Thigh Highs

by Katia Rose

  She gives me a doubtful look. “Aren’t we just taking pictures of the bra?”

  “Do it.”

  I didn’t mean to sound harsh; I didn’t mean to say it all, but it comes out like an order. I see her draw in a breath and I wait for her to tell me to fuck off.

  For a moment, she just stares straight into the camera. I see her chest start to rise and fall as her breathing gets faster. The air feels charged, ready to shock whichever of us decides to move first, and I know what this is: it’s a challenge. She wants this as bad as I do, but she’s waiting for me to make it worth her while.

  “Come on Peaches, I’m waiting. We don’t have all day.”

  Her eyes narrow, and again I expect her to put a stop to this, but then she folds her legs up under her and shifts sideways onto her knees, leaning forwards to bring her hands down onto the couch. I circle behind her, and the view of her ass held up like that, covered in nothing but a bit of black fabric and lace, would make it impossible not to touch her if I didn’t have the camera in front of me.

  As it is, I just see the shot. Every line of her body speaks of sensuality, betrays a hundred possibilities, and I want to capture every single one of them in this photo. I want to own them.

  I snap the shutter closed.

  She shivers.

  I cross to the other side of the couch, facing her, and crouch down to eye level.

  “Look at the camera.”

  I focus on her eyes. They’re wild, like an animal caught between the impulse to take flight or stay and fight.

  “Open your mouth.”

  I stretch my hand out to run my thumb along her lips, and then part them, tugging downwards. When my skin grazes her teeth she lets out a moan so quiet it almost dies in her throat.

  The sound undoes me. I let the camera drop and feel it thud against my chest. I’m staring into her eyes without any barriers between us and she’s beautiful and terrifying, everything I want and everything I told myself I’d never want again.

  Slowly, without looking away from me, she straightens up onto her knees. I watch as she trails a hand along her thigh, over her hip and the black lace that stretches across it, up her taunt stomach and between her breasts. I want to follow that path with my tongue.

  I know the wrong words could shatter this moment, so I don’t say anything; I just lift the camera off me before bracing my palms on the arm of the couch and bending forwards to bring my lips to the band of her stocking.

  When I start to trail them higher and meet with her bare thigh, she draws in a sharp breath and knots one of her hands in my hair. I keep moving up her leg, just grazing her body, and lift myself up when I reach the bottom of her stomach. We’re face to face now, but I focus my gaze on her shoulder, reaching out to hook a finger around the strap of her bra and tug it to the side. I lean forwards and press my mouth to the skin it was covering, letting one of my hands come to rest on her waist.

  She lets me keep moving up towards her neck for a moment, and then I feel her hand press against my chest, pushing me away. I let go of her and she settles back onto the couch, laying herself out in front of me. Her eyes drift to my camera on the floor and then back up to me. She spreads her legs.

  My already rapid heartbeat skyrockets at the thought of what she’s asking for. I pick up the camera and crouch down in front of her again.

  “Wider,” I command, watching through the lens. “I need your legs spread wider.”

  She does as I ask, drawing her knees up higher and giving me the view I want.

  “Put one hand on your stomach. Good. Now put your other hand between your legs.”

  She trails her fingers along the inside of her thigh but stops just short of where I need them.

  “Aaron, I—”

  “Tease yourself.” I almost growl the words.

  She hesitates, and then starts to trace up and down the fabric that barely keeps her covered from me. She goes slow at first, like she’s embarrassed. I snap a photo and see her tremble at the sound. Her hand picks up speed, the muscles in her legs tensing and flexing as she works her fingers in a tight circle.

  I move to the front of the couch so I can see her from the side. Her chin tilts towards me, but her eyes are closed, mouth hanging slack with desire.

  “Please,” she murmurs. “I need—”

  I don’t let her finish. “Arch your back. That’s it. Don’t move your hand. Now look at the camera.”

