Close Too Close (11 page)

PERSON 1

I wasn’t thinking about it anymore. I just did it – Dutch courage, not to mention the sight of her in that top, showing off very hard, delectably big, round nipples. All of a sudden, my mind didn’t seem to know what my body was doing, but she didn’t seem to be bothered by my rushing her as she twisted her face up towards me the moment I braced my hands on the back of the chair. I adored kissing that mouth, those lips that moved in delicious ways and that expert tongue. The slow slide of my hands from her neck to her shoulders was halted by the straps of the tank-top. They felt so fragile; I wondered how they held everything in as I hooked a thumb under each side. Her hands were in my hair, tousling, ruffling and entangling. My thumbs moved downward to the sweeping curve of the breasts I’d been eyeing all night.

She moaned soft and short as I brushed her nipples with my index fingers. I let my thighs sink onto her lap, unable to hold my own weight all of a sudden. She yanked at my collar and pulled my t-shirt off. Swiftly, we were a jumble of hands, legs, tongues and undress. I could feel her nipples harden against my tongue, and harden, and harden. My body seemed to know how to talk to hers. The sofa creak, the slow whir of the fan and her deep sighs frequently punctuated our humid sex. She caught my wrist and guided my hand down to her cunt.

The nape of my neck felt the finely-wrought pressure of her tongue sucking my skin against her teeth. It was exquisite, the way she squeezed her handful of my ass. My handful of her breast – grabbed, pulled, squashed, slurped. Squelch was what her wetness felt like as my finger penetrated her. She swallowed up one finger, then two and then a third, voraciously. The groans were louder now and were reverberating inside my head. She tugged me deeper and deeper inside her as her finger skated over the folds of my clit.

PERSON 2

The morning after, the heady taste of her swished around in my mouth. Nights later, images and sensations of her fucking me lashed at my bedposts and left me unmoored. The vehement thrust of her fingers made my cunt thrum. Oh what a stupendous fuck! I couldn’t wait to have a taste of the succulent mouth, the strident muskiness and that luxurious flesh again. The central-line, western-line divide of the Bombay local train was lover-girl’s reason for staying away. She took a week to visit me, with a bottle of flavoured vodka and mixer in tow.

Lover-girl was wearing an air of diffidence. A summary hug, not even a peck on the cheek and a skittish seat on a narrow chair. I wondered whether I had grossly misread her. Maybe she got bored quick, after all last time it I had to pull out the camisole. So I upped the ante with outrageous flirting but she was distant. Only the drinks saw a response of unbridled enthusiasm from her. Together, we were flailing in platitudes, while inside my head I was left leching and craving. At least I had alcohol to fall back on – half of the bottle was over. I decided to call it a night and had started steering the conversation in that direction when she bent over and kissed me, squarely smack-dab on the lips, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

I drank in her nakedness while I sucked on her toes. She reached out with her other foot and pinched my nipple with her toes, making my eyes tear and my cunt wet. She played rough and I liked it. A silent submission to my savage bites on her back was chased by an abrupt flip that snatched my breath away. As she drove her fingers into me, her tongue wreaked havoc on my clit. I came – screaming, legs thrashing and fistfuls of her hair crumpling in my fists.

Sex with her left me reeling. We started having our encounters once every fortnight. A sense of deja-vu crept up on me once we started meeting regularly. Her body made me giddy. The penetration was blistering, the sex sublime but lover-girl took a while to get into the action. Was I too boring? Over-eager? The routine was religiously followed – meet at night, spend hours drinking, make platonic conversation and have sex at the end of the night. I was tiring of the routine. I wanted for her to walk in one day and push my face to the wall. I wanted to feel a warm breath on my neck, hands circle my waist and to collapse back into her with my overpowering need. One hand stimulating my nipple and the other one on my clit. The next time she came over, I would tell her my fantasy. Brandishing my boobs along with dirty talk – hopefully, that would turn her on enough to do it.

