by Ash Harlow
I doubt one of those friendships is mutual.
I decide to finish my beer and get out of there when I spot Steffi with a woman at the corner of the bar. The place is packed and I hadn’t noticed them come in, though they’ve probably been here a while judging by their half-full glasses.
I catch Steffi’s eye, and give her a wave. She mouths “hello” and lifts her glass.
“Don’t waste your time,” Derek says.
“Pardon me?”
“Stephanie Paxton. They say she’s more frigid than an arctic blast.”
Who the fuck are “they”?
Derek doesn’t see what a total dick he’s being. “Hey, Carl, isn’t that right?” He shouts to some guy across the table. “Your brother dated her, didn’t he?”
Carl, whose future I predict will be marred by heart disease and type 2 diabetes, agrees. “Every guy in town will tell you the same thing. My brother reckons she bats for the other side, if you know what I mean.”
My anger rises hot and fast. I want to take both these assholes outside and put their heads through the nearest brick wall. But, I took an oath to do no harm, and I’m not about to take a line from my father’s book of life and solve my problems with my fists. I stand, shoving the keys to the Range Rover towards Derek.
“Thanks for the test drive, but that car isn’t for me.”
“If you don’t like the Rangie, mate, we’ve got plenty of other options.”
“Oh, it’s not the Range Rover. I’m sold on that. But I don’t shop at places where people think it’s fine to discuss someone’s sexuality behind their back.”
The hopeful expression on Derek’s face collapses.
“Oh, and Carl, a message from the doctor for your brother. If he’s finding women aren’t warming to him, it might be something to do with his technique. Or, the asshole gene.”
I cross the bar to say goodnight to Steffi. I’m going home to write because I can feel that I’m only an alcohol shot away from not giving a fuck, and doing some damage. Steffi introduces me to her friend, Terra. She’s stunning. Nordic-looking with clear blue eyes, flawless skin, natural blonde hair and a dazzling smile. I’d have been attracted enough to her in the past to have wanted to get to know her, but the surge I feel is driven by the fact that I’m in Steffi’s presence. And, Steffi’s wearing this amazing red dress that makes me want to kiss her matching red lips.
“How did the test drive go?” Steffi asks.
“The Range Rover was great. Test driving the bar life in town isn’t quite so hot.”
Steffi ducks to one side to eye the table I’ve just left. She straightens again and pulls a face. “Ugh. Not so keen on the company you’ve been keeping, Doctor.”
“Yeah, well, that was a first and a last. Derek manages the car yard and he insisted on a drink. Stay away from them, huh? They’re assholes.”
“They’re not even in our league,” Terra says. “We’re out tonight to find someone for Steffi, and seeing as you’re off the market for all kinds of complicated reasons I don’t even understand, I’m thinking that French guy over there is a starter. French men are purported to be the world’s best lovers,” Terra adds.
“Urban myth,” I say, not wanting to think about Steffi with any lover. “I’m heading home. You girls watch out for each other, okay?”
“Yes, Dad,” Steffi says, laughing.
“I’m serious, okay? The guys I was just drinking with are idiots, and they’re getting drunk.”
Steffi puts her hand on my arm. “It’s okay. We know them. They’re always dicks to us because we won’t go out with them. Tonight won’t be any different.”
11 ~ Steffi
“My god, Steffi, the doctor is so into you.”
I take a long sip of my drink and replace it on the bar. “He’s not, Terra.”
“He didn’t even see me when he shook my hand because he couldn’t take his eyes away from you in that gorgeous dress. Doctor Noah is smitten.”
“The doctor is a professional. Anyway, if he was that into me—which he’s not—he would still be in this bar, having a drink with us.”
“Instead, he’s at home waiting patiently for you to arrive. Looks like I’ll have to take the French guy for myself.” Terra pushes her hand through her hair and gives it a shake. “The doctor is freaking hot, though. If you’re not going to jump him, pass him my way. It’s such a waste not to be making use of that fine body.”
