Steamy Dorm

by Kristine Robinson

  The waiter came then and we ordered. She took our menus and hurried to get our drinks.

  “I’ve been doing it for four years but I just moved here six months ago to start a practice with my friend,” she told me. “I started after I graduated school for it.”

  “You’re very talented,” I said, remembering the feeling of her hands on my body. I couldn’t help but to think how her hands would feel in other places more intimate. It was in the back of my mind the whole time I was with her. “I’ve felt good all day. You could rub me down every day if you wanted.”

  “That’s good to know,” she said. “I try to make it as good for you as possible.”

  I raised my eyebrows and she laughed, clicking her tongue at me to behave myself. She was staring at my lips while she sipped her wine and I had no doubt she was thinking about kissing me; I knew that face, knew desire when I saw it. I was feeling the same thing as she was, stricken by her beautiful face, smitten by the feeling of her hands on me and the way she had looked at me when I’d first walked in, like she wanted me. She had looked that way throughout the massage encounter, too, and I felt the chemistry between us was palpable. I was imagining kissing her when she smiled at me, having noticed I was watching her mouth no doubt. I couldn’t help it.

  “So what gracious force brought you into my path?” I asked her, meeting her playful eyes. “Fate? Something else?”

  She shrugged delicately. “Whatever made me move here, I suppose,” she said. “A mysterious force of nature.”

  “Well, I am in debt to whatever it was,” I told her, enjoyed the sight of her blushing. Our eyes locked and held each other’s for a long moment while she regained her composure and smiled. She wasn’t used to being complimented. I wanted to shower her with them.

  “So you’re kind of a big deal,” she said, taking a sip of her wine. I laughed then, genuinely, because most of the women I had dated pretended not to know who I was or were shameless about their intentions. They flattered me and tried to woo me, but never before had I been interested in any of them enough to go forward.

  “So I’m told,” I said, chuckling. “I try not to let it get to my head.”

  “What is it exactly that you do?” she asked me. I waved her off.

  “A lot of boring meetings,” I said. “But I’d rather not think about that right now.”

  “What would you like to think about?” she asked, her voice curious and soft. “What’s on your mind?”

  “You,” I said, watching her face as our food was delivered. “Tell me what you want, Sandra.”

  She lowered her eyes to her food and looked a little shy then, which made my heart flutter in my stomach. She was so lovely it hurt to look at her, and I wondered again how I’d gotten so lucky as to end up with her as my therapist. It was like a good dream, better, being touched all over by her. I’d spent the whole time thinking about what it would feel like if her hands moved closer to my more intimate spots, if she caressed my ass or stroked my wanting flower.

  “I guess I just want to be happy,” she said, then looked at me as if asking for reassurance. Her vulnerability in that moment made me want her even more. It made me want to know everything about her, what her definition of happy was, if I could fill it. I knew I’d just met her but the connection had been immediate. I would spend all night with her if it meant learning her deepest secrets. We could stay in that bar forever. Better yet, I could take her home, make love to her and then listen to her spill while our heads were on the pillow together.

  “You’re not happy now?” I asked, frowning a bit.

  She laughed almost nervously. “I’m content. But it’s not the same as total joy, you know?”

  “Total joy,” I said, “and what’s that?”

  “I just want someone to need me as much as I need her,” she said, then bit into her lip as if thinking. “If that makes sense.”

  “It makes sense,” I assured her. “Don’t worry.”

  She held my eye for a long minute and smiled sweetly, gratefully. I thought about reaching forward to take her hand but realized it was probably too soon for that. Still, I wanted so badly to touch her in some way it ached. I felt like our contact before had been electric, like it had affected every part of me in an instant, like lightning. I needed to do it again more than anything.

  She changed the subject then. We talked as we ate, about our lives, our desires. We laughed and enjoyed ourselves throughout the date without bringing it back to anything remotely heavy. I had the feeling she’d been uncomfortable discussing what she wanted in a relationship with me on the first date, but also that it felt good for her to get that out there. I wanted nothing more than to make her enjoy herself, to put her at ease. I wanted to leave an impression on her that she would remember and think about fondly, should this not go further. I had a feeling it would, though, that we would need a lot of time to explore each other as thoroughly as we wanted to. She did look relaxed with me; her lips were parted and wine-stained, her body languid and natural in her seat. I could tell that she was enjoying herself, that her attraction to me was growing as mine was for her.

