On the one hand, his roommate was not due to arrive for the fall semester until the upcoming weekend. On the other, there were boxes everywhere, since he'd returned not long ago himself. The place was a mess, not at all suitable for entertaining a woman he desperately wanted to impress. He experienced a moment of sheer horror when he recalled the several issues of Playboy adorning the coffee table in the living room. The men's magazine was one of his few indulgences, and he rationalized spending those sixty cents each month by telling himself he spent next to nothing on any other form of entertainment.
What finally triggered his mutinous vocal chords was the mental image of Vivian in his bathrobe. They, fueled by his raging libido and in cahoots with his lips and tongue, overcame decades of cultural conditioning to blurt, “Why, yes. Yes, it is. Would you like to..."
"Why, yes. Yes, I would.” Vivian replied without waiting for him to finish his invitation.
Lupe, too, acted before he could regain his equilibrium. “Let me put those sandwiches in a box for you two to finish later.” She flipped the dishtowel over one shoulder and, with a plate in each hand, scurried off to the kitchen. The fact that Lupe, for whom he held an enormous respect, clearly approved of his companion made it far easier for Eduardo to succumb.
He turned toward Vivian, who was grinning at him with such mischief in her eyes that he could do naught but grin back. “I do believe I've just been on the receiving end of a one-two punch. Ordinarily, I would take exception to such blatant manipulation, but I believe that would be downright foolish in this instance."
"A wise decision,” she shot back. “I knew you were a smart man."
Lupe returned with a brown paper bag in hand and thrust it toward him. By its weight, Eduardo surmised it contained considerably more than just their untouched sandwiches. Hopefully, some of her mouthwatering alfajores. He resisted the impulse to peek inside, opting to share the discovery with Vivian in the privacy of his abode. After offering his profuse thanks, he turned to Vivian. “Shall we?"
"Oh, we most definitely shall,” she replied, laughing as she waved farewell to Lupe.
They stepped onto M Street and into the day's fading light. The afternoon's passionate energy added to an already sultry evening. The temperature had dropped slightly during their brief time indoors, but the humidity still made the air heavy. It was a sensual, lethargic atmosphere.
Eddie positioned himself between her and the street, and even in the absence of puddles from which she could be further splashed, Vivian recognized the gentlemanly gesture. He was a gallant one, her Eddie. Her Eddie, she mused. Apparently, her subconscious was already a step ahead of her. It—or some other force—knew this man would play a pivotal role in her life.
Eduardo controlled the urge to glance down. Not because he didn't want to steal a look at Vivian's ass and legs, but because it would distract him from what had become his first priority. He needed to get those magazines off the coffee table. If she saw them, any respect he had gained in her eyes would evaporate.
A voice inside his head disputed that, pointing out that a woman as worldly and forward as Vivian would surely not be shocked by nude photographs, but Eduardo ignored it. Losing her esteem was not a risk he was willing to take.
The voice continued, asking him what risks he did have in mind. He slammed a mental door on the voice before it could ask even more embarrassing questions.
"We turn right at the next corner, then down half a block. My apartment is on the third floor. I must apologize, but there is no elevator."
"Do I look like I'm afraid of a few stairs?"
He tried to formulate a reply without saying the first thing that came to mind about how she looked and settled for a throat-clearing cough. Her fingers ran across the back of his hand, and he nearly dropped the bag due to the impulse to reach for her before she could get away. She laughed, apparently catching the momentary action, perhaps due to the crinkling of the paper bag as he tightened his grip to prevent it from falling to the pavement. They finished the journey with their fingers interwoven, and Eduardo enjoyed a vivid image of their lives similarly entwined.
"It's this one, with the dark red door and shutters.” He automatically hurried up the steps of the brownstone to open the door for her, and she smiled warmly at the gesture as she preceded him. This time he could not resist looking down at her curves and the shapely legs beneath her thin, summer frock. He hoped his gulp was not audible and closed his eyes for a moment to gather his thoughts.