  I click the shutter the second her eyes flutter open, and I know I’ve captured everything: the dazed lust, the grasping need, and the flicker of doubt that all cross her expression as she looks at me.

  “Aaron, you have to touch me. I need you to touch me.”

  Christina. Christina begging for me to touch her.

  I set the camera down and then I’m on my knees in front of the couch, leaning over her to press a kiss against her mouth. I feel her arms circle up to wrap around me, but I pull away and grab her wrist, hard.

  “Don’t move your hand yet.”

  When I let go she goes back to touching herself. I lay a hand on her ribs and bring my mouth to her collarbone, then the hollow of her throat, then down to the cut-out in her bra that leaves the top of her breast exposed. She arches underneath me.

  “Good girl,” I murmur against her. “Keep playing with yourself.”

  I’m wrapped up in her, lost in the curves stretched out in front of me. I’ve been bent on driving Christina crazy since I met her, but this is the first time I’m doing it to make her want me, not make her want to get away from me.

  I circle her nipple with my tongue.

  “On top of me,” she cries, not even able to form a full sentence. “You. On top of me.”

  I don’t need any more encouragement. Leaning back, I pull my shirt over my head and lower myself onto the couch between her still parted legs. She wraps them around my back, her hands pulling my face to hers and drawing me into a deep and furious kiss.

  “God, Aaron,” she gasps in the moments when our lips break apart. “I need you to fuck me.”

  Her hands slip down between us, searching for my belt. I suck in a breath and prop myself up on my forearms, giving her more space. She gets the belt undone and slides the zipper of my jeans down, and then she’s wrapping her hand around my cock.

  Her eyes find mine and I see fire in them, see popping sparks and roaring flames hot enough to burn me alive, but as I stare into them their liquid brown turns to piercing green and it’s Tiff I’m looking at, Tiff who’s underneath me, begging me to let our bodies melt into one.

  Instant boner killer.

  “Oh,” says Christina, shifting beneath me and looking away. “Um...did I—”

  “No, no, it’s not you, it’s just...”

  I lift myself off of her and sit up on the couch, running a hand over my face and shaking my head, trying to make the picture inside it go away. Christina sits up and stays quiet beside me.

  “It’s just been awhile,” I say finally.

  I turn towards her and try to give a confident smile. She takes it as a sign to start joking again.

  “What’s awhile for you? Like, three days?”

  I shrug, trying to play it casual when I know this is anything but. “Just over a year, actually.”

  Her eyes go wide and she rushes to apologize. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t— Uh, we don’t, you know, have to...I just thought—”

  Great. Now not only am I sitting here with a flaccid dick, but the girl I just had begging for me to fuck her now thinks she was forcing me into sex I didn’t want.

  I place a hand on her leg. “I want you. I want this. It’s not this huge deal or anything. I just haven’t, for awhile, and I...need a minute.”

  I don’t think I’ve ever felt so emasculated in my life. I wouldn’t blame her for running out of the room. Finding out you’re the first person someone’s slept with in over a year after they failed to get it up for you kind of takes the fun, sexy vibe out of sexy fun time.


  She stays next to me, my hand still resting on her leg, and neither of us speaks. The awkwardness is palpable. A few moments pass before I feel one of her fingers brush over my shoulder, the one with my tattoo.

  “What is this?” she asks.

  I glance over at the inked design. “It’s a shutter. On a camera, you know, the part that clicks closed to capture the light.”

  “I know what a shutter is.”

  The familiar irritation in her voice eases the tension just a little.

  “How long have you been doing photography?” she asks.

  “Since I was a teenager. It’s what I originally studied after high school.”

  She nods. “So why a shutter? Why not some other camera thing? Or did you just think it looked cool?”

  “I mean, kind of. You have to admit, it does look pretty badass.” She snorts at that and I continue. “I think what I like most about photography is the ability to capture...moments, details, honesty. What’s there one second might be hidden in the next, and you have to know just when to snap the shutter closed if you want to catch it.”

