Taken

Like the time we spent all day sunbathing on her apartment roof. I say we, but it was really Sarah who was slowly turning a beautiful golden brown. I was slathered with sunscreen and sitting under an umbrella, my pale skin too sensitive to ever tan. Then we reclined in the hot August night talking for hours, and we made love so long and so hard neither of us cared when it started to rain and our moans were drowned out by the sound of storm. I couldn’t get enough of her, or she of me. I’d never had anything or anyone like Sarah before. The whole thing was intoxicating.

She asked me about my fantasies. No one had ever asked me that, and I actually told her… although I later discovered the intensity and risk of my fantasies were a playful and innocent kitten to her sleek and stalking panther! She indulged my desires…to dress her up, like a living Barbie doll, in garter belts (oh, my fascination with straps!) and stockings, tight-cinched corsets and even crotchless panties. (The trip to the local “Lover’s Lane” for those started with a giggling girls shopping trip, but ended much more seriously with my tongue exploring her for hours past those ever dampening lacy edges.) And then, eventually, she asked me to indulge her fantasies.

How could I say no?

It was almost a month before Sarah opened her toy chest and let me explore a side of my sexuality I wasn’t even aware existed. A month of slow exploration, of long days at work where I was afraid the sexual tension between us could be felt by everyone, and nights where I began to vocalize, moving from tiny kitten mews to shameless cries of pleasure. I was lost, and I was trying hard to keep up the pretenses with everyone-Tim, my mom, getting ready for college in the fall-but I really had abandoned them all for Sarah.

We spent part of one memorable night in the coffeehouse, where Sarah was reading some of her erotic poetry for open-mic night-and I couldn’t help but squirm a little in my seat when she read the one about our first time together. I just hoped it was dark enough no one saw the slow heat spreading across my cheeks and down my chest and belly. I don’t think I’d ever wanted her more-except maybe the first time we’d been together. Her poetry made the audience breathless.

I saw an older man near me surreptitiously rubbing himself through his jeans under the table. That made me even wetter, knowing he wanted her, that even in the dimness I could see the outline of his cock and knew how much he wanted to slide it into the sweetness which would be flooding all over my tongue in the space of an hour. I couldn’t believe how exciting it was to see her being desired and knowing she was mine.

I was fantasizing about what Sarah and I were going to do together later when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the coffeehouse door open. I wouldn’t have even glanced away from Sarah except something about the figure filling the doorway was familiar, even in the shadows. I let my eyes leave the stage for a moment, ready to dismiss my suspicion, only to have it confirmed-in my body first, with a quick jolt, and then my brain, as I recognized David’s strong jaw and big shoulders as he moved through the tables.

I felt frozen, like a rabbit caught in the farmer’s garden. My first inclination was to sink down in my seat, become invisible, but I knew it was impossible. The place wasn’t crowded enough for me to disappear. And David had spotted me. He threaded his way through the tables, his eyes fixed on mine, and I had nowhere to go. I should have lifted my hand in a wave, just acted casual, but something in me wouldn’t allow it.

“Sorry I’m late.” David slid into the chair next to mine, shrugging off his soft-looking brown leather jacket. I just stared. Was I supposed to be expecting him?

Sarah’s voice was like liquid heat, drawing the attention of everyone in the room, and David was no exception. His gaze swept over her, the knee-high boots and short gray skirt, her white blouse parted into a deep V, purposefully revealing the top of her

black lace bra underneath. Her hair was pulled up in a sexy-messy pile on top of her head. She was breathtaking, and the heat in David’s eyes reflected her beauty. And she spoke the words of her poetry thick and sexy, dripping honey:

“Can’t give a starvin’ girl

raw meat right away-

not when she’s been pickin’ bones.

Hungry baby bird mouth,

greedy cluck and crow,

don’t mean she’s ready.

Easy does it baby morsels,

tender bitty nibbles,

a slow and sticky suck.

Girl thinks she knows-

she wants it now.

You know better.

Catch her up and give her

one mouthful at a time,

until her dog-hungry belly