by Harper Bliss
Not a lot of people prefer the outside, stifling air to the air-conditioned one inside the hotel. When we exit through a door opposite the hotel’s entrance, the sky is black and what I can see from the hotel garden eerily silent.
“Perfect,” Joanne says, and even that short word sends a shiver up my spine. “Come on.”
She leads the way to the right, still following the tiled garden path. After only a few minutes outside, the mugginess of the air affects my breath, and I feel a few drops of sweat travel down the small of my back.
“Damn, it’s hot.” Joanne starts shrugging off her blazer. We’re both still dressed in full conference attire.
I follow suit and slip my arms out of my jacket. Already, the back of my blouse clings to my skin.
Joanne stops to scan our surroundings, her head moving from left to right. “Oh yes,” she says, as the movement of her head stops. I follow her gaze and my eyes land on a cluster of five trees behind a few low bushes. The spot is dark, but not entirely secluded.
With renewed vigor in her stride, Joanne marches onward, and, my legs already going a little weak, I trot behind her.
“Perfect. Don’t you think so?” she asks, while assessing the trees. Which one will she shove me up against?
I can only nod, and wonder when the tables turned. The second she walked into our room again this morning and cast her eyes on what I was doing. By far, the most defining moment of our re-acquaintance. That split second changed everything, gave her the upper hand. A hand she’d been vying for since we met at the bar, but I would never have given her had she kept up her antics. Now, I’m all too eager, and she knows it. She knows she has me. She’s known it ever since she perched next to me on the bed this morning.
She points her thumb at the tree in the middle of four others, as though planted here only for the purpose of having Joanne fuck me against it. “That one it is,” she says. “Why don’t you take off your blouse and have a little rest against it, Gail.” An undertone of menace has slipped into her voice. A tone I’ve never heard before, not even when she caught someone cheating at an exam years ago, giving the person the earful he deserved, but always keeping a certain lightness to her tone. This is different. It’s not all menace though. Through the darkness, I can hear the desire inside of her finding a voice.
I do as she says, unbuttoning my blouse quickly and positioning myself against the tree as requested.
“Come on, Gail. Nothing I haven’t seen before underneath that bra. Don’t be shy now.” The memory of her eyes on me this morning hits me again with full force. Much more than the thought of her fingers inside of me, it makes my blood race through my veins, heating up my flesh.
Swiftly, I unhook my bra because, frankly, I can’t wait to expose my breasts to the heavy Atlanta air.
“That’s more like it.” Joanne doesn’t come for me immediately, instead she stands there for a while, eyeing my naked flesh. My nipples grow rock hard under her gaze. For all the staring she’s done at my naked body, she has barely touched me. It’s a strange sensation to have had a woman’s fingers inside of me, but not having had her caress my breasts, or even lay a finger on my belly.
There’s a faint hush of traffic in the distance, and a light rustling in some bushes a bit further away, but apart from that, there’s not a sound around us. Even if there were, it’s just me and Joanne in this moment. Her eyes glitter in the darkness as they roam across my skin. She steps closer, and I suck in a shallow breath.
“Well.” There’s that dark hint in her voice again, even noticeable in such a short word. It’s enough for me to know that she’s just as aroused as I am. “I can’t help but think this is what you wanted all along, Gail.”
Kissing is always considered such an intimate act, but, to me, staring into someone’s eyes, not averting my gaze but really looking back, is just as much an act of closeness—if not more so. I gaze deep into Joanne’s eyes, into the darkness of them. They’re not just dark because of the absence of light, there’s something else there. More than shadows. More than desire.
She brings her hand up to my chin, stroking a finger along my jawbone. “Is this what you dreamed of?” she asks.
My only reply is a further silent stare into her eyes. I can hardly give her the satisfaction of a response to that question. It would undo me instantly.
“There’s no use in playing hard to get anymore.” Joanne’s finger trails lower, hovering over my collarbone now. “I saw you. I saw how much you wanted me when you spread your legs the second I left the room. Is that how much you want me, Gail? Hm?”
