Curves

by Tessa Vidal

  Dylan made a low noise of protest. “You’re beautiful from head to toe. Trust me, I’ve seen every inch.”

  “Thank you. I know that, now, but at the time, I didn’t see that. Not when every person I tried to date just shook their head and walked away. It took going to college with a more diverse group of peers to find someone.” I shrugged and put two of the books on the shelf, and then paged through Color Me Beautiful. It was a classic, published in 1981, and still full of outdated pictures that once made me feel glamorous.

  “I think college is where a lot of us find our place in relation to ourselves and others,” Dylan said. “High school is the worst possible practice run for adulthood and relationships.”

  “Yeah. I mean, our brains aren’t even fully developed until after we’ve graduated college. So I’m pretty sure that counts for something.” I turned the book around to show her my favorite page. “This, though, kept me going. All I had to do was focus on the things I could control, instead of the things I couldn’t. That was how I protected myself, kept my heart safe from the people who would break it without a thought. The one time I finally let someone all the way in, she hurt me deeply.”

  Thinking of my near-miss with marriage made tears spring to my eyes. I slid the book back on the shelf and dipped my head to hide, until I could rummage in my purse for a tissue. Even though I was sure my face was red and my eyes puffy, I dabbed at the wetness and took a breath to compose myself. When I turned back to Dylan, she looked grim, a worried twist to her mouth.

  “It’s okay,” I reassured her. “There was someone who made me think I was everything to her and then she dumped me. For a model, of course.” I laughed softly and sniffled as I made another swipe at my face with the tissue.

  Dylan reached out and brushed her thumb over my cheek. “She was an idiot to do that.”

  “I know. When you and I met, I didn’t just reject you because I was afraid you were some kind of commitmentphobic cliché. It partially because I was over the idea of a post-break-up casual hook-up, but also not ready for something more. Your reputation precedes you, naturally, and I knew you fit more into the hook-up category. At least, that’s where I put you, in that little box I didn’t want to open.”

  “Why?”

  One more sniffle and my nose was clear, my eyes dry. I balled the used tissue up in my hand. “Because I’d rather be alone than pretend to have something I don’t. I don’t want to change a woman, either. That’s not the goal of any relationship. If there’s change on any level, it has to be because we choose it, not because someone else demands it.”

  “But you’ve changed me. Don’t you know that.” Dylan’s other hand lifted to cup my face and I tried to shake my head.

  “I don’t want you to change because of me. That’s the kind of change that dooms relationships.”

  She smiled and continued caressing my cheeks with both thumbs, stepping close so there was nothing between us. “You’ve changed me because I wanted you to, because I chose to change once I opened myself to it, I found what I wanted in my life. I always thought I had to go out of my way to make other people want and need me, but not with you. In fact, you were the one person who made it clear you didn’t want and need me. I had to find out why and see if I could change it.”

  “Why?” I asked. It was the question I’d wanted to ask her since we started dating, since this has turned into something. Wanted to ask, but never asked because I was afraid of the answer. Even now, a chill shook my body. I didn’t know what kind of answer I expected. But I still had to know, why me?

  “At first, it was a challenge I set for myself. You say I’m the unattainable one, but you were just as difficult to get. And why you, when I never did that with any other woman? Because you were different, not like every other beautiful woman I’d slept with. I had to know what made you special and why I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  I blinked, acutely aware of the way her hands framed my face. “I’m not special.”

  “You are to me. Once I pinpointed that, I knew the challenge wasn’t about me catching you anymore. It was about me holding onto you.” Dylan’s mouth met mine, fulfilling a fantasy I’d had since I was a teenager: To get kissed in the labyrinth of the stacks there at the New York Public Library.

  I hoped she was right, that I was special to her, and that I didn’t have to worry about our future – that her change came from the heart and was here to stay.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Dylan

  Sara consumed my nights in all the best ways possible. The only thing that concerned me was that we never spent them at her apartment. “Because Jennifer would make us sorry for being there,” she explained when I asked.

  “In what way?” I was dying to know. The few interactions I’d had with Jennifer were entertaining, to say the least.

  Sara made a face at me. “She’d stand outside my bedroom and probably make obnoxious sex noises. Trust me, it’s happened before and we’re better off just spending time at your place.”

  It was going on three months of the two of us as a couple and I’d visited her apartment only twice, but that was all it took to tell me she was right. Each time, Jennifer found a way to grace us with her presence. The first time, she’d interrogated me about my past, my health, and my favorite sexual positions. The second time, she’d asked me a question that sounded like it came straight out of a Cards Against Humanity deck. Sara blushed crimson and dragged me out of there before I could take a breath.

  “So what? She’s a character.” I shrugged and hung up the new silk blouse I’d acquired from the fashion closet at work. It was navy blue, not my usual color, but sometimes a change of pace was nice. “I think she’d be entertaining.”

  Sara scoffed and pushed her ankle boots off. Each shoe thumped against my floor, an indication that she’d remove far more, soon. “Maybe, but I don’t want her kind of entertainment around you.”

  “Why not?” I lifted my eyebrow and turned to her. The question came out like a challenge, not what I had intended.