  “I didn’t think there was room for anything but ego in that head of yours, Penn, but you have some depth to you.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Oh yeah?”

  “I mean, in the same way that, like...a puddle has depth. There’s not much, but it’s there.”

  I squeeze her thigh hard enough to make her gasp. “You watch your mouth, Dominguez.”

  Then, just like that, we’re on each other again, locked in a kiss as I pull her onto my lap. She moans and presses into me, every sound she makes going straight to my cock and getting me fully hard again in seconds. She feels it and grinds against me, driving us both into a frenzy.

  I’ve wanted this woman so bad, pretty much since the day I met her, and I’m not going to fuck this up.

  I shift to lay back on the couch, pulling her down on top of me. My hands cup her ass, digging hard into her skin, and when I slip a finger down to stroke between her legs she squeals against my mouth. She’s drenched, soaking right through the fabric of the lingerie.

  She sits up and moves to undo her bra, but I stop her.

  “No. I want to fuck you in this.”

  She bites her lip and gives me a burning stare, then mutters, “One second,” before climbing off me and stepping towards her purse. She digs around a bit before coming back with a condom. I pull my jeans and boxers off while she does, and when she comes back her eyes devour the sight of my cock standing at attention for her.

  After straddling me again, she rips the condom open and rolls it onto me. I suck in a breath at the feel of her touch and close my eyes. She starts to tease the tip of me, running my cock up and down the length of her entrance before letting me push just an inch inside.

  When she leans forwards and presses me all the way in, a groan escapes me and my hands go straight to her hips, thrusting her downwards until she cries out as I push as deep as I can, filling her up. I keep hold of her, moving her body to the rhythm of my thrusts as I open my eyes.

  She has her head thrown back, her tits bouncing with the movement of our bodies, the muscles of her stomach pulled tight. I watch my cock disappear inside her where she’s pulled the fabric of her panties to the side. She looks like some kind of fantasy. The sight of her nipples poking through the lace of the bra makes my grip tighten and I pull her down even harder with every thrust.

  Her moans are uncontrollable now. I feel her starting to clench around me, hips bucking against mine. I bring my thumb to my mouth, wetting it before reaching to circle her clit. She almost screams at the contact and I’m about to fall apart inside her, but I fight to stay focused, keeping up a steady rhythm until she’s shaking and calling my name, tumbling over the edge.

  I follow right after her, the whole room fading until all I’m aware of is the pulsing heat of her around my cock. She continues rocking into me even as I let out a sigh, dropping my hand from her hip and sinking into the post-orgasmic daze. She grabs onto the thumb that’s still rubbing her clit and presses down hard, thrusting against it and whimpering as her body continues to jerk for several seconds, her face twisted with ecstasy and then finally going slack.

  Shuddering, she falls forwards onto my chest. I move my hand to the hollow of her lower back, feeling the rise and fall of her breathing. We’re both slick with sweat.

  We stay lying that way until I’m sure she’s shivering from cold, not just the aftershocks. I rub my hands up and down her body to warm her up.

  “That was either two orgasms or one really long one,” she says into my neck. Her voice sounds sleepy.

  “Definitely two, Peaches. I am Aaron Penn, after all.”

  She reaches up and pinches my ear so hard I yelp.

  “Foda-se. You are such a caralho.”

  10

  Big Day

  I roll over in bed and shut my alarm off. The first thing I do once the fog has cleared from my brain is sit up and send a text to Christina.

  Good morning, Princess Peach. Ready for the big day?

  ‘Peaches’ has started to lose its grating effect on her, so I’ve switched to Princess Peach, which she can’t stand.

  Since our studio sexy time two weeks ago, we’ve given up on denying that there’s something between us, but Christina wants to wait until after the showcase to figure out exactly what that something is. I’m totally fine with her strategy. Ever since we had sex, the weirdest things about her, and about us, have been making me panic. It was easy to admire her from a distance, but now I’ll catch myself wondering what her favourite food is, or memorizing the freckles on her arm, and the familiarity of her, the proximity, makes me break out in a nervous sweat.