  I walked her home when we were finished eating. We took the long way, circling blocks for close to an hour before coming to the door of her friend’s apartment building. She looked at me almost shyly and I cupped her face in my hands; I thought about kissing her but thought better of it for now. I’d see her again, I knew, and it could wait. Instead, I looked in her eyes and smiled at her wide-eyed gaze.

  “Give me a shot at that ‘total joy,’ thing, alright?” I asked her. She nodded, then leaned in to kiss my cheek before disappearing inside.

  Chapter 3: Sandra

  I couldn’t stop smiling when I got inside. It had been the perfect date; we’d flirted, talked, and laughed all night, had enjoyed ourselves so much that we’d stretched the night out by going for a walk after dinner. We’d both had a couple glasses of wine and were giddy as we walked down the street. There were several times I’d wanted to kiss her but I held back, not wanting to presume too much. There had been times in my life where I’d felt like things were going well and I had been wrong, so I was going to wait it out to see how she was feeling. I had no doubt that there would be a second date. We had clicked so immediately and there was no way we wouldn’t see each other again. We had to, or else let this connection go unexplored. I couldn’t have that happen.

  Once I got home from Jamie’s, I undressed and climbed into bed, exhausted. I thought of Dominique and smiled, remembering the way her face lit up when she laughed, remembering those sensual lips and how soft they looked. I regretted not having kissed her then. I would be thinking about it endlessly until I did, imagining what she would taste like. I wondered if her red lips were sweet and ripe as cherries. It had been a long time since I had thought about anybody in this way, since I’d been so focused on a daydream of our time together. I couldn’t wait to hear from her again.

  It was my turn to open up shop the next morning, so I woke and got ready quickly, swooping my hair up into a messy ponytail. I dressed and barely glanced at myself in the mirror before heading out the door. I smelled the flowers before I even opened the door. I was greeted inside by dozens of flowers—hundreds, maybe—of every conceivable size and color. I knew before looking at the card that they were from Dominique. I looked around, dumbfounded, and felt my heart beating fast. Nobody had ever done anything half as romantic for me before or half as thoughtful. I was overwhelmed with emotion and gratitude for her.

  When Jamie walked in, she looked around, then grinned at me and gave me a high-five.

  “You must have done something right,” she said.

  I laughed and brushed her off, but was secretly pleased that Dominique had seemed to enjoy herself as much as I had. I wondered when I’d hear from her again—we had exchanged numbers and she promised to call. I’d been checking my phone every so often just in case, although I didn’t expect her to get back to me so soon. Still, a text or a voice
mail would have made my day. I couldn’t wait to get off to talk to her but knew that it would drive me crazy to wait by the phone.

  The day seemed to go by fairly quickly due to my loaded schedule. Every client who came in commented on the flowers, made small talk with me about dating and romance while I gave them their massages. As I was locking up for the night, I turned to see a black stretch limo parked behind me in the parking lot, the back window rolled down to reveal Dominique in a pink strapless dress holding a bottle of champagne and smiling at me.

  “Get in,” she said, but I only stared at her and the car, shocked by the gesture. I was frozen until Jamie nudged me and gave me a push in the direction of the limo.

  “Did you like the flowers?” Dominique said when I slid inside the car. I felt underdressed and messy compared to her but she didn’t seem to mind, in fact she was looking at me with such a charmed look on her face that I was taken aback. Her attraction was obvious in her half-lidded gaze and it hypnotized me, made me want her just as much. Those eyes made me forget what I was wearing and the fact that I’d barely glanced at myself in a mirror all day; they told me that I was beautiful anyway, something I didn’t always feel on my own.

  “I loved them,” I breathed in awe. “And this is perfect. I’m just worried you’re doing too much for me.”

  Dominique gazed at me with those lovely eyes, then leaned forward and placed a tender kiss on my lips, lingering for just a second. I thought about leaning forward and continuing to kiss her when she pulled back. I would finally taste her mouth the way I wanted. Instead, I watched her lips curve into a smile.

