Twelve Nights (3 page)

Agnes Marie Trout, known to her friends as Aggie, wrapped
the scarf firmly around her neck. The Cincinnati wind bit the air in late fall
and she wasn’t going to chance a cold throat. She was as tall, thin and
auburn-haired as her identical twin sister, Angela, but she hid her figure
under layers of baggy clothes and wore her hair in a careless shag. She thought
the men, and sometimes women, who stared as she passed were startled by her
Annie Hall clothing.

Aggie had decided to go into the library early. A shipment
of books had arrived yesterday and she was eager to get them catalogued and
shelved. Her small branch didn’t have many employees and though she was the
head librarian she didn’t like to leave all the grunt work to the other staff.
She backed her car out of the garage and headed down the quiet street, secure
in the knowledge that she would be the first to arrive at the library by at
least an hour.

Burger King coffee was definitely better than McDonald’s,
Aggie thought as she pulled into the drive through. She winced as the young
woman handed her the hot cup. Her wrist was sore. She must have slept on it
wrong. She balanced an open syrup container on a magazine on the passenger seat
and dipped French toast sticks gingerly as she drove the three miles to the
library. In the parking lot she savored the last few swallows of coffee in
silence.

After she locked her car, she rotated her wrist slowly.
Still stiff. Could Angela…?, she wondered then dismissed the thought. She
wheeled the bin for overnight book returns through the heavy double entrance
door. Four hours later, the new books were catalogued and shelved, the
preschoolers had listened spellbound to
I
Love You Forever
and the library had settled into its quiet morning
routine.

Aggie sat behind her desk and smiled complacently. Life was
good. Lunch would bring Andrew; her mind skipped to visions of a quickie, then
she laughed at herself for entertaining the thought. Andrew wasn’t a quickie
type of guy. At twenty-five he was three years younger than Aggie. Though he
didn’t know it, he was a nerd, and Aggie loved him for it.

Nerds made the best boyfriends. When he wasn’t with her, he
was on his computer. If he was on the Internet, she knew he wasn’t downloading
smut. More likely playing chess with his long-distance buddies. Maybe he was a
little slim and pale, but at least he was tall. At five foot ten, Aggie paid
attention to height. The jangling phone interrupted her thought.

“Cincinnati Library, Oakville Branch,” she answered
automatically.

“Hi, Pookie.”

“Andrew,” Aggie protested, “you can’t call me that at work.
What if someone else had answered the phone?”

“I know your voice,” Andrew explained. “I can’t come for
lunch today.”

Andrew never beat around the bush. Telephone conversations
were like shorthand.

“That’s okay,” Aggie agreed. “What’s up?”

“The boss has a client in from Sacramento. I have to explain
the new network software protocols.” The explanation was a long one for Andrew.
Aggie wondered how the client presentation would go, though she knew that
Andrew was painstakingly meticulous when detailing computer dogma. He just
didn’t like talking on the phone.

“Okay,” she agreed again. “Good luck with it. Come over after
work.”

“I can’t be there till 5:45.”

Aggie laughed. Andrew usually came at 5:30.

“That’s all right,” she reassured him. He really was a dear.

That evening Andrew arrived at Aggie’s small brick house on
the stroke of 5:45. He knocked on the dark oak door, though Aggie had given him
a key months before.

“Come on in,” she greeted him.

He leaned forward into her kiss and took her face in his
hands. Minutes later they were naked on Aggie’s old-fashioned sleigh bed. The
metal slats bounced with every movement and amplified Andrew’s enthusiastic
pumping. He came with a whoop and kissed Aggie’s cheeks and eyes and chin.

“Did you come?” he asked, barely out of breath.

“Yes,” Aggie lied.

“I can do it again,” Andrew offered. Ah, youth.

“Maybe after dinner,” Aggie agreed.

Andrew rolled off her and headed toward the bathroom.

“What do you want to order?” he called back over his
shoulder.

Though Aggie looked domesticated, she was near feral in her
avoidance of household tasks. An older woman came in once a week and did what
she could to keep order in the house. Aggie took her clothes to a laundry
service. Her kitchen contained not one pot or pan, but a double set of dishes
and cutlery and two dishwashers so she could manage until the housekeeper’s
weekly visit. Breakfast was Burger King coffee and lunch at a rotation of five
favorite eateries. Dinner however was eaten in the house, usually with Andrew,
and thus the need for dishes.

“How about Chinese?” Andrew’s voice drifted in from the
bathroom. He was running a shower. Aggie thought about joining him. But her
hair would get wet and she hated to go to sleep with a damp head. She stuck her
head in the bathroom door.

“We had Chinese on Tuesday. How about Mexican?”

Andrew poked his head out around the curtain. Without his
thick glasses and with his hair slicked down, he looked closer to twelve than
twenty-five. Aggie smiled indulgently.

“If you really want Chinese,” she offered, “we can.”

“Mexican is fine,” Andrew shouted over the spray. “Try the
new one over on Beechmont.”

An hour later the remnants of tacos and enchiladas littered
Aggie’s scarred oak table. The dining room furniture had been her maternal
grandparents’ and was a comforting inheritance.

“Do you want some more refried beans?” Andrew asked.

“No,” Aggie laughed. “I’ll fart too much.”

“Fart all you want,” Andrew offered. “I don’t care.”

