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Author’s note: I wanted to share my deep appreciation for the wonderful recommendations made by the talented editor, neuroparenthetical.
Browsing: Pleasure in a NY Minute
With her petal-pink lacquered index finger, Sara drew a copy of True Secrets of Lesbian Desire: Keeping Sex Alive in Long-term Relationships towards her. With some time to herself after a long day of client meetings in NYC, she was seeking insight into the demise of her relationship with Alex, in the relationship self-help section of a hipster bookstore.
Overpriced coffee in one hand, she held the paperback book open with her other hand, flipping its pages with her right thumb as she skimmed its contents. With no alternative, she used her pinkie as an anchor to splay the pages wide.
“You seem good with your hands,” mused a female voice.
Sara startled, she hadn’t realized that she was being observed. She wondered how long she had been watched, and scanned for the source of the voice. Her gaze quickly met a pair of unusually blue eyes through the empty space in the stacks. Sara had never seen that shade in real life before, only on television. likely enhanced with the aid of colored contact lenses.
Upon realizing it was a butch who had spoken to her, Sara hoped that a double entendre had been intended. The lurker knew she was in the relationship section, thanks to the prominent label identifying the topic of each row. Sara considered that was something of a toin coss: looking for one or in one already? Sara wasn’t entirely out of her last one in her head, while looking for a new one. She suspected her former partner had no such categorical confusion–Alex was looking.
“What are you reading?” the lurker inquired.
“Oh, nothing really, yet.” Sara replied. “Just looking.” She shoved the book with the incriminating title back onto a random space on the shelf closest to her. Though intrigued by the woman addressing her, she remained noncommittal in her response. It was New York City after all, and it seemed prudent to be cautious regarding strangers speaking from the anonymity of the shadows.
Just then, the woman rounded the corner, crossing from “True Crime” to “Relationships,” within a half-dozen confident paces.
The pair of eyes belonged to a petite woman, with a pixie-like appearance and the physique of a long-distance runner. Her blue eyes seemed out of place under her bushy eyebrows and the mop of dark curls atop her head. Her heart-shaped face and diminutive cupid’s bow lips, which would have made her popular with gentlemen in the 1930’s, seemed oddly juxtaposed with the cut of her men’s business suit.
“What are you looking for, exactly?” the woman continued, boldly.
Flustered by the question, Sara deflected again. “I usually browse with no expectations. Wait to see what strikes my fancy…”
“And have you seen anything you fancy here?” she pressed. Her blue eyes flashed intelligently, peering through Sara expectantly, awaiting an answer.
How was Sara to answer such a direct question? She didn’t know whether to be excited or annoyed at being put on the spot. Should she answer at all? To her dismay, Sara blushed, and stammered, trying to stall.
“I see,” the woman said, ending Sara’s misery. She appeared amused by the interaction. Witnessing the woman’s smirk, Sara had the feeling she was part of a game she hadn’t realized she was playing. She was attracted to this woman’s quick wit and confidence, but also felt vaguely off-balance from their exchange.
She felt a bit like prey.
“Well, if you haven’t yet found anything you’re certain you like here, and you already have your coffee, join me for a drink around the corner.”
“But we don’t even know each other,” Sara replied. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. They sounded so weak, spoken aloud…nothing like what a true New Yorker would say.
The woman wasted no time in responding, speaking quickly so as not to give Sara another chance to waffle. “How did you meet your last lover? Probably online. And how much did you know about them before you met for a drink?”
Sara thought of her text exchange with Alex before they had shared their first surprisingly intimate sexual adventure. She felt unnerved by this woman’s clairvoyance for a moment, before realizing that most people in their forties probably met online. It had been a safe guess.
“Well, for starters, I knew her name and profession,” Sara countered.
The wiry woman chuckled. “My name is Kim, and I’m an attorney. Better?”
She handed Sara her business card, identifying her as a partner in a law firm at an impressive address in Manhattan.
Understanding that she was an attorney contextualized her oddly aggressive approach. At least Kim was likely to be on the right side of the law.
“Actually, yes. Better.”
“How about that drink? Seems like you could use one.” She winked. Her confidence was surprising.
