Damn him. Well, if that’s the way he wanted it, she would find another instructor. Maria’s wedding was five months away. She still had time to learn to dance the salsa.
“Why didn’t you just tell him you wanted to learn to dance so you don’t make a fool of yourself at your friend’s wedding?”
Gloria, her feet tucked under her as she sat on the couch, shifted her cell phone to her other ear.
“Because it isn’t any of his business,” she told her friend, LaShonda. “I paid him to teach me, not to find out what is in my head or in my heart. What does that have to do with teaching me how to dance?”
“Girl, you are such a fool. The man asked you a simple question and you had to turn it into World War III.”
“And I didn’t like the way he was teaching me,” Gloria went on. “He was too hard.”
She bit her lip at the irony of her statement. That was the problem. He hadn’t been hard enough.
“But he was fine, right?”
“He was all right.”
LaShonda laughed. “Ain’t what I heard. I heard he’s more than all right. I heard he’s one fine piece of Latin love. Sexy, dark eyes. Nice, tight butt. And he dances like he could make a woman come until her throat is raw from screaming.”
Gloria’s cunt tingled at LaShonda’s words. It was true. All of it. But it didn’t matter. She was never going to see him again. But, damn it, she also couldn’t stop thinking about him.
“You should apologize.” LaShonda’s voice cut into her thoughts.
“Why?”
“Because the person at fault is usually the one who apologizes,” LaShonda said dryly.
“I’m not at fault.”
“Yes, girlfriend, you are. You’re at fault because it’s obvious you’ve wanted to screw that man since day one. But you’re too scared or prudish or stupid to tell him.”
“LaShonda,” Gloria said, her voice rising.
“So, either you apologize, finish your lessons so you don’t look stupid at your friend’s wedding, and then ask him out, or you sit there and masturbate. ’Cause, girl, you got it bad. Real bad.”
LaShonda said good night and hung up. Gloria put the cell phone down. It was uncanny how LaShonda knew her so well. But this time it didn’t matter what her friend said. There was no way Gloria was going to apologize to Eduardo. He’d made it quite clear how he felt about her. She wasn’t going to make a fool of herself by apologizing to him. Because if there was anything Gloria hated, it was making a fool of herself.
But, Lord, he was so fine. Even now she found herself fantasizing about him.
His mouth moving slowly across her cunt, his lips rubbing against the wet lips of her labia, his tongue seeking her searing core, licking slowly at the wetness seeping out of her, the tip rasping against her clit.
Gloria shivered. She shoved her hand down her sweatpants and underneath her panties. Her finger slipped across her cunt the way she imagined Eduardo’s mouth would. She moved her finger inside her and imagined it was his long, agile tongue, invading her, tasting her, ravishing her.
She threw her head back against the couch, her thighs slackening, her legs opening wider as she stroked faster. She imagined Eduardo’s dark head moving between her thighs, his mouth engulfing her sex, his tongue lapping hungrily at her.
She bucked her hips, her finger moving wetly in and out, twisting and rubbing against the sensitive inner walls. She massaged her juices over her clit, slowly circling.
“Yes, lick my pussy, lick it,” she whispered.
She moaned as she fell deeper into her fantasy. She spread her legs wider, her finger moving quickly as she imagined Eduardo’s long, wet tongue licking and probing her cunt. She tossed her head back and forth, her pelvis humping as she stroked and rubbed her swollen clit.
“Oh, yes, yes, yes,” she moaned. “Oh, God.” Her fingers flew over her clit, her body shuddering, her hips quivering.
The phone rang. Gloria gasped, her orgasm just on the edge of peaking. Then she realized it wasn’t her cell phone. It was the house phone. The only person who typically called her on the house phone was her mother. She jumped up and ran for it, picking it up on the fourth ring.
“Hello?”
“Gloria?”