  “You let me be the judge of that,” she said, her eyes sparkling. I smiled back at her, unable to help myself. My lips tingled where she’d kissed me and I licked them, drawing her attention back to my mouth. She leaned in and brushed her lips against mine, almost kissing me again, but stopping just before I could respond. It drove me crazy but I didn’t pursue it. I wanted to wait until she was entirely ready for me to taste her mouth to do so.

  I didn’t know where we were going until we got there. We were on Chesapeake Bay, on a pier with a small restaurant at the end of it. We went inside and I noticed that we had the place to ourselves. There was a table set up in the center under a skylight that showed the beautiful full moon above us. There were deep violet roses on the table and a woman playing the violin in the corner. We took our seats and Dominique gestured for the server to bring us out a bottle of wine. She opened it and poured some in a glass for each of us.

  I sipped mine, gazing at Dominique over the rim. She was so beautiful. Everything about the setting was perfect—the lights were dim, the music soft, and my date was positively radiant. The opulence of it made me slightly uneasy though. I wasn’t used to such treatment and I really didn’t want her to spend more on me than I was worth. Still, I decided to trust that she would do what she wanted and not what she thought I expected. She seemed sensible enough, despite her lavish treatment, to think and choose for herself.

  We drank wine and ate, the whole world melting around us so that it was just the two of us in existence, no servers, no musician. When we were finished and had sat there for a moment just talking, she took my hand and led me to dance, wrapping her arm around my waist. She pulled my body against hers and we danced to the soft sounds of the violin. I couldn’t help but to respond to her closeness. She smelled wonderful and her body was soft and lush against mine. The v between my legs grew swollen and wet and I felt my nipples press against the fabric of my bra. My arm was wrapped around her and I could feel the soft skin of her back on mine, tempting me to touch more of her, reminding me of when I had. Just the thought of that made me hotter, made me want that even more.

  “Is this what you had in mind when you spoke of ‘total joy?’” Dominique asked me quietly, gazing into my eyes. I felt weak in the knees, overwhelmed with emotion. I nodded and she tilted her face forward and took my mouth in a kiss. It was sweet and warm, her lips decadent, but when I began to respond her mouth grew more insistent. I parted my lips for her and she slipped her tongue inside, tasting mine with it, holding my body close. There was a hint of lust in the way her body was pressed to mine; her hips were right up against me so that if I moved I might brush against the most intimate part of her. It made me kiss her harder, to wrap my arms around her neck and give her all I had. I let out a sigh against her lips and she pulled back and smiled at me, then kissed me again with more tenderness, then again one more time.

  We danced for a bit longer in silence, simply holding each other until the violinist began to pack up. I gave the driver instructions to my place, no longer afraid for her to see where I lived, and we headed in that direction. When we pulled up to the curb, I leaned over and pressed my mouth to hers, inviting her inside with a kiss. She got out of the car and followed me inside, shutting the door behind her. I led her into my bedroom and she sat on the edge of the bed, looking around.

  “I’m sorry it’s so small,” I said nervously. She was probably so unused to the lack of space, the inherent clutter of a small apartment.

  “Come here,” Dominique breathed, pulled me against her. She brought her hand to the back of my neck and pulled me down for a kiss. “It’s fine. It’s perfect. You look good everywhere.”

  I responded to her kiss in full, sucking on her lips, tasting her mouth with my tongue. She began to kiss my neck and I tilted my head to one side to give her better access to the soft skin there. She reached down and toyed with the hem of my dress, then pulled it up and paused her kisses to pull it above my head. Her hand reached around my body to unclasp my bra and when she pulled it off my nipples were stiff from the suddenness of the cool air. I was left only in my panties with her sitting in front of me, her lips parted, watching my face as she wrapped them around one of my nipples. She sucked on it gently, flicking it with her tongue, barely teasing it. She switched to the other one and did the same, feather soft licking, and then suddenly tightened her lips and applied pressure to the sensitive tip of my nipple. I bit my lip and watched her through my lashes, the v between my legs growing hotter by the second as she nibbled and licked. At the same time as she played with my breasts with her mouth she was pulling down my panties, pushing them down over my ass to the floor where I kicked them off and away from me. And then it was my turn and I had pushed her down against the bed and was unbuttoning the front of her dress. She had on no bra or panties and so was bare beneath me. I wanted to suck her sweet brown nipples, wanted to touch her all over, but she stopped me by sitting up and pulling me onto the bed with her, flipping us both over so that I was lying on my back beneath her.