It’s the last ‘hm’ that gets to me the most, that connects with the fire in my belly and sets it free to travel throughout my flesh.
Her finger dives even lower and has reached the curve of my breast. My nipples are so eager for her touch. For a caress or, even better, a daring pinch.
“Tell me,” she insists, not just with her words, but by catching my nipple between two fingers and squeezing oh-so softly.
“If you want more, tell me now.”
“Yes,” I hiss, lust tumbling down my stomach. “I want you.”
She nods, a smug little smile on her face. “Good. We’re getting somewhere.” With that, her fingers lock hard around my nipple, pressing it into a hard, taut mass of exquisite pain. Meanwhile, her eyes are still on me, still blazing fire—and I blaze right back with mine.
“I’m going to undress you,” she says, in between violent pinches. “You’re going to stand here naked against this tree, for anyone who wishes to see. But mostly for me, Gail. I knew you wanted me from the second you offered to switch rooms. Hell, I knew it twenty years ago, when you came to my class all coy, but really, it couldn’t have been more obvious.”
She releases my nipple from her painful grasp, and her hand thunders down to the button of my trousers. With a fast, confident flip, she opens it, not waiting long to lower the zipper.
“Kick off your shoes,” she commands, and, as though in a trance during which I have to automatically obey every command she utters, I heel them off. It leaves me standing a bit shorter than her, but not by much. Enough to make me feel smaller than her though, or at least in a complete submissive state.
She lets her gaze drop from mine for an instant while she guides my pants off my legs. Before she hikes down my underwear, she runs a finger across the soaked panel.
“Let’s see how wet you are for me, huh?” These words coming from Professor Ferguson’s mouth leave me wet like a river. “Damn.” There’s something new in her voice again. Awe? Surprise at exactly how drenched I am for her? “Jesus.”
Next thing I know, my knickers are part of the pile of clothing next to my feet. And there I stand: completely naked, and for no one else but her. Although, of course, I can’t be sure. For all I know, the man I was sitting next to at dinner might be gazing out of his window, casually staring into the garden, only to find me on full display. But I believe we’re hidden enough. Still, the hint of doubt arouses me, and contributes greatly to that hot river running between my thighs.
“Spread your legs,” Joanne says, her voice shot to pieces, and that ignites an even fiercer kind of throbbing in my clit. “Bring your hands above your head and hold on to the tree.”
Again, I do as I’m told. Positioning myself the way she asks and, in the process, offering myself up to her. My breasts jut out and my cunt is completely accessible to her.
“Enjoy the show, Gail.” Her eyes fixed on mine again, Joanne starts undoing the buttons of her own blouse. She doesn’t exactly go about it in a sexy, slow manner. There’s an urgency to her movements indicating that her own arousal is growing as well, that she’s riding this wave of desire just as much as I am.
I haven’t seen her naked yet, and my eyes are glued to her hands, to how they methodically unbutton her blouse and let it slide off her arms. Her bra is maroon-colored and, when she bares herself, her breasts are pale orbs in the darkness. Small domes I want to touch, cherish
, kiss for hours. But I do have a strong tendency to believe I will have to wait quite some time before that happens.
She doesn’t take off her pants. Instead, she brings her hands to her waist and stands there defiantly, as if asking, “Do you like what you see?” She doesn’t say it out loud, and this question doesn’t beg an answer. I started liking what I was seeing a long time ago, the wetness between my legs can attest to that.
It’s also not the curvy shape of her breasts that arouses me the most, or their delicate paleness, or how hard her nipples poke upward; it’s that she bared them to me at all. Of course, we have no manual here. She’s playing by her rules, and hoping—gauging along the way—that they align with mine. So far, they do.