The sound of her shoes on the wood stairs echoed in the short entrance hall. Opening his eyes, he saw her halfway up the stairs. From this angle, even more of her legs were visible. He knew that he was staring but found himself unable to look away, a fact that was reinforced as she cleared her throat. Forcing his gaze upward, he made eye contact. She was smiling wickedly. There was no doubt she had noticed his intemperate indiscretion.
"Third floor, you said?"
"Um, yes, yes. On the right. Here, allow me."
Eduardo rushed by her, trying unsuccessfully to avoid rubbing against her as he passed. He could have sworn she leaned into him, but knew that to be unlikely. His imagination and libido must have been playing tricks on him.
Putting the key in the lock and opening the door, he suddenly realized his dilemma. As a gentleman, he should wait for her to enter. However, by doing so, he would give her a chance to see the magazines. He studiously avoided glancing in that direction, fearing it would draw her eyes.
"The bathroom is just down that hallway. First door on the left. There's a bathrobe on the hook behind the door. If you would like to.... “He couldn't bring himself to finish the suggestion that she remove her clothing, even though it was the reason they'd come to his apartment. Or, perhaps it was the excuse. “While you're changing, I'll take the time to clear the boxes off the table, and we can sit there comfortably to finish our meal. I don't have a kitchen table, I'm afraid."
"Thank you. The couch and coffee table will be just fine. I'll be back in a flash."
Vivian started toward the bathroom, and for a split second, Eduardo thought he'd dodged the bullet. As she passed the sofa, however, she looked down.
"Oh, wonderful! I've been wanting to read this. Do you mind?"
In his panic, it took him a moment to realize that not only was she not staring at him like he was a lecherous deviant, she was actually holding one of the magazines and looking at it with great interest.
"Um, no. Of course not."
Vivian flipped the issue open and began scanning it intently. “Malcolm X,” she explained, lifting the magazine to point to the table of contents. “He's a fascinating but misguided man."
Eduardo watched as she nonchalantly flipped past the pictures of naked women to reach the article in question and wondered just what he had gotten himself into. The woman's mind and body fit his every fantasy, but her behavior and attitude flew in the face of everything he'd been taught to expect. The prospect excited him far more than it scared him.
She dropped the magazine back onto the stack and smiled. “I'll have to finish that later. You have no idea how difficult it is for a respectable woman to get her hands on ... well, on something like that ... without causing a scandal. Not that I'm overly concerned with being respectable, mind you, but I do have a sense of pragmatism when it comes to such things. A woman has to know when to rock the boat and when to let the current carry it along. Anyway, first things first. I'll get out of this sticky dress. Be right back."
With that, she disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Eduardo's boat rocking in a storm-tossed sea of hormones and hope. He took a deep breath, releasing his white-knuckled grip on the bag containing their food. Rather than hiding the magazines, he now merely pushed them aside to clear a space for their repast. Lupe, bless her heart, had indeed included dessert.
Dashing into the kitchen, he grabbed a couple plates, utensils, and a bottle of Semillón that had been in his cupboard longer than he cared to admit. When he return
ed to the living room, he heard Vivian's voice drifting down the hall. Eduardo smiled to the sound of her singing, thinking he could get quite used to her presence. He couldn't place the song at first, although it was familiar.
"Tonight, tonight. It all began tonight. I saw you and the world went away."
His heart skipped a beat at the lyrics from the popular musical. It seemed too much to hope that she felt the same about their meeting as he did. The sound of the bathroom door opening jarred him from his musings, and he nearly dropped the wine when Vivian turned the corner. His first reaction was below the belt, but it was coupled with an urge to cross himself and utter a prayer of gratitude.
"Vivian, this time I truly do owe you an apology.” He held up his hand to stop her when, as expected, she started to protest. “I hadn't believed you could look more beautiful to me, but that was before I saw you in my bathrobe. You are breathtaking."
Her laughter washed over him like sunshine. She crossed the room in a few short strides and folded herself into his arms. “Kiss me, you charming man."
