or whatever it is. Brunch is ready whenever you want."

"Brunch? Have you been out of bed long enough to cook?"

"Not necessary. I just needed to be out of bed long enough to make a short call to the concierge."

"Concierge?"

"Curt, you're going to find out this is a very interesting building, beyond my apartment. It's owned by those mysterious people who are friends of the friends of my uncle's friends. Helpfully, it's zoned for both offices and residences. The business and financial manager for the club, for example, has her office here but also her apartment. You could just say she works from home. The friends of the etcetera provide a concierge and people that run errands. I don't think there's anything illegal there, but just that they want to be able to do favors, even little ones, for their favored people in Washington. So, I just had to say 'brunch for two, nothing that can't sit for a bit', and know that the concierge's elves would make it appear in the service lift.

"There are other very interesting things here, which you'll discover.

"Before you use your mouth for food, though, kiss me, and nibble on anything else you happen to find interesting in this bed. No, that doesn't included cats, although they sometimes do like kisses and nuzzles." With that, I began some systematic nerd kissing, starting on her hair, across her forehead, gently on her eyes, dramatic kisses on her very cute nose, and moving to her lips and mouth and tongue. The gods had happily decreed that her morning breath was sweet.

Her hands more active than in a mere hug, her strong fingers sensed and probed and relaxed the muscles of my back. I'd have to learn to massage like that. Cheerfully, I remembered that I did give very nice non-fetishistic foot rubs, which my mother had needed.

Silently, we came to mutual agreement that it was time to get up. I saw that my borrowed robe was at the edge of the bed. Carol swung her lovely nakedness out of bed, and said "I want to put on a few clothes, maybe to keep us a little under control, but, most assuredly, my dear, they will make you want to remove them, or at least push them aside. Actually, give me a few minutes in my dressing room to make myself even more pleasing."

She flowed across the bedroom and into her dressing room. I was to learn that Carol had a magical ability to freshen makeup, or apply new makeup, in an incredibly short time. One friend with benefits was indeed a makeup artiste, but it seemed to take at least 45 minutes for her to do anything more than update her lipstick.

Carol emerged in a carefully put-together outfit that simultaneously was casual, comfortable-looking if one knows that the wearer is comfortable in heels, and devastatingly sexy. On top, she had a translucent white shirt, tied below her breasts. It revealed her perfect belly. Its line also underscored her breasts. Her nipples were not dark enough to show clearly through the fabric, although their deep rose did suggest something. The blouse was unbuttoned enough to show distinct cleavage, without a hint that she might fall out.

Her green skirt was tailored yet flaring, short mini rather than crotch length. If anything, it drew eyes to follow her upper thighs rather than simply accept them. She had accented her legs with off-black, or maybe dark brown, hose. Curt knew, without checking, that only extra-tall thigh-highs could be what she wore; pantyhose were cheating.

Further enhancing her legs were strappy sandals, with stiletto heels high enough to trigger my shoe fetish, but low enough that a trained dancer could move comfortably.

Literally crowning the outfit was something that made my eyes tear just a little: the French Foreign Legion green beret that Marie had given her. I had its mate at home, in an honored position on the mirror above my dresser. It did flash through my mind that it was just different enough from a U.S. Army Special Forces green beret to avoid any embarrassment should the wearer encounter a U.S. Green Beret on the street. I reserved judgment on the results of an encounter with a Girl Scout.

I admired the view. "You mentioned brunch? Let me get the first course." He walked close, looked in her eyes, not really understanding the details of her eye makeup but realizing that it made her emerald eyes even more compelling. He realized, as he approached her, that the eye makeup also picked up the green of her beret and skirt. Our lips met lightly, and perhaps there was just a meeting of the tips of tongues.

My tongue had other plans. I squatted. Flipping up the front of her skirt, as I suspected, she wore no panties. Her lips beckoned, and I licked up and down her slit, just outside, just to tease us both, me with taste and her with light flicking.

I stood again. "I'll taste the back side as dessert. Let's see what your elves provided for brunch." She went to a small door in the kitchen wall, and opened it to reveal a service elevator. Carol lifted out a tray as gracefully as were all her other movements. There were some ice-dressed shrimp cocktails, and a pile of small sandwiches. Somehow, I knew that her brunch order had been interpreted for taste and energy, but not to slow us down for other things. We went to the table and broke up laughing, as each of us started to feed a shrimp to the other.