“I think Noah is entirely capable of finding his own girlfriend, but I’ll be sure to let him know you’re available.” I feel as though I’m lying to Terra by not telling her about last night. But that was personal, and I’m sure she’s not interested in the details of my first orgasm, even if it was at the hands of the doctor.
“So, what do you think of the French guy?” Terra asks.
“For you? He’s got the right look,” I say. “And for the guy who’s just walked into the bar and given him a long and exquisitely passionate kiss hello, he’s probably even more perfect.”
“Damn,” she says. “So, that leaves us with the car salesmen group, who we’re not going near. Looks as though it’s battery-operated sex only tonight. Again.”
“You know what your problem is?”
“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.” Terra holds her hand up. “Wait, let me get a couple more drinks. I have a feeling this could take a while.”
I order water, even though Terra tries to change the order behind my back. Our drinks arrive and she leans back on her barstool as she sips her wine. “Tell me what my problem is.”
“You’re too good-looking. Men are intimidated by you.”
Terra snorts and starts laughing.
“And, you snort,” I continue. “Men find that intimidating, too.”
“It’s impossible to be too good-looking. That’s ridiculous.”
“You are, really. People think you’re a model. You should move to Europe where beautiful women are everywhere. That way, you’d blend in.”
“Enough. We’re not talking about me. I’m not the troubled one with the unsatisfying sex life.”
“Oh, god,” I groan. “Let’s not go there tonight.”
“Okay. This place doesn’t have any decent prospects, let’s take a walk and see if any of the other bars are more promising.”
I slip off my stool and pick up my jacket. “I’m going to head for home. Tomorrow I have to be over at the new clinic early to meet the flooring people. They can’t get the carpet we want and I have to choose something different. We ordered it eight months ago, and Cam says we’re not compromising. Wish me luck.”
Terra links arms with me as we leave the bar. The guys Noah was drinking with fall silent as we approach. One of them mutters, “Ice maidens” as we pass. And another says, “Brrrr, did the temperature just drop?”
I pause, but Terra tugs my arm and gets me moving again. “Keep walking, Steffi. Don’t feed the trolls. Remember? They hate it when you ignore them.”
It’s really cold outside. Winter’s a few weeks off, but the night is clear and the temperature has plummeted.
Terra’s got her phone out. “Do you want to share an Uber?”
“We live in opposite directions.”
“The driver won’t care. More money for him.”
“Thanks, but I think I’ll walk.”
“The doctor’s probably waiting on your bed, naked, ready to warm you up,” she says, digging me in the ribs with her elbow.
I’m glad it’s dark because I can feel my face heating. That’s so close to what I’ve been imagining, it’s uncanny. Or, maybe not. Most of Terra’s thoughts have a sexual theme. “He’s staying in the main house, not in my apartment.”
Terra shakes her head. “Oh, well, silly me. That makes any sort of midnight tryst completely out of the question.”
Her Uber pulls up, and I give her a quick kiss and open the door.
“Told you she batted for the other side,” a rough voice says, followed by a bunch of guys laughing.
<
br /> I open my mouth to reply, but Terra cuts in. “Ignore them. They’re not worth it.”
“Sure,” I say, and close the door.
The chilled air on the walk home is sobering. When I approach the house I see only Noah’s bedroom light is on. Had the house been lit up I would have called in, but I can hardly go and knock on his bedroom door. Instead, I go to my apartment and scrub away my makeup, peel off the red dress I was hoping Noah wouldn’t be able to resist, and climb into bed.
I can’t look at this bed and not recall the orgasm I had, or the feel of Noah’s tongue and fingers. He’s right above me in his own bed. I consider putting music on high volume to see if that will lure him to my apartment. Then I rediscover my resolve about not messing about with Noah Osbourne. It’s the alcohol, I’m certain, that’s again made me consider doing something so stupid.
I grab my laptop and log on to O-Zone. I’ve had just enough to drink to share my excellent news with the ’gasm girls. I’m pleased to see Dr. O is currently in chat. He notices I’ve logged on and sends me a private message.
Dr. O: Hey, @Zer-O, any progress?