When she comes for me, I’m already half there. I’m already half-suspended in that space leading to momentary oblivion, in that frame of mind where I know no boundaries, that addictive state of surrender, of giving it all up to someone else. I can feel my clit throb between my legs, reaching into the hot, thick air that surrounds it, as though vying for attention. I know she won’t touch it. I know women like Joanne. It’s only my luck that she turned out to be like this. But perhaps it was there all along since the moment we clasped eyes on each other again. Perhaps the opportunity presented itself in that instant when I addressed the reception clerk and offered up my room and, in offering that, she knew I was offering much more. Last night in the hotel bar is a distant memory now. Foreplay almost gone wrong. Or maybe it was part of her plan all along.
In situations like this, I’m not always the one submitting. I give as good as I get and because of that I try to guess what she’ll do next. In my head, I’m still trying to outsmart her. Additionally, because I’m familiar with the thrill of being on the other side, my arousal increases.
“I have a question for you, Gail.” To my utter surprise, her finger finds my clit. She rubs through my wetness creating tiny, tight circles around it, making me gasp for air instantly. “No need to raise your hand if you know the answer.” A small chuckle in my ear. “How long can you resist? Show me now, and I’ll give you everything I’ve got.”
Is she asking me not to come? While her finger starts applying more pressure? It would be easier if I hadn’t shown her how I liked it this morning—and if she wasn’t pressing her breasts into mine when she asked this of me.
“Save yourself for the big one, Gail,” she says. “I promise I won’t disappoint you.” With that, she locks her lips on mine, trapping my tortured moan in her mouth, and my knees buckle. If I was half-way there earlier, I’m only one quarter removed now. Joanne’s kiss floors me more than anything, more than I had expected. I want to simultaneously push my pelvis against her, and pull myself away. The tree is hard against the delicate skin of my behind, and will certainly leave scratches the way she has me squirming against it. In the air, I smell late summer, a faint whiff of flowers, Joanne’s perfume, and trees. Although I’m not even sure trees can be smelled. I’m not sure of anything anymore, except that if she keeps kissing me like this, and rubbing my clit like that, I’ll come in a matter of seconds.
But then, she releases me, leaving me both frustrated and relieved. Even though she promised me bigger things, I feel deprived of something in that moment. I’m guessing that’s exactly how she wants it.
“Good girl,” she says, in a husky voice. Because of our kiss, her lipstick has been smeared across her lips and the skin around it, giving her a dirty, devilish look. And in that instant, I wish the tables were turned. Am I too far gone to shove her up against a tree? I can barely still stand on my legs—and she did an excellent job of making me submit. Would she even allow it? The thought makes me go dizzy again.
One thing, however, is for sure: the woman standing in front of me, about to ‘give me all she has’ is no longer Professor Ferguson, my Applied Economics teacher of twenty years ago. What I see now, is a woman possessed by shadows, by the desire to take something from me while giving me everything. In her eyes, I see how much she needs this. How much she wants me. It’s in the slant of her head, in how her eyes have narrowed and, now, also, in the frenzy with which she unbuttons her pants. She lets them drop to the ground, no doubt soiling them, and kicks them off her feet, along with her shoes. I never thought she’d go fully naked for me, not here. She’s still wearing her panties and instead of slipping them off, she slides her hand underneath the hem.
“I’m hot for you, Gail.” She spreads her legs wider as she lets her hand sink deeper into her knickers. “Let’s see how much more you can take.”
Her arm crosses her chest in a diagonal line, and her hand and most of her wrist disappear into a pair of maroon knickers. Is this an invitation? Or another challenge?
“Take them off,” I hiss, but I don’t move. I stay moored in my spot against the tree, my hands still above my head. If anyone walked past now, they’d either get very aroused very quickly, or suffer a heart attack.
“Are you sure?” Joanne tips her head again. She looks like desire personified. Like someone about to lose the control she so carefully exercised all day. “Are you sure you can take that?”
Of course I’m not sure, but I’m not going to come just watching her touch herself, am I? What with my hands still obediently wrapped around the tree. “Yes. Please. I need to see.”