PERSON 1

She made me crazy with her moans, the way she bit her lip and her hunger to give me a blow-job. She made me nervous with the free rein she gave to her sexual being, the forthright manner in which she pursued me relentlessly from the moment I walked through her door. Always had to stave her off until I had my fill of alcohol. Her sexiness unsettled me in delicious ways and tonight would be no exception. On request, I had worn a red-and-black checked shirt for which she had professed her love.

It had been four months since we had started doing our thing, but I was still thrown out of gear when I rang her doorbell. The hug I could manage easily, but after that, envisioning the kiss – on the lips? With tongue? Peck? On the cheek? A quick peck could be plausible when disengaging from the hug. Thinking of how to give a long and wet kiss or responding to one would always stress me out and then I ended up not doing anything at all or looking like an awkward, hasty chump while doing it.

She opened the door and grabbed my hand to pull me in. Shoving the door shut with the ball of her foot, she backed me into it. Uncertain, excited and panicky, I flattened up against it hard, feeling the eyehole press into my scalp. Sex was in the air, I could almost smell it. Two pairs of tautly-clasped hands skidded up against the door until they reached shoulder level. Her knee rose up as her toes travelled along the inner seam of my pants. Toes digging into my crotch, knee bent up against my chest, hands pushed against the wall, noses touching each other’s tips.

This was so fuckin’ hot. No one had ever done this to me before. Both electrified and embarrassed, I wished that I had a drink before showing up. If I had drunk enough maybe I could flip her to the wall and unzip her to fuck her. That’s what the confident me could have done. Right now, I didn’t know what to do with myself or how to enjoy what was happening to me – I needed to feel it all, but instead I kept on thinking. If I could get my hands on a little alcohol, my brain wouldn’t get in the way of my actions. Wet, wanting but wary – I just couldn’t do this.

PERSON 2

She smelled so good and looked yummy in that shirt. I wasn’t going to wait around for her to jump me. Arousal coursed through me as my hand, five fingers splayed, pushed hers down against the door. I angled my foot into her crotch, ran it down her thigh and flexed it to my right. My foot pushed, her legs parted and pelvis jutted into pelvis. I had her standing spread-eagled and pinned to the wall. Hunching over her, my tongue pried open her lips almost forcefully, entering her mouth and traversing the underside of her tongue.

Lover-girl offered no resistance – silent, submissive and passive. This was my payback for all the nights of all-consuming lust – my sleep seized from me with thoughts of her fucking me, fucking me hard, fucking me long and hard. I heaved into her when I started kissing the point where the sharp jawline met the neck. Whether I kissed, licked or sucked – she tasted good all over. My cunt ached for her so, my grip on her hands slackened in the hope that they would wander.

PERSON 1

The way she kissed me on my neck made my toes curl. She had immobilised me so it was a relief that I wasn’t expected to do anything. The lapel of her coat rubbed my nipple and made it hard. It was the first time I’d seen her in formal office wear. An austere, high pony-tail, a brown coat covering a sternly buttoned, stiffly starched, constricted white shirt, followed by khakis. A stunning combination, the serious, controlled exterior with a raging, out-of-control interior. I had barely begun to enjoy looking at her, when I started to think of how I would eventually have to get all of this off her. How do you divest someone of a jacket? Plus women’s formal pants always seem to have three extra, unnecessary and oddly placed buttons to be unfastened.

Maybe I wouldn’t have to do anything soon; this could be just a very sexy greeting. After a few drinks some random buttons wouldn’t even enter my head and I wouldn’t look like I didn’t know what I was doing. I couldn’t see the glasses nor the bottle of vodka on the counter. Uh-oh! No, not possible, she probably didn’t have the time to get the bottle out. I realised that she had let go of my hands, maybe she’d had enough. But, no, she just stood there, her thigh wedged in between mine.

PERSON 2

Oh no, not the blank stare again. I stood my ground and looked into her eyes. Surely my body language was unmistakable. She remained impassive. Fuck! What was it with this woman? I kept her pinned to the door, took her hand and put it in between my breasts. She wasn’t even a dogmatic top who would resent me taking the initiative. This unresponsiveness was so tough to deal with. What was it about me or what I was doing, that put her off so badly? Wouldn’t any hot-blooded dyke react to my onslaught and plunder what was on offer?