I chew my lip, wondering what to tell him.
Zer-O: You could say that.
Dr. O: Well, don’t keep me in suspense. I’m the writer around here, that’s my job :smiley face:
Zer-O: I did it. Success. Orgasm. No longer Zer-O, more like Plus-1. I’ll have to change my username LOLs.
Dr. O: I’m high-fiving and fist-bumping over here. So happy for you. Was it that guy you mentioned the other night?
I’m surprised he remembered. Suddenly it feels wrong to be talking about Noah to some stranger on the internet. He’d be horrified if he knew about O-Zone.
Zer-O: Yeah, it was him. Thanks for your advice. I took it and it worked.
Dr. O: So what the hell are you doing on here tonight? Where is the Stroke Master?
I laugh, muffling the sound with my hand over my mouth, as if Noah might hear. Stroke Master. The name is apt, but I’m not sure he’d be amused. I’m trying to think how I’d feel if I discovered Noah talked about me in a place like O-Zone. Humiliated. Angry. Like my privacy had been violated. I have to shut this down.
Zer-O: He’s just walked in. Lucky me :big grin: I better go.
Dr. O: Sure @Zer-O. Enjoy yourself.
I can’t believe I just did that. I’m never going to O-Zone again. I feel disloyal. At least I didn’t give any details and, to be honest, Dr. O didn’t ask for any either. I guess, at the end of the day, he’s pretty genuine. Anxiety grips me. What if, one day, O-Zone is hacked? Are there any personal details about me on there? Of course, there’s my email address, but that’s a throwaway. I spend a few minutes googling my email address, worried it’s going to show up in search with the words “never had an orgasm” appended to it.
Of course, it doesn’t, but I feel better for having checked. I stare at the ceiling, considering throwing a tennis ball at it to see if Noah responds. I don’t know how I’m going to get him out of my head and get some sleep. I’m also worried that the orgasm he gave me will be only one I ever have.
I pick up my kindle and find a Dr. O story. As I read, I imagine Noah as Dr. O.
The memory of how he touched me slithers down my spine and throbs between my legs. When I sneak my hand there I discover I’m soaking wet. I can’t quite get the intensity of sensations going that Noah did with his fingers, but, damn, this could become addictive. I drop my kindle, close my eyes and take myself back to last night. Tension builds inside me just the way it should when, suddenly, my phone pings a message.
I whisk my hand away as if somebody’s just entered the room and caught me playing with myself. It’s probably Terra messaging, making sure I got home safely. I check the screen and worse than it being Terra, it’s Noah! I stare hard at the ceiling, wondering if there’s a peephole. Then I laugh at the absurdity of that idea. This orgasm obsession is making me stupid.
My heart pounds as I open the message.
—Did you get home ok?—
—Sure. Thanks for asking—
—What are you doing?—
I hesitate. My god, there are so many ways to answer that question. Completely sober, I’d tell him I was reading. Barriers lowered by a couple of drinks means anything could happen.
—I’m in bed, reading—
—Literature?—
—Filth—
—LOLs That’s the spirit. Is it having the desired effect?—
I want to tell him it’s not really working and that I need him to come to my apartment and help me. Or, maybe I should go the other way and say that I was just about to come when I was interrupted by his text. Or, maybe I should simply shut up.
I’m the sensible one. The girl who never let her parents down. I achieved good grades, didn’t create any gossip around town so that my parents—my wonderful, loving parents whom I adore—could always hold their heads high, safe in the knowledge they’d raised a good, hard-working member of society.
—Almost. I’ve replaced the hot character in the story with you—
—Nice. Tell me what’s happening—
Here I go, off to hell.
—I’m naked on the bed and you’re standing over me. Commanding. One hand beside my hip on the bed supports you, the other strokes my pussy—
I’m amazed that crossing the line isn’t more momentous. I’ve veered into inappropriateness with alarming ease and now my panic grows as I stare at the screen, waiting for a response. Have I offended Noah? My fingers tap out the beginning of an apology when I notice the dots. He’s replying.