  Sara stood and grinned at me. “Because I think it would end up being something like this.” She leaned forward and kissed me, her tongue dancing along my lips. I opened my mouth to her and opened my eyes a little. Watching her kiss was one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen. Her face always went soft and dreamy, though there was a bit of tension there this time, as if she was concentrating hard.

  I knew this would lead to sex, but I had a feeling she had something else in mind, as well. It wasn’t obvious, but she was thinking something. Every time I thought Sara couldn’t surprise me anymore, I found out I was wrong in the best possible way.

  The one thing I no longer thought about were all the women who’d been there before, selfish attempts to boost my own confidence until I was all ego but no real self-respect. I’d put a stop to their calls by telling them the truth – that the best woman in the world had come along. At the same time, I was thankful for all the practice I’d had with them. When Sara was screaming my name in complete ecstasy, it was easy to let pride swell through me. So maybe all that sleeping around had been good for something.

  What I had with Sara was perfect, from the sex to the talking to the way we could also sit in silence together. We’d opened up to one another completely. Yet here she was, throwing me off with what could only be a diabolical plan to make me crazy for her.

  “What are you doing?” I whispered when she finally stepped away from me, but she didn’t go far and anymore words were lost in an exhale as she drew her tongue along my neck.

  “Showing you what it’s like to want something so badly, you can’t stand it.” Her reply was muffled against my skin. “Keep your hands to yourself, sweetie. Do you think you can do that?”

  Could I? I wasn’t so sure, but I swallowed and nodded. “Anything you want.”

  She backed away from me, which surprised me more than anything. Wasn’t she about to tease me, to lick me from head to toe, until I was writhing
for her? Granted, that was my job with Sara, but still...

  No. She did a little spin and pushed the button on the clock radio that sat on the bedside table. A grimace crossed her face when the news came on, but she flicked her finger along the dial to pick up another station, with some throaty singer and upbeat tune backing her.

  Sara turned back toward me and brushed the backs of her hands up along her sides, while her hip rose and fell in time with the beat of the music. At first, I thought she was about to give me a lap dance, something I certainly wouldn’t turn down. My sweet Sara, swaying and showing herself off – the thought of it made a chill ripple through me, followed immediately by a shot of heat.

  Except there was nothing crass about her moves. No thrusting or grinding, so much as rolling and undulating, and sweeping arm movements. She strutted toward me, a little shimmy to her shoulders, and then bent over, one leg out, toe pointed, and face all the way down against her other leg. Maybe this was one she turned into a dirty stripper?

  Nope. She flipped her hair up and grinned at me. Everything about her movements was graceful and sensual. Dampness crept between my thighs, even though none of her clothes had come off. She twirled, arched her back, continued to pop and roll those gorgeous hips, and I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  All I wanted to do was devour Sara and her soft, swaying curves. There was nothing raunchy in the invitation she was offering me with every move she made. Oh yes, the dance definitely made me think of sex, but the tease was tempered by sweetness. I wracked my brain, trying to remember where I’d seen this kind of coquettish performance before, and couldn’t recall the word for it.

  She ran her hands down her sides again, propping them on her hips when the music stopped. Everything about her was flushed and disheveled, and absolutely glorious. Meanwhile, I was wetter than I’d ever been, desperate to touch her.

  I finally found the ability to speak again. “Where did you learn to do that?”

  She giggled and sauntered toward me. “Burlesque classes.”

  “That’s it! I knew I had a word in mind, but I couldn’t think of it. Seriously? They have a class to teach you how to be a burlesque dancer?” I’d wrap my mind around that later. For now, I wanted to get off so badly, it wasn’t funny. “Come here, Sara,” I told her. She liked being told what to do, something we’d happily established over the past few weeks, and I liked giving the orders.

  “Anything my girlfriend wants,” she answered in a breathy voice, all eyelash-fluttering innocence.

  As soon as she was in front of me, I swapped places with her. In a moment, she was the one down on the bed and I was standing over her, looking down at everything she had to offer. “I need you.”

  Her smile softened, but something about her eyes glowed. “I know.”

  With that statement, I knew, too. I pushed her dress up, exposing her sex. Even though there was another part of her I wanted my mouth on, I leaned down and kissed her furiously. When we first met, I had no idea I would feel this way, like I would starve without her. But Sara is it, the woman I want.

  I brought my kisses lower, over her breasts. Everything I did made her moan and wriggle. My body responded with tingling pressure that permeated every cell.

  “Do whatever you want to me,” she huffed out pleadingly, one of the sweetest sounds I’d ever heard.

  An idea popped into my mind, so I stopped at her stomach, rubbing my face against the fabric there. “Tell me what you want, Sara.” My hands tightened against her arms. I loved having her under me, begging for my attention. If only I could keep her this way every second of the day.

  “I...” Her hesitation turned me on more than anything. How could she be so shy about finding the words to share her wants and needs?

  “If you can’t say it, I won’t do it.” Offering her the combined promise and threat made me impatient with my own need. I lowered my hands from her arms to part her legs. “Maybe this will encourage you.”

