“Not all white folks, just this one. See?” I bite my bottom lip and twist stiffly, knowing it will elicit from her that sexy, throaty laugh I’d discovered she had during dinner.
She starts grinding against me as Aretha’s “Pride (A Deeper Love)” pounds from the speakers. Her hot, fruity Cosmopolitan breath steams up the front of my neck as her fingers creep up the back and twirl tresses of hair bobbing at my t-shirt collar. Sweaty air, pulsating rhythm, and flashing strobe lights fade like clouds of dry ice vapors. All I can smell is Poetess’s enticing musk perfume, feel her soft, tight body pushing against mine, her hypnotic amber eyes boring holes through my inhibition.
“How much longer are you going to tease me,” she breathes in my ear, sliding her hands down my back, halting them just short of my ass.
“My mistake,” I joke, dying for them to keep sliding. “From where I’m standing, I’m the one being teased.”
“Well, I know only one way we can resolve this debate.” She locks her thigh between mine and we sway to the beat.
“What’s that? Allow six inches of interpersonal space while we dance?”
“Uh, no,” she sings, loosening the jacket sleeves knotted around my waist. “Go back to my room.”
She has my jacket off again before the door to her room slams shut. Her plump lips lunge for mine as she tears at my belt buckle and swerves me toward the bed. I caress her soft brown arms and shoulders before falling to the cushy designer bedspread.
“Get out of those pants,” she demands. She then lurches upright, crosses her arms and rips off her slinky black Vera Wang, revealing a candy-apple bra and matching thong.
I’m ashamed of myself, drooling over her all evening like a horny high school boy. Then suddenly I feel sympathy for the little creeps. This evening I’d learned how frustrating it is to want someone so badly. I obey her by squirming out of my dress pants and shirt in time to feel her warm, lanky body push mine back down. As she nibbles my ear and neck, her fingers sneak in through the side of my low-rise bikinis and stroke my aching clit.
“That feels nice,” I exhale in her ear and bite a sumptuous shoulder that had tempted me all night from spaghetti straps. Her long finger
s penetrate, jolting me with pleasure. I gasp and grab her head as the fingers move slowly in and out. I’m so hot for her, I feel like I’ll cum at any second.
“Not yet, baby,” she says, pulling her hand out and divesting herself of her thong and bra. She sits up and stretches her long, naked body back, rubbing herself all over. She then begins slowly caressing her clit with one hand and fondling a maroon nipple with the other as I lie tortured, permitted to touch only the tops of her thighs.
“Let me, ’Tess,” I beg, trying to pull her pelvis toward me. She slides up my body and offers my mouth her shaved treasure. I clutch at her firm cheeks and swirl my tongue around her ready clit. She lowers herself fully onto my face and throws her head back as I lick and tease her.
“Aw, yeah, Tammy, do it, do it,” she moans.
I slip my tongue inside her and she shrieks with delight. Her breasts reach toward the ceiling and she claws at the bedspread as her climax begins. I rivet her clit as fast as I can while her groans fill the finely appointed room. She slowly thrusts against my tongue as an orgasm gathers force in the distance. I’m working her firm and steady, and suddenly feel fingers slide down over my clit, then up, then down again. This woman must be a gymnast. My own climax begins rumbling through, reverberating out to every limb, every organ. I struggle to hold my tongue in place on Poetess as a fierce climax roars in, giving way to an orgasm perfectly-timed with hers. We shudder together in an erotic heap reminiscent of an experimental live art exhibit I saw at some dive gallery in Newark last year.
Poetess then slithers down on top of me and gently kisses my lips, face and neck, all the tenderness skipped in our frantic foreplay. I wrap my arms around her silky torso and one of her long black tendrils falls across my face.
“I’m glad you hit on me this morning,” I joke, running the tips of my fingernails down her sides.
“Yeah, right. You were all over my shit the second I snatched my bagel.”
She then gazes at me with sweet eyes, and I sigh, knowing I’ll never get that face out of my head no matter how many times I bang it against the wall.
“Listen,” she whispers. “I know you’re in Jersey and I’m in Alexandria, but I am a travel agent. I can get deals.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.” Just as I’m about to fall asleep in her arms, her lips begin a trip at my collar bone and glide all the way down until I’m once again, shuddering with ecstasy. I think the sun was rising by the time we finally stopped touching each other.
The clang from the Powell and Hyde line trolley screeching by stirs me awake. Or maybe it was the fingers dancing across my stomach. “Time to get up,” the voice of their owner whispers in my ear.
I pry open sleepy eyes to Poetess’s satisfied grin and jumble of wild curls. After a sensual kiss, she flips the covers off her gleaming nakedness and tries to climb out of bed. One stealth attack from my arm and she’s on her back again, her head bouncing on the pillow.
“We’re gonna be late,” she giggles, playfully struggling free.
“I don’t care. Let’s blow off that lame brunch and stay in bed. Who needs another long-winded speech from some stuck-up, got-it-all-together overachiever, anyway?”
“Normally, I’d agree, but since all the other stuck up, got-it-all-together overachievers are sort of expecting me…” She grins with adorably humble eyes.
“You’re kidding,” I shout, roused from sleepiness. “You mean to tell me I spent the entire night banging NAFSBO’s Woman of the Year?”
“Sure did. And might I say, damn good for a girl with no rhythm.”
“I guess this means I have to stay awake for the closing speech,” I tease. She swats me with her pillow before padding off to the shower.