[…]
—Outside of the fantasy...are you naked right now?—
My god, what have I become? Just reading his words makes my pussy throb.
—Yes—
—Good, so am I. Back to the fantasy. I’m stroking your pussy. It’s wet, slippery, and you’re begging me to lick you, but I make you wait. I’ve got two fingers inside you and it’s so tight. My thumb’s on your clit, pressing down, that way you like it.—
[…]
—Are you playing with your pussy right now?—
—I am. I’m imagining everything you’re doing to me. I’ve got this image of you stroking your cock as you bury your fingers in me. You’re breathing hard. The tip of your cock glistens, and I ask if I can taste you—
—Fuck! I kneel on the bed, take your legs over my shoulders and kiss my way up your thighs. You jump when I nip that tender skin up near your pussy, and I suck on that spot, leaving a mark that will stay for days. I open the lips of your pussy and you’re so wet, juice leaks from you. I slide my tongue along your cleft, tasting your sweetness.—
—You’re standing, and you tell me to get on my hands and knees on the bed, and face you. You grip the back of my head and tilt it back until we’re eye to eye. “Of course you can taste me,” you say, holding me still as you rub the head of your cock around my lips.—
—I’m licking you with long strokes, sucking on your fat clit as you writhe beneath me. I fuck your pussy with one finger until it’s coated with your juice, then slide it further to your asshole. You gasp, shocked as I tease the nerves around your hole.—
— “Open up, and show me your tongue.” The moment I do you slide your cock into my mouth, over my tongue, all the way to the back of my throat—
—My finger’s still teasing your asshole and I keep the pressure there, never letting up. Slowly, you open for me and my finger slips inside.—
—I choke. I don’t think I can breathe. You’re too big. You pull out of my mouth and tell me to try harder, to relax, to breathe through my nose. I do. I want you to come in my mouth, so I try harder as you feed your thick cock back into my mouth, encouraging me as I fight my gag reflex. I win. Now you can fuck my throat.—
—Your clit is fat and sensitive in my mouth. My thumb’s in your pussy and my finger’s in your ass. You’re pinned to the bed, unable to do anything but surrender to the pleasure. Your moans a
re louder now. I know you’re close, so I suck harder, tonguing your nub, fucking you relentlessly with my fingers.—
—Noah, I’m going to come—
—That’s it. Keep rubbing yourself. Don’t stop—
[…]
—Fuck. Me too—
I come. It’s faster, shorter, less intense than when Noah made me come. Nevertheless, I have a second notch on my orgasm tally. When I recover, I pick up my phone.
—Ah, thanks, Doc. :) Did you really come, too?—
—Yeah, fuck, that was hot. You ok?—
—Better than ok.—
—I’m glad. Get some sleep and for god’s sake, don’t answer any more texts from random guys tonight. Sweet dreams, Steffi—
—You too.—
I consider adding a couple of kisses but I think I’ve done enough damage for one evening. I let myself drift into sleep before I start stressing about how I’m going to face Noah in the morning.
12 ~ Noah
Next morning I find a note from Steffi in the kitchen, saying she’s gone for a bike ride. Tonight we’re going to dinner with Cam and some of the medical center investors, so Steffi won’t be able to get a training ride in after work. At least, that’s her excuse for not being at breakfast. I really hope it’s nothing to do with our sexting last night.
Eating my toast, I read back through Steffi’s and my message thread on my phone. I know I should delete it and suggest she does the same. I also know I should never have started it in the first place, but my only regret is not rushing downstairs and joining her in her bed.
Her brother’s back in town, and I need to get my shit together. I recall years ago one of our friends remarking that Steffi was going to grow into a hot woman if she lost the tomboy attitude. I agreed, and Cam went ballistic, telling us he’d drown us in the lake if we even so much as thought things like that about his sister.
We’ve reached the age of thirty, so you’d hope that he’d got over that, but Cam visited me a couple of times in the US and when I inquired after Steffi his response was always laced with suspicion.
“Why do you want to know?” he’d ask.
“Because I pretty much lived in your house for five years. You’re all like family to me.”