Baumgartner generations: Janie

She didn't complain about my roughness. In fact, she took it in stride, burying her face between my thighs, planting her mouth over my mound and staying there, smearing my juices over her mouth and chin until I was begging her to stop.

"Ready for more?" She rained kisses over my still-quivering cunt.

I groaned, half-laughing as I sat, not sure if the dizziness was the effect of the alcohol or my orgasm. She gave me that same mischievous grin, her hair a red mass of silk over her shoulders, her breasts perfection, round and firm, her nipples pink and hard. I didn't know if they were real-I suspected not, especially in Manhattan-but didn't really care.

"I think we gave New York enough of a show." I nodded toward the balcony, the blinds still open wide. "Let's go have a little private time."

She led me to the bedroom I assumed she shared with her husband. I didn't ask where he was-she'd told me the last time we were here that they had an arrangement, that he knew she went out clubbing and picked up women and he was fine with it.

Maybe she only did it when he was out of town, I thought, unbuckling my heels and tossing them aside. My panties and dress, I realized, were still in the living room, along with my purse and phone.

Her bed was huge and high. I literally had to climb up onto it. There was a balcony in there, too, but she pulled the blinds before coming to join me in bed, shutting the world out.

"You could have had your pick of any woman there tonight. Why me?" I wondered out loud as she captured my nipple in her mouth.

"I like you," she said simply, pressing my breasts together, trying to capture both my nipples at once. My breasts were large, but not quite that large, and she had to bridge the difference with the wet lash of her tongue. "You're so young and sweet, beautiful…"

"So are you." I looked back as she rolled me over, moving down to kiss and nibble my behind.

Catherine laughed, her fingernails grazing the globes of my cheeks, my ass clenching in response. "How old are you? Twenty-one?"

"Twenty-three." I sounded defensive. I probably was.

"Talk to me when you're thirty-three and you've been to a plastic surgeon twice, and you've had more Botox in your body than should be legal."

"You'd be beautiful anyway." I let her spread my thighs, her fingers searching for my clit, still so sensitive from my orgasm. "I'm sure your husband thinks you're the most beautiful woman in the world."

"I don't know." Her hand stopped moving between my legs, her lips still on my behind.

For some reason I thought of TJ and Ronnie then, the way he looked at her when she didn't know he was watching, the way his eyes followed her around a room. Every woman should have that, I thought-one man who couldn't keep his eyes off her.

Catherine moved to stretch out beside me and I looked over at her in the lamp light. She looked sad and I wanted to hug her.

"I didn't mean to pry," I apologized.

"No, it's okay." She shook her head. "He's a good guy. I love him and I know he loves me…"

"But?"

She slowly traced the lines of my tattoo. "This was my idea, you know."

"This?"

"Seeing other people." She rubbed my lower back. "He didn't want to have anything to do with it."

Again, I was thinking of TJ and Ronnie. Whose idea had it been, I wondered? His or hers?

"I guess I just wanted…something more."

Now I was curious. "Do you bring home men, too?"

"No." She kissed my shoulder, her lips soft.

"Does he see other women?"

"Well…he could." Her breasts pressed against my side as she moved closer. "If he wanted to."

"But has he?"

"No. Not that I know of."

I rolled to look at her, up on my elbow. "Do you think you'd be okay with it, if he did?"

"I…I think so." Her gaze fell.

"And he's okay with…this?" I reached over and touched my index finger to her nipple.

"I think so." She bit her lip as I cupped her breast, feeling the weight of it in my hand. “He says he is.”

"You know what?" I leaned in to embrace her, my body warming hers.

"What?" she asked as I began to kiss the tops of her breasts, squeezing them both and thumbing her nipples until they grew hard.

"I think you need to not think for a while."

Her belly was soft but flat, her skin like cream. I let my tongue dip into her navel, a preview.

"I think that's a good idea…" she whispered, her hands in my hair, pressing my head down, down…

I followed her direction as she spread her pussy lips with her fingers, her French-manicured nails showing me the way. I could smell her musky scent, her mound radiating heat. I played in the novelty of her pubic hair, just a strip at the top of her cleft, pulling and tugging gently, taking my time. I was anticipating the taste of her, the feel of her flesh against my tongue, the same and yet so different. Ronnie and I were incredibly familiar with each other. She knew what I loved; I knew how to please her. Being with Catherine was an experiment, an exploration into entirely new territory. It was blackly exciting.