Sara tried to see herself through Kim’s eyes. istanbul travesti Was she giving off desperate vibes? Did Kim think she’d be easy to pick up–lack of ring signaling that she had failed at a long-term relationship and might now be on the rebound, based on the book title she’d just been holding? Admittedly, one was true and the other was probably true. Sara just didn’t like being so quickly figured out. She didn’t like that she’d been so easily snared.
Sara was still dressed professionally, wearing a simple black dress, paired with black nylons, that led down two shapely calves to 2-inch patent leather heels. Her hair was swept up in a messy bun; highlighted tendrils emerged from her temples, framing her face. Was it possible Kim just found her attractive, and hadn’t noticed the book’s title?
Sara decided she would excuse herself to the bathroom and Google this stranger. If her face checked out as matching the person listed by name on the business card, she would go for the drink. An evening out with a butch attorney in the Big Apple was likely to make for a more memorable evening than another evening spent alone, rehashing losing Alex and reading more relationship advice—advice that was 2 months too late anyway.
“A Cosmo for you,” Kim stated, more than asked.
Finally– Kim had gotten it wrong. Sara felt palpable relief.
“Actually, I like a nice Cabernet Sauvignon.”
Her favorite drink was actually a Manhattan, but she didn’t want to admit to that while in Manhattan. Too cutesy.
“Really?” Kim asked, leaning back to study Sara, equally surprised that she’d guessed incorrectly.
“Yes, I assure you,” Sara replied.
Sara couldn’t put her finger on what she found so unnerving about Kim. She had always been drawn to self-confidence, but Kim seemed to assume that she was always right and that she would always get her way. Perhaps Kim frequently was, and frequently did, but “always” pushed into hubris nonetheless.
The waiter arrived at their table and Kim ordered for both of them, in the same rapid-fire clip Sara had registered at the bookstore. She didn’t want to give Sara a chance to be assertive. It had been a decent trick the first time. Sara wasn’t as overwhelmed or as impressed by it the second time.
When the harried waiter disappeared again to place their order, Kim led with, “Tell me about you.”
Sara felt like she was being interviewed for a job, and she clunkily produced a brief life sketch. Similar summaries in her twenties had focused on her potential–her hopes and dreams based on scant experience: a summer internship, a trip abroad, a class that interested her. As she spoke, she realized that, in her mid-forties she was sharing the aftermath of those hopes and dreams–the consequences of choices she’d made during the first half of her life, plus the inevitable surprises that didn’t stop coming just because you were older. She shared her career change, her kids’ ages, her divorce, and her move. Kim watched Sara as she spoke, analyzing her words, noticing her micromovements, and probing ever deeper, with a pepper-shaker of pointed questions.
Kim’s own self-disclosure was much more succinct. She was born and raised in Manhattan, had always wanted to be an attorney, was aggressive in court and highly effective, had never married, and had no kids or pets.
The circumstances of their dating scenario called for making small talk: keeping the conversation light-hearted long enough to convince one another they were each normal enough to trust for at least one evening. Kim was barely playing that game. Sara struggled to connect with this intense creature before her.
They drank and conversed for about an hour; by the time Kim retrieved her platinum credit card from the waiter, Sara was feeling pleasantly buzzed. Still, she was surprised when Kim laid her hand across Sara’s wrist.
It was an unusual gesture-surprisingly intimate for two who hadn’t touched before.
“My place is around the corner. Come home with me.”
The one thing Sara was confident of was that she didn’t understand Kim. And because she didn’t understand her, she couldn’t divine her motivations, which meant she couldn’t anticipate her behavior. Sara assumed she’d be just as off-balance and vulnerable during any physical intimacy.
Ultimately, though, Sara decided she would regret not having the liaison more than having it. She hadn’t been with anyone since Alex, and she knew she wasn’t ready for a real relationship yet. While Kim was oddly intense, she didn’t seem dangerous and was clearly driven. If there was anything Sara felt she could predict, it was that Kim would be a passionate lover.
Sara rose from the table, placing her neatly folded napkin on the table in front of her, and extended her wrist towards Kim for the taking.
Kim poured Sara a second glass of red wine, placing it on the side table between them, rather than upon the absurdly-large coffee istanbul travestileri table in front of Sara. Kim poured herself a glass, and came and sat next to Sara on the sofa.
Sara picked up her glass–a smooth, burgundy-colored liquid barrier to hold between them.