“You need to see my pussy? You need to see how wet I am for you too?” She flicks her tongue along her lips, smudging the lipstick even more. It’s the sight of a woman undone, of a woman surrendering to her own desire, and I know I won’t be able to take it, not the way she asks.
With a few shakes of her behind, she wriggles out of her panties, and stands in front of me in all her naked glory. My eyes are instantly locked on her glistening pussy lips. Despite the darkness around us, I see enough. There’s enough on display here to tip me over, and I can’t help myself. As soon as Joanne brings her hand between her legs again, I do the same with mine. I watch her touch herself, her lips slightly parted, and flick a finger along my clit. It’s too much. The whole scene and the lead-up to it. Joanne doesn’t stop me—or order me to stop. Instead, we both touch ourselves, and I come in seconds while watching her. Was this what she meant when she said she’d give me all she had?
My climax is violent and quick, tearing through me with compulsive need, and after I catch my breath, my back propped against the tree, I see my opportunity to turn the table.
“Stop,” I say.
Joanne does so momentarily, locking her eyes on mine, but probably more from the shock of hearing me say it. She paints a grin on her lips and starts stroking herself again with slow, languorous strokes.
“Why don’t you let me take care of that?” I ask, while stepping closer to her. Without the support of the tree, my legs are wobbly, and I’m more aware of my state of undress here out in the open, but the pull I feel toward her is too big to give that too much notice. I need to touch her now.
I put my hand over hers and take over, not waiting for permission. I’m floored a little more when my finger meets her wetness. Slowly, I walk her to the nearest tree, figuring we both need the extra support. When her back touches the trunk, Joanne fixes her eyes on me intently. Her hand, which she let slip from my grasp between her legs for a split second, is back.
“Fuck me, Gail,” she says. I’m surprised at how she can still put more command than desire in her voice. “Put your fingers inside of me and fuck me.”
I can’t remember an instance in my life when I ever wanted to do something more. I’m looking at her face so I don’t see what she does with her hand, but she keeps it there, circling around her clit by the feel of it, while I, without further ado, slip two fingers inside of her.
At the sound of Joanne’s breath being cut off as I enter her deep from the start, my own throat closes as well. I press my lips to the frail skin of her neck, kissing her there, while I fuck her. The brushing of her fingers against my hand as she touches her own clit, while I thrust high inside of her, is an unexpect
ed turn-on for me. I feel my clit swell again and, figuring I have a free hand anyway, I touch myself, again—it seems to have become a common thread for the weekend.
We’re a tangled-up mass of intertwining arms, pumping hands, and busy fingers. Here, between these five trees outside our hotel, where anyone can see, but no one does.
“Oh, Gail.” Joanne is starting to unravel now and with her free hand she latches on to my shoulder, digging her nails deep into my flesh. The mark will go nicely with the ones left by the rough surface of the tree.
The sight and sound of Joanne approaching climax enforces my own, but I hold off, lifting my finger from between my own legs to focus on her.
“Take me there,” she says, and starts pushing me down.
Without giving it any further thought, I sink through my knees for her, for my first close-up encounter with her pussy. The angle of my strokes inside of her is different now, giving her some pause, but not for long as I touch my tongue to her clit. Joanne’s hands are in my hair, pulling, grasping, twirling. I delve my fingers high and deep inside of her, while my tongue dances around her clit.
“Oh jesus,” she moans. “Oh, damn.” Her hands still in my hair, her fingertips trying to dent my scalp.
I halt my motion and give her clit one last devilish lick, which makes her knees buckle slightly, before slipping my fingers out of her and pushing myself up. At the sight of her—conquered, sated, pleased—I forget about my own pulsing clit for a moment.
“Jesus christ, Gail.” Joanne’s smudged lips form a half-smile.
“Just another conference night for you?” I send her a smirk back. I can smile now because I already know the answer. What just happened between us here is not over yet.
She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip and slowly shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”
“As much as I’d like to stay here a few more hours, I think we’d be wise to go inside now.”