Still somewhat reticent, perhaps she needed a little help from me. My fingers slid inside my lapel and moved downwards to expose my shoulder. She stood stock still, hand still resting on my chest. Sigh. But, she didn’t seem to be uncomfortable, so I ran my index finger slowly along my collarbone to my shoulder and eased it out of my jacket. I did the same to my other shoulder and let my jacket fall to the floor. She didn’t move a muscle, though her eyes followed the jacket falling to the floor.

PERSON 1

This was excruciating. Did she have any idea what she was doing to me? Her jacket almost slithered off her body in the sexiest way possible. She was waiting for me to continue what she started, but I just couldn’t. I was about to go to pieces with mounting panic and arousal. If only she’d have waited till I had a few drinks. Unfazed by my inaction, she undid her top button. And then, the one after that, and after that too. Cleavage, then midriff and finally belly-button. I could pull her close and kiss her, but maybe she preferred me to undo her pant buttons, which would be a catastrophe.

After waiting for a moment, she decided to continue. Her thumb flicked the first button of her pants and moved away to caress her belly-button. I was mesmerised as her hand travelled up. She had started touching her breast with round strokes. Her free hand reached her other breast, her head tilted back and she fondled harder. It was driving me wild. She took two steps back, disengaging from my body. Her shirt flitted off her body and she put a hand behind her back to unclasp her bra. Was it her intention to have me watch all along? What sort of a reaction is a voyeur supposed to give? I had no clue.

PERSON 2

I was going to have to do it all and leave the wham, bam up to her. I let my bra fall to the floor. I stepped out of my pants after wrestling with all the fiddly buttons. Panties, made damp by my wetness, bunched up along my thighs as I dragged them down. Lover-girl stood rooted to the floor, I stepped towards her – stark naked. I wanted those hands to run along the length of my body, to take me in their grasp and have their way with me. Stripping for her had made my yearning worse. It also made me feel uber-sexy. I felt desperate for her touch. Surely this was enough for her – I’d never worked so hard at seducing anyone. Tonight I wasn’t going to stop at anything.

PERSON 1

She stood painfully close to me, but my arms hung limp. If I exhaled she would feel my breath on her face. The smell of her shampoo punched me in the nose; her hair cascaded down onto me as she undid her high ponytail. The pressure was unbearable; I was on the verge of hyperventilating. She did want me to touch her, stroke her, finger her, fuck her. I was desperate for her but I just couldn’t wrap my head around how to do it. At this point, I was ready to chug out of the bottle.

Her fingers ran down her neck and her feet were now planted apart. Dragged, pulled, pinched, her fingers ran amok – her ass, her taut nipples, sexy calves, inner thighs and in her hair. I loved the way she threw her head back and my cunt throbbed every time a sigh escaped the lips she kept on biting. Her index finger was poised just above her opening. She waited there forever. I was torn – no matter how much I wanted to, I couldn’t even lift a single finger – couldn’t shake the feelings of embarrassment, self-consciousness and impending doom. Her eyes flickered from my face to my hands and her finger plunged into her cunt.

She removed her finger, almost instantly and ran it along my upper lip and then my lower lip. I could have collapsed right there, but instead I tasted her wetness. Her finger made its way back down. Looking at the movements of her wrist – slow, deliberate, circular – made me tremble. I was riveted, her movements were becoming quicker, her sounds louder. She was rocking back and forth on her feet.

PERSON 2

I came tumultuously, by my own hand, panting hard. She was still standing against the door, silent. I was surprised by myself, seized by the moment, by insurmountable hunger – I had stripped and masturbated in front of another person. My reserve, my body-image issues and discomfort seemed to have melted away tonight. I was satiated for now. But, the niggling question of her passivity still bothered me. Was I not sexy enough? Why did she bother to have sex with me then? Still standing, in the same place, her face betrayed no emotion. I had gotten my release, what of her? With no reaction forthcoming, I shrugged and picked up a t-shirt from a pile of clean clothes. Lover-girl finally moved, towards my alcohol cabinet. She took out a bottle, reached for a glass and then opened the freezer for ice. This was the first independent action she had taken after stepping across the threshold.