Kim’s proximity made Sara nervous. She honestly felt she knew and understood the bookstore’s coffee barista, after their five-minute transaction, better than she knew the barrister whose chest was rising and falling a mere sixteen-inches from hers.
“You’re beautiful when you’re nervous,” Kim said.
“Well then, I must be beautiful quite often around you,” Sara said, laughing nervously. She sipped her wine, seeking yet more liquid courage.
“Do you want to be here, with me, now, Sara?” Kim asked, calmly.
“I do,” Sara answered.
“Then be here with me now,” Kim said, taking Sara’s wine glass from her and leaning across her to place both of their glasses on the side table. Kim kissed Sara, placing her hand on the back of her slender neck, and grasping a handful of her soft hair, pulling slightly.
The evening’s wine, and the sensation produced by the tug, rushed over Sara, centering her.
There was no spark of recognition and no intimacy with Kim, just the physical sensation itself.
Sara pulled back, breaking away from Kim’s embrace. “I’m sorry,” she said. I just don’t know that I know you well enough to go any further.”
“Well, that would be a shame for us both,” Kim replied. “I’d like to get to know you better tonight, and I promise that you won’t do anything you don’t want to do.” She stroked Sara’s wrist repeatedly as she continued, maintaining their physical connection, even as they discussed whether to curtail it. To Sara, that felt a little untoward.
“Tell me what you would like me to do tonight,” the brash attorney persisted.
While sharing fantasies with past lovers had been sexy, Sara wasn’t even confident that she should be kissing this woman she felt nothing special for. But then, “nothing special” was not the same as nothing. There was the purely physical.
Sara blushed as she said, “We’re probably never going to see each other again. It just feels too intimate to share with a perfect stranger.”
Kim placed her right hand loosely around Sara’s neck, as she replied, “Precisely. Share with this perfect stranger. Who better to share fantasies with, without consequence? So much to gain. So little to lose. Aren’t you curious about what it would be like to make each other feel amazing tonight? Are you really willing to walk out the door now?”
At the sound of the word, Sara’s eyes did wander to Kim’s door.
Kim continued massaging Sara’s neck. Sara couldn’t deny that it felt good to be touched again, though it was such a very different touch from Alex’s.
“What about this?” Kim pressed. “I’ll set an alarm on my watch giving us ninety seconds to explore what tonight could feel like — nothing below the belt, and all clothing remains on. When the alarm goes off, you’ll decide if you go home or if we go further. What do you think?”
Ninety seconds sounded entirely reasonable, and the “clothing on” stipulation was very reassuring. If she were to suddenly have regrets, being fully clothed would be so much more dignified. It would make for a quicker exit. Sara recalled the attorney’s pressured speech at the both the bookstore and at the bar. That was one of her tricks: pouncing and pressing and not giving her “prey” the chance to make its own move.
“Deal,” she replied.
A new game was set in motion, and Kim and Sara were suddenly on the same team. The tone had shifted from one of hesitation and reluctance – of potential costs over benefits – to an exciting experiment of openness, and even urgency.
Kim’s watch beeped, indicating their time for exploration had begun, and Sara felt a rush of adrenaline. Kim sprang into action, intent on emerging victorious.
For a petite woman, Kim was surprisingly strong. She pressed her chest against Sara’s roughly, the impact forcing Sara back against the sofa. Next, Kim went directly for Sara’s jugular. With her left hand pinching the fleshy part of Sara’s left ear, massaging it in circles while pulling down rhythmically, Kim lightly bit the neck of Sara’s tender skin. She licked the spot slowly thereafter, blowing lightly upon the wetness she had left there.
Sara shivered. Still gripping and massing Sara’s left ear, Kim ran the fingers of her right hand through Sara’s hair, holding her securely at the nape of the neck, and turning her head to the side. She spent a few precious seconds evaluating where she would bite next, the tension building between them in the absence of touch. The ravenous hunter hovered directly above Sara; she could feel warm breath on her neck, and she shivered again, this time in anticipation.
Kim’s soft lips landed higher this time, two inches below Sara’s ear. She bit down, using her lower jaw to alternate the intensity of the pressure being applied travesti istanbul to the delicate skin captive between her teeth. A heat was radiating from Sara’s left ear directly to her clit. Her pupils were dilated, her nipples were erect, and a gasp escaped her lips.
The watch alarm sounded. Kim released Sara, immediately, sitting bolt upright. She adhered to the letter of the law, fulfilling their original contract.
