Going naked under a dress might be something Annie could do and would do, actually but I will have my underwear on, thank you very much. I can hear the music half a street away: sultry jazz, a deep smoky voiced-singer crooning along, the rat-tat-tat beat of a snare drum behind it. All right , I think to myself, so coming out might have been a little bit of a good idea.
I can feel the heat of the paved sidewalks under the soles of my shoes — the remains of another scorching August day. It feels good, makes me relax and loosen up. It looks good. I run my fingers through my hair, and grin, thinking of it. Who knows, maybe I will meet someone sexy tonight? It could happen. You buy me a drink for dragging your lame ass out of your apartment and providing you with an awesome Saturday night?
But yeah, bottoms up.
Uncategorized | CC MACKENZIE – USA Today Bestselling Author
She lifts the glass to her lips and takes it in one swig. Annie has jokingly flirted with me many times — more in the manner of trying to make me blush or crack a smile. You going to drink it or do I need to do that one too? Bad idea.
The 25 Best LGBT Novels of All Time
The liquor hits the back of my throat and I instantly seize up into a cough, like fire all the way down into my lungs. I shrug, and follow her lead, moving through the sweaty, bumping crowd of dancers. When they say these things, I make brief eye contact with Annie. So I talk about you a lot I guess.
Overly attentive? Was there something super obvious all this time that I missed? And, like, every day since. Still, I have no idea what to say. Or what seducing me would even involve. Or what we would actually do if she got me into her bed. Am I getting worked up thinking about… what… having sex… with Annie? Finally, I muster up the nerve to spit something out. Annie laughs, throwing her head back. When she does, I notice how her tank top stretches over her breasts.
Her breasts? Why am I noticing her breasts? They are sporty, compact but full. Her nipples are straining against her bra, hard enough to be able to see the outline through the layers of fabric. I suddenly want to touch them, just put my hands on the outside of her shirt and feel the bump of her nipples through the soft cotton.
Like a million times. You just never realised. You know they say that sexuality is like a scale? Everyone is on the scale somewhere. I guess maybe you are on of those people who is really truly way up high on the hyper-heterosexual end. Have you ever even had a fantasy about a woman? I shrug. But I know that I notice other women a lot. I notice the shape of a leg on the subway or the smooth skin of a bare back in a low-slung dress in line in front me at the grocery store.
I notice women around me, their perfume or their clothing or the way they walk.
- Being Faithful - The Shape of Historic Anglicanism Today?
- Mastering The Marchioness.
- His Property.
- 21 Steamy Erotic Stories Written By Women — & Why They’re Important.
- Adult & Teachers World Book Day Costumes.
- History for Kids: An Illustrated Biography of Susan B. Anthony for Children;
Noticing things about them that I have myself? Is it? Catch my brain up to my body. When she talks, she waves her hands around and I suddenly imagine her hands cupping my own breasts, squeezing, and her mouth coming down over my nipple, licking. When I burst out onto the pavement, the cooler night air hits my face and I realise how hot I am, how fast my heart is beating. I have to get home. Get home and go to sleep. Another couple of streets to my place, and I can take a shower and have a cup of tea and just go to sleep.
The image of Annie in my shower, naked, wet, suddenly comes into my mind. Where is this coming from? Oh god, she looks so good in my imagination though. When she says it that way, firm and serious, I do, immediately. I stop, standing stock still on the sidewalk. You know me, I say things. Then her eyes darken, her lids lower. She takes my hand in hers, grips hard, and pulls me along beside her up the sidewalk. We walk fast, in silence, up the remaining block to my apartment, and as we approach the front door, she reaches over with her other hand.
She unlocks the front door, and we climb the three flights of stairs up to my floor.
- Erotic Fiction: read Meeting Annie.
- Passenger - Let her go - Lyrics.
- Lesbian erotic fiction: read free erotic story Meeting Annie (part one).
- Child in the Manger: Christmas Sheet Music for String Quartet.
- Complete Medical Guide and Prevention for Heart Disease Volume XVI; Hypotension.
- Get A Copy.
At my door, she puts the second key into the slot, turns, and then pauses. Annie closes the door firmly behind us, turns the deadbolt and pulls the chain across. The quiet in the apartment is almost shocking after the noise outside; the cars passing by, the clomping of our feet against the sidewalk, had all seemed so quiet, but now, behind the closed door, no longer moving, all I can hear is our hurried breath against the silence. I lean back into the wall, looking down at my feet, hands behind me, feeling shyer than I can ever recall being before.
It seems like an eternity before Annie finally turns to me, slowly, moving into place in front of me. She ducks her head down a little to catch my eye, and puts her hand on my chin, tilting my face up towards her.
Over and over again, like a bobble head toy on the dash of a car. She keeps just looking at me - her eyes roam over my face, down to my neck, and suddenly, I feel so impatient. I want to beg her to do something - anything - to me. She leans in, and kisses my forehead. The tip of my nose. Briefest kiss on my lips. One side of my jaw. Near my ear. To my neck. Down to my clavicle. Peppering kisses across my chest. I feel her exhale, hot and damp, against my skin, and it makes me shiver. I want… Fuck… I want this to be so good for you. Pushing my breast deeper into her hand, a small moan escapes my mouth.
My body pushing into her, my moan of pleasure — a Molotov cocktail catching fire, fuelled by her years of imagining this moment. She lifts her mouth to mine and kisses me deep, hard, and her hands come up on either side of my face as her tongue slips into mine. I feel new and foolish, like a teenager at my first dance unsure of what to do.
I feel her breathe against my lips, panting now, desperate. Intuitively, my hips push forward towards her and wordlessly, without breaking the kiss at all, she pushes her knee forward and up, sliding it between my thighs, pushing the skirt of my dress up with it until the top of her knee is against the juncture of my thighs.
Both lay wrinkled on the floor. He never took the time to undress in the dressing rooms provided to our clients; he preferred to yank his top off and expose his vest to me every week like some kind of sub superhero. Aimee charged in seconds after Walt left my play space, bent over in cackles. I giggled. What happened? The cackles flowed out of us again as we walked out of the play space and into the locker room. Besides, Kitty Korner paid the bills and never failed to give me a few laughs, especially when my girl Aimee worked the early morning shift with me.
After getting dressed, I stepped out into the lobby to more chuckles from my work buddy. Again, not what Joan and Darius Foster had imagined for their little girl, but bills. Aimee tightened the belt on her robe. I may be needing a gig from you soon. I watched her eyes shadow over with worry. I reached for her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Call me later? I walked to my stop, counting my blessings for what I had in Walt. He was a heartless politician, but he was steady work. I had dozens of clients literally come and go, but Walt was my Thursday guarantee. But as I stepped into Cupz an hour later, pushing through the crowd to get behind the counter, I saw my guarantee being hauled off to jail on live television.
A preppy-looking Indian guy in front of me nodded, his eyes never leaving the screen to look at me. Securities fraud will get you up to twenty-five in the slammer. The crowd dispersed as an image of Walt being helped into the back of a police car illuminated the screen.
I stood there, motionless. Now, I was watching Walt—almost half of my monthly income—get hauled to Sing-Sing. A rush of overwhelm hit me just as my boss yelled for me from the counter. I took a deep breath and walked behind the counter to start the one gig I still had. But between rent, utilities, food, and basic upkeep, I was looking at a loss of twelve hundred a month. A knock rapped on my door, and I hopped off my bed. My breath caught in my throat when I opened the door and saw Darryl Winston. But Darryl was a different story altogether.
Related Good Morning Miss Brown - Erotic Short Story for Women
Copyright 2019 - All Right Reserved