  She circled her hips as if seeking my hands, but I kept them firmly on her thighs. Until she was able to articulate what she wanted, I wouldn’t reward her.

  The next sound she let out was somewhere between a moan and a whine, and she turned her head away from me. Maybe she’d never felt comfortable telling people her innermost desires, but I wanted to hear it. I moved so I was looking her in the eye and waited for her to acknowledge me.

  “You can trust me,” I told her. “You know that.”

  After a long moment, Sara nodded. “I want you to go down on me.”

  I rewarded her honesty by sliding the fingers of one hand up her thigh and tracing them up and down her folds. Like me, she was soaking wet, ready to go. I could probably touch her clit and she would go off like a firecracker. “Tell me more,” I whisper encouragingly.

  “I like...” She squirmed and slammed her eyes shut. “I like it when you’re rough, when you hold me open and get your face in there, like you can’t get enough.” Each successive word made a pink flush spread over her cheeks.

  “There. That wasn’t so bad, was it?” I cooed at her. “I like it, too.”

  No gentleness, then. I didn’t mind at all. Without wasting another moment, I fell to my knees, put my head between her thighs, and pushed my tongue into her. I wanted to be covered in her, something I always loved about being with a woman.

  Real sex wasn’t like some nice, tidy adult movie, with perfect camera angles, flicks of the tongue, and half-closed eyes. It was messy and wonderful, the way I could work her body. I dove in eagerly, tasting her sweetness, and propped my hands against her inner thighs. If I could, I would suck and lick at her for hours. Every time Sara came, she drenched my face with her ecstasy. I lost track of how many times I made her orgasm.

  Somehow, a normal daily routine – coming home from work – had turned into coming in a different way. I didn’t regret waiting so long to find that one person who could turn the mundane into something fun and special. I just wanted to make sure I didn’t screw it up.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sara

  It was hard to believe I’d gone from “nope” to Dylan’s girlfriend in only a couple of months. We’d kept most of our time together in private, with the exception of the birthday dinner with Paige and the models, and a few other dates. It wasn’t a conscious decision; simply the way our relationship evolved. Keeping it organic made it much easier to take each day as it came. Both Dylan and I had personal things to work through. We’d acknowledged that with one another, and that openness made all the difference in our relationship.

  There were still so many people who didn’t quite know about us, though. At least, not yet. I didn’t know if I was prepared for that to change anytime soon. Keeping it low-key seemed to be working just fine. I didn’t think we needed to share our love with the world.

  “Why not?” Jennifer asked when I called her from work with the latest update. She wanted to know everything Dylan and I did together, morning, noon, and night. I drew the line at intimate details, even though that was what she really wanted. It wasn’t all fun and games, having a legendary womanizer as a girlfriend. People who knew about us seemed to think they were somehow entitled to tidbits about our sex life, since Dylan was notorious for all her other escapades.

  I shuffled a few papers on my desk in an attempt to appear busy, in case anyone peeked into my office. “Because everyone knows her, and we’ve already done the public date thing. It did not go well the first time and we’ve had to keep it on the down-low all the other times. There are going to be people eager to pounce the more and more we step out together, especially after today.”

  Jennifer’s laughter didn’t reassure me. She had all the confidence of a chihuahua who thought it was a rottweiler. “Then why did you agree to her picking you up at the office for a lunch date?”

  For shallow, selfish reasons. So I would be seen with her, the very thing I also feared. I picked at the pile of random paperwork. No amount of fidgeting eased the uncomfortable swooping
in my belly. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s too late to change our plans. She’ll be here any minute.”

  “Then walk out with your head held high, because you’re the one who landed her. When people ask why she’s with you, just give them that Mona Lisa smile and say ‘Wouldn’t you like to know’.”

  I scoffed. First of all, that was easier said than done. Being the center of attention was enjoyable for some people, but not me. Second, I hated baiting people like that. All I wanted was to quietly go to lunch with my girlfriend, and then go back to work without the inevitable questions.

  As if the universe knew that was the most awkward possible moment for it to happen, Dylan appeared at my door. I should have known by the rising tide of gasps from down the hall. Who else would cause such a stir, but a celebrity, politician, or editor from our rival?

  “I gotta go,” I muttered into the phone, before setting it down. Jennifer’s voice squawked at me until I hung up. Her questions could wait. My date could not.

  “Hey, dollface.” Dylan leaned against the doorframe, all lanky confidence.

  “Did you seriously just call me ‘dollface’?” I asked, trying to ignore the tingles her presence evoked. That, mixed with the way my belly dipped, was not a recipe for disaster. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to eat.

  She grinned, eyes crinkling at the corners. “I did. Is it too much?”

  “Everything about you is too much.”

  “Good. I’d hate to be boring.” The exchange was so breezy and comfortable, yet here in the magazine’s very public offices for all employees to see. Dylan didn’t seem at all perturbed by the fact that she was in “enemy territory.”

  I swallowed the ball of nerves in my throat and picked up my purse. She was already here, so there was no backing out now. “Do you know where you want to go or should I pick a place?” I asked. Thinking about food did little to ease the tension tightening my belly. If anything, it turned it upside down.