He answered with his instincts rather than his inhibitions, pulling her close and lowering his lips to hers without the hesitation or caution recommended by the voice in his head. Once again, he silenced it, banishing it with the power of his desire for the woman in his arms. He placed his hands at her waist and crushed her against him while he savored her taste: a slight hint of Coca-Cola, wax from her lipstick mingling with the salt of a sweltering afternoon in the sun, and an unidentifiable tang that was simply Vivian. No other flavor came to mind.
She gave herself to him with the same abandon, not resisting with the false modesty of the other women he had kissed—or attempted to kiss—with such intensity. Vivian returned his fervor, crushing his lips in turn and allowing a small moan to escape. It vibrated from her throat to his lips and well beyond. The small quake shook the foundations of his already shaky reserve. His tongue slipped out and along the line of her upper lip, surprising him but not her. She met it with her own, twisting around it and inviting him to take possession of her mouth as he had her lips.
Eddie responded where Eduardo would have demurred. Passing inside to embrace hers, his tongue rested against the cool line of her teeth and savored the surrounding heat, which rivaled that of the late August afternoon.
Vivian let herself hang in his arms such that the gentle fall onto the cushions of the couch was accomplished more by gravity than grace. They were both too enraptured by the oral dance above to pay attention to their footing below, although Eddie's hands did release her to brace himself on the edge of the couch, easing his fall. Thus, his weight settled over her gently and did not disturb the joining of their lips.
As they landed, his hands brushed skin. Gasping in apology, he pulled his head up to discover that the robe had parted, and his hand rested against her side. He began to mumble an excuse and reached for the terrycloth to cover her, only to find Vivian's hand preventing him.
She placed his fingers back on the soft skin of her belly and opened the garment further. Eddie's eyes widened as the white robe's edge caught against the tip of her breast. A low rumble of pleasure emerged from deep in his chest as her nipple, a dusky rose against the untanned paleness of her breast, slipped into view.
Vivian moved her hand to his chin, lifting it to bring his gaze into contact with her own. Smiling as his eyes widened further, she took his hand and placed it over her breast.
She caught the back of his neck with the other hand and pulled him down to renew his kisses, all the while keeping her left hand over his right, forcing it to remain in contact with her naked chest. His lips attacked hers again with gusto, but his hand hovered, the palm only brushing against her nipple. It felt sensational, but knowing that it was due to hesitancy rather than intent to arouse, she forced her point. Squeezing his fingers, she brought her shoulder up until he had no choice but to grasp her breast with the whole of his hand instead of treating it like he were holding an egg.
She nipped at his bottom lip, and he instinctively squeezed, searching for balance. Vivian moaned again as his strong fingers dug in. Eddie seemed to take courage from this, and she felt his thumb slide around the curve where chest and tit met. Her nipple twisted against his palm and hardened at the sensation. Emboldened, he let his thumb slip inside and across the hard point, eliciting a louder noise from her throat.
She released his neck and brought her fingers to his collar, working at the knot of his black tie and pulling it away from his neck. When she had created some slack, she went after the top button of his white oxford shirt.
"What are you doing?” he asked between kisses, the words separated by shuddering breaths.
"You are way overdressed, señor. It's impolite to show up a lady in such a manner."
Eddie's laughter rang through the room before abruptly halting. He looked down at her, searching her face before he started speaking in that formal tone again.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make light of the..."
Vivian shut his mouth with a kiss, and his words died off into a mumble. She continued to kiss him aggressively for a moment, then pulled away and placed her hands on either side of his face, directing his gaze into hers.
"Eddie, I will never be offended by your laughter when it was my intent to evoke it. We're supposed to be having fun. I'm not angry at you."
He visibly relaxed, tension melting from his shoulders.