  Getting close to people is dangerous. The more you let someone latch themselves onto you, the more they rip out when they go.

  I may still put up little barriers, like giving her dumb nicknames she hates, but physically neither of us can put this on hold anymore. Most of our showcase planning sessions have ended in furious make-outs that usually lead to most of our clothing getting torn off. While we haven’t actually slept together again, I’m getting pretty familiar with the face she makes when she comes.

  Her answer to my text pops up on my phone.

  Today is not the day to be calling me names. I’ve already been up for over an hour, and I barely slept. Meet me at school as soon as you can. Bring coffee.

  The showcase is happening today, and I’m sure Christina is already a bundle of nerves. I send her another text.

  Take it easy. If it doesn’t go well, you can just offer to strip for the Epsilon reps. Oh wait, you’re kind of doing that already.

  Her answer is just a single word, but I can hear the menace behind it: PENN.

  Kidding, I type back quickly. We’re going to rock this.

  Forty minutes later I pull up into the school’s parking lot. Christina is leaning against her Subaru a few spots away, mumbling something to herself as she stares at her phone.

  “Talking to yourself already?” I ask, stepping out of my car.

  Her head snaps up. “Rehearsing the presentation.”

  She walks over and thanks me for the coffee I deposit into her hands, then leans down to inspect the presentation materials on my back seat.

  “You got everything?” she asks.

  “Yep. I checked your list to be sure.”

  “Did you double check it?”

  I laugh but she keeps a serious expression.

  “Yes, Christina. I double checked, just for you.”

  She starts to slide one of the posters out, but I reach out to wrap my hand around her bicep. I’m still surprised, and extremely turned on, every time I realize how strong she is. I can feel the firm muscle under my grip.

  “Hey,” I say, “we’re going to be awesome. There’s no one more prepared for this than you are. You’ve got this down, Dominguez. There’s going to be a riot over who gets to hire you.”

  She pauses, reaching
her other arm over to give my fingers a quick stroke. Then she breaks away and bobs her head.

  “Thank you. I needed to hear that.”

  We carry our gear into the large meeting hall where the showcase is taking place. It looks like a more sophisticated version of a grade school science fair, with a table, poster stands, and projector screen set up for each group. The event doesn’t start for several hours and only a few other presenters are here already. We sign in at the entrance and then begin setting up at our table.

  “You brought your laptop, right?” Christina asks, as she centers a poster on its stand.

  “Yes. Like I said, I double checked.”

  “Right. Sorry. I’m feeling a little high strung.”

  I’ve never seen her this antsy before. It’s kind of adorable.

  We finish setting up and I take a look at all our materials. In addition to the posters, we’ve got diagrams to illustrate our advertising strategies and charts to track projected consumer outreach. The digital presentation we’ll be using the projector for showcases our blog and social media accounts, and we’ve also got Christina’s laptop on display to gives the reps a chance to interact directly with the accounts.

  “Okay, I think we should both go suit up and then start running through the presentation.”

  I nod my agreement and we head to the bathrooms down the hall to change into our business clothes.

  I brought a white dress shirt that I roll up to my elbows and a pair of dark blue pants, along with the dress shoes I rarely get to wear. I tug my beanie off and run a hand through my hair before stepping back into the hall to wait for Christina.

  She walks out of the bathroom and the nervous girl who’s spent all morning biting her nails and fidgeting over last minute details is gone. In front of me is a woman who looks like she could bend steel with just the power of her mind. Her shoulders are thrown back, her head held high, and every gesture she makes seems to hold a mesmerizing kind of power. In a close-cut black suit, slate grey pinstriped blouse, and dark heels, she’s the definition of a modern businesswoman. Anyone who didn’t look at her and think ‘CEO material’ would have to be blind.