  “Me first,” she said, grinning, a devilish look in her eye. She kissed me again and then moved to my neck, nipping at the skin there, then my shoulders and my breasts. She teased my nipples between her thumbs and forefingers as she finished her descent down my body and spread my legs so that my folds were clearly visible to her. She put her mouth on my sex and dipped her tongue inside me, gathering moisture to spread up and over my entire mound with the flat of her tongue. The feeling of her mouth there, of her warmth breath against my skin made me moan aloud. She parted my folds with her fingers and spread me wide open so that she could see everything, including the sensitive pearl that was throbbing between my legs. Her tongue lapped at it, two or three strokes, before moving lower again to tease my opening. I knew I was soaking wet for her and could tell that she loved it. She ate me hungrily, sucked my bud between her lips, held my legs down when they started to shake. When she slipped two of her long, slim fingers inside of me and began to pump them in and out while she taunted my bud with her tongue, I felt my whole body tense up with pleasure. I was moaning loudly, my hands in her silky hair, and my hips were bucking against her face, humping upward to get closer to her mouth. She moaned, her mouth vibrating against my sex, as I came on her fingers, my channel clenching and squeezing them tight.

  She lapped tenderly at my opening as my body calmed down and the
n climbed back over me, taking my mouth in a kiss that tasted of my sex. The taste—warm and sweet—was so erotic it made my body respond even though I’d just come. I kissed her back, my tongue eager for more of my own essence, and she began to rub against me, her mound on my thigh. I wanted to lick her as she had done me but instead she parted my legs with her knee and settled between them. I reached my head up to take one of her small breasts in my mouth and played with the nipple with my tongue, then switched to the other one as she moaned and positioned her hips over mine. The silky wet skin of her lower lips slipped against mine as she began to grind her hips back and forth against me. When she moved, our folds rubbed together, our buds grinding up against each other. Our soaking wet mounds slipped back and forth as we moaned. I lifted my hips in time with hers, my hands grabbing onto her ass to pull her as close to me as possible. I held her close as we rubbed ourselves against each other and I felt a gush of moisture over my own folds as she came with a whimper, continuing to grind against me until I could follow her.

  But we weren’t done yet. I hadn’t gotten to taste her, and it had been one of the first things on my mind since I’d seen her on my table at work. Once she’d caught her breath, I turned her over so that she was beneath me and started touching her folds with my fingers as I spent as much time on her breasts as I wanted to. I sucked the nipples, bit into them, rolled them between my lips while stroking her bud with my fingertip. I could have made her come by that alone, I could tell; she was so responsive, so eager. Instead, my mouth met hers for one more kiss before I found myself with my face between her legs, staring at her glistening wet mound, at the precious folds that were pink and swollen and ready for my mouth. I planted a hot, open-mouthed kiss over it and then slipped my tongue inside, up and down her slit. The taste of her was so raw, so feminine and sweet that it made my mouth water for more. I traced her opening with a small circular flick of my tongue and then dipped inside, curling upward, scooping out a mouthful of the delicious juices she was making. I spread them over her bud, making her moan softly and spread her legs further for me. I repeated my motion again and again while stroking her thighs with my hands. I lapped at her bud, flicked it with the tip of my tongue, teased it relentlessly until her hips were begging my face to keep going. I paid plenty of attention to the rest of her folds, too, toying with her, tasting every bit of her that I could get. I aimed a finger inside of her and slipped it in, pushing it in and out of her. I added a finger and could feel her tight channel stretching around me. I raised my face to watch hers as she writhed underneath me. She met my eye and bit her lip, silently pleading with me to finish what I’d started, to make her come in my mouth. I did just that, latching onto her bud again while I fingered her, licking it in firm strokes through her pleasure.