"Well, then let me achieve a more equitable arrangement regarding the clothing.” As he spoke, he leaned back on his knees and pulled at his tie. Soon, it was undone, and he began unbuttoning the shirt. Vivian helped, pulling the tail from his slacks and working from the bottom up. As their fingers met in the middle of his chest, he turned his wrists over, and she flipped open the buttons on them, noting that the shirt had slits for cufflinks. They, like the man kneeling in front of her, were quickly becoming an anachronism. She reminded herself to enjoy his chivalry while simultaneously pushing him to disregard it. His care and caution were charming, but there was nothing quite like a lover so overcome by his desire that he forgot all sense of propriety. And Vivian wanted this man, this lover, to claim her like none she'd ever known.
When she finished, he pulled the shirt back and looked around for a moment before letting it fall to the floor next to the coffee table. Vivian laughed at his concern over the proper placement of a shirt in an apartment filled with unpacked boxes as she began pulling at the T-shirt that he still wore.
His eyebrows rose as he made eye contact with her, and she motioned for the undershirt to be pulled off. He blushed slightly but did as he was told. As it was pulled over his head, Vivian reached for his belt. At her first touch of the buckle, he jerked backward, nearly toppling to the floor. The undershirt finally cleared his head, and the slight pink of a moment earlier was consumed by a deep red of embarrassment. Unwilling to give him a chance to talk himself back into shyness, she again reached for the belt buckle. This time, he froze.
If he moved, he feared she would stop, something he most assuredly did not want to happen, despite the reservations implanted by his upbringing. Never in his experience, albeit limited to awkward fumblings in the dark, had a woman been so insistent that he touch her.
The women with whom he'd been intimate seemed to put up with his advances as if they were something to endure, not to enjoy. While the experiences were pleasurable in a purely physical sense, they left much to be desired in emotional satisfaction. Granted, that was how most women were raised to behave. To that end, they did not disappoint. Vivian, on the other hand, wanted him. Him! Now! It both thrilled and terrified him.
At the forefront of his mind, however, was the overwhelming desire to please her; to ensure that this fascinating woman got what she wanted, how and when she wanted it. That factor, more than his painfully erect cock, ensured his compliance.
Vivian's murmured yes as the hasp gave way did as much for his confidence as her enthusiasm. She gave a strong yank, and the
belt pulled free of its lugs. His trousers immediately puddled around his ankles, making him wish he'd had the foresight to first remove his loafers. Kicking them off, and his pants along with them, he pushed them aside with one foot where they joined the oxford shed earlier.
Standing there in his sock garters with his boxer shorts tented before him, Eddie felt utterly ridiculous. That is, until he caught the expression of desire on Vivian's face. Contrary to everything he'd been conditioned to believe about such a forward woman, there was nothing lurid or tawdry about her. Any shame at being nearly naked with a woman he met just hours ago evaporated in the rightness of the moment.
He knew then that this was a first in more ways than one. This woman represented much more than merely sex. In her, he saw his future. Their future. Images of adventure in far off lands, lots of laughter, and plenty of exuberant sex flashed through his mind. His breath caught in his throat as her fingers wove under the elastic waistband of his shorts.
For a moment, Vivian thought he was going to let her remove his boxers without hesitation. She fully expected him to stop her, and he did once he realized her intent. His next words, however, were unexpected.
"Ah, now, sweet Vivian, we are about to have yet another clothing inequity."
He didn't remove her fingers. Instead, his hands reached for the robe, and he gently pushed it off her shoulders.
I must be dreaming, he thought as she pulled her arms from the sleeves. The image before him seemed to have sprung from one of the magazines on the coffee table. Vivian was easily as beautiful as the women in the centerfolds. The combination of her looks, her intense vitalidad, and her determined desire did not seem possible outside of fiction. Only the smooth heat of her skin beneath his fingertips allowed him to dispel his disbelief.
He sank to his knees beside the couch and captured her breast in his mouth, sucking greedily. Her hands ran through the short bristle of his buzz cut, as though searching for a hold by which to compel him to take more of her into his mouth.
Coming Together: At Last, Volume One Page 3