“Well?” Kim inquired.
“You must do well in negotiations,” Sara said huskily, still lying prone. “Don’t stop. I want you to fuck me.”
Kim smirked then. Rather than wasting time gloating, she immediately rose from the sofa and headed to her bedroom.
“Shall I follow you?” Sara asked.
“No,” Kim said firmly, not looking back. “Stay where you are.”
“And keep your clothes on,” she hollered from within the depths of her bedroom. “I’m going to be removing just one clothing item of your choosing.”
Sara wondered if she’d misunderstood. Perhaps she had meant for her to select the first item to be removed? How were they going to have sex nearly fully clothed…and what was the point, when she was truly ready now?
Kim reappeared, wearing only boxers, a necklace with a small, golden scorpion, and a ribbed men’s undershirt, which hugged the curves of her breast buds. Kim deposited an unzipped canvas bookstore-branded bag on the corner of the coffee table next to the sofa.
“What’s coming off?” Kim asked.
“My stockings,” Sara replied.
Kim strode back over to the sofa, towering over her at a scant 5 feet, 2 inches. Sara sat up, looking up at her lover expectantly through her long, thick lashes. Her heart thumped in her chest.
“Take them off, slowly,” Kim ordered, her voice low.
They traded places.
Sara stood up and walked to the side of the couch. Her hands moved under her black dress to her waistband. She began to peel the black nylons down over the curve of her ass.
Kim sank into the sofa’s cushion, spread her legs and shoved her hand into the opening of her boxers.
“I can’t see you over there,” Kim said. “Come back over here. Use the table.”
Sara obeyed, crossing back behind the coffee table, with the nylons still hugging her upper thighs. She placed the toe of her right pump up on the coffee table, prepared to give Kim a show. Sara hiked her dress up on the right, pinning it to her side with her right elbow.
Slowly, methodically, she rolled the black nylons down over her creamy thighs, one millimeter at a time. She paused for dramatic effect, splaying her pink, manicured nails across the flesh she laid bare, raking them down the length of her right thigh, while smiling coyly at Kim.
Kim picked up the pace inside of her boxers. She rocked slightly as the silky stockings came down. Sara bent forward at the waist, sticking out her ass and jutting out her hip, as she prepared to take them down over her knees.
She sat herself on the edge of the coffee table then, kicking off her heels, while looking over her right shoulder back at Kim, who continued to play with herself.
Sara hooked a thumb into the thick roll of stockings, now hugging both sides of her upper calves. She leaned forward and took the midnight-black stockings down to her ankles in a single swift movement.
“Leave them there and get on top of the table,” Kim said, breathing hard. Sara left the stockings at her ankles. She could only spread her ankles six inches apart this way, bound as they were by the expanse of pantyhose material, concentrated now in a thick, black, silky coil.
Kim’s hand emerged from her boxers, slick from her efforts. She yanked the underwear down, kicking them off to the side.
Sara could smell Kim’s sex then. Her musk was powerful – intoxicating.
Sara elevated her hips, raising her dress up above her waist. Kim moved her hand down Sara’s treasure trail and parted her lips at journey’s end. She sought to meet Sara’s wetness, with her own, still clinging to her fingers.
Kim’s left hand felt blindly for the bag she’d placed on the corner of the coffee table. She reached inside and pulled out a banded wand with two swollen heads on either end. Holding one head in her hand, she pressed a button, selecting the toy’s speed, and began teasing Sara’s clit with the other end.
Sara moaned in pleasure, thrusting upwards to meet the light pressure Kim applied, and attempting to spread her legs, dangling off the edge of the coffee table, as widely as her bound ankles would permit.
As she grew more aroused, Sara began to shake slightly. Every time she attempted to spread her legs wider though, to take in more of Kim’s touch, her ankles strained against the nylons, digging into her skin. The pressure at her ankles heightened the sensation between her legs.
Kim moved the vibrator down between Sara’s lips, penetrating her with it while it hummed at its highest speed. Sara gasped. The motor was powerful, and the head throbbed mightily within her. Kim inserted the wand’s second head into her own pussy.
Kim moaned as she mounted Sara. She closed her eyes and began rocking forward, transported by her own pleasure. The motion and the pressure created from above directly increased the pressure and pleasure below, causing Sara to moan loudly in response.
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