“I will,” Aggie agreed, but she passed on the beans.

Thirty minutes later they were back naked on the bed.

“Do you want the top or the bottom, Aggie?”

“Do you want to try something different?”

“That depends what,” Andrew hedged.

“How about on the table?”

“Won’t that be uncomfortable for you?”

“I don’t mind. Do you want to try it?”

“In the dining room?”

“That’s where the table is.”

“But then we’ll think about it, you know, the next time
we’re eating.”

“That’s the idea,” Aggie teased. She pulled a packet of
condoms from the bedside drawer. Then she took Andrew’s hand and led him out
the door. As they passed the closed curtains in the living room, he reached
down an automatic hand to cover his limp cock. Aggie detoured into the bathrom
and grabbed a large fluffy towel.

“You lie down first,” she directed Andrew as she spread the
towel on the table. “I’m going to eat you for dessert.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Andrew scrambled to lie back on the table. Aggie grabbed his
narrow hips and pulled his buttocks to the end of the table.

“Put some chairs for my feet,” Andrew directed. “They’re
dangling.”

Once Andrew was comfortable, Aggie leaned between his knees
and stroked her tongue up his rising organ.

“Yum.”

She stroked and teased until the cock was solid and Andrew
moaning, then she eased her mouth down over the shaft. Andrew immediately
started to pump, but she pinned his hips to the table.

“Hold still,” she directed.

“Don’t stop,” he gasped.

Her mouth descended again and her teeth nuzzled the ridges
of Andrew’s now throbbing organ. Still holding him pinned to the table, Aggie
stroked her lips and teeth up and down the eager cock, sucking and milking it
to rock solid readiness. When she could no longer contain the pulsing of
Andrew’s hips, she lifted her mouth off of him.

“No,” he groaned. “You have to finish me.”

Unrestrained, his hips pounded up and down into the empty
air. His right hand grabbed at his cock to massage it to completion, but Aggie
grabbed the hand in both hers and held it tight.

“Do me now,” she panted.

“What?”

“I want to have an orgasm now,” she demanded.

“Now?” Andrew sounded bewildered. “Now?”

“Yes,” Aggie insisted. “I’ll bring you off
after
you make me come.”

Andrew struggled to sit up, his eyes drugged but willing.

“Okay,” he groaned as his turgid cock waved in the air in
front of him.

Aggie helped him off the table and lay down in his place.
Ignoring the chairs, she placed her feet on his shoulders as he stood between her
legs.

“Eat me,” she offered and commanded. “I’m dessert.”

“Aggie,” Andrew protested. “I’m not very good.”

“Yes you are,” Aggie contradicted him. “Your mouth can make
me come till I’m exhausted.”

Andrew grinned. “No way.”

“Yes, way. Get your mouth down here.”

Aggie lifted up on her elbow and grabbed the back of
Andrew’s head with one hand. She guided it into place above her cunt.

“Taste me,” she urged. “Do I tasted good?”

Andrew licked.

“You taste sweet and a little salty,” Andrew analyzed.

Aggie laughed. “Get your mouth in there and eat me, you
hunk.”

Andrew separated her labia with tentative fingers and
stroked down the crack he created. Aggie arched up into his hand.

“Use your tongue,” she whispered.

Andrew settled his mouth between finger-stretched labia and
lapped the soft flesh like a little kitten.

“That’s it,” Aggie urged, though that wasn’t it. “You can
suck harder if you want to.”

Andrew’s tongue laved her labia with broad strokes. He
seemed to be searching for the key to the portal, the key that would unlock her
ecstasy.

“A little higher,” Aggie directed.

The tongue shifted up and narrowed and dragged against the
little bud that contained the secret entrance.

“Yes,” Aggie gasped. “Right there.”

Andrew stroked harder and faster and Aggie reached up toward
him. Her hands stroked and pulled his hair as his tongue herded her toward
fulfillment. So close, so close. But not far enough.
Bite me,
she wanted to say.
Be
a little rougher. Touch my asshole. Just stroke it.
The inner fantasy became more insistent.
Hold
my knees apart. Restrain me,
the voice commanded.
Put your finger up my ass,
Don’t
give me a choice. Make me come.

“Do anything you want to, Andrew,” Aggie whispered.
Please do the things I want.

“Like what?” Andrew lifted his head to ask.

Aggie groaned.

“Come inside me now,” she offered.

“Did you come?”

“I want to come with you inside me.”

Andrew tore off a condom and rolled it down his still solid
shaft.

“Here?” he asked. “On the table.”

Aggie nodded. Andrew shrugged and lifted her buttocks. With
her feet still resting on his shoulders, he bent forward over her and slid
himself inside. Aggie tightened around him, and the unfamiliar position and the
pressure of his shoulders against her legs awakened the beast she had tried to
tease into awareness before. She felt the orgasm approach and hugged the
anticipation into her squeezing vagina. Andrew panted and pumped above her and
she closed her eyes and imagined.
He
shocks me. His hand slips down my backside and parts my buttocks and I protest
no, but I mean yes and he slips his finger inside me. His finger is big, no
it’s two fingers and he strokes me and strokes me brutally front and back. In
and
in and out the cock pounded and the rhythm and the fantasy engulfed
Aggie’s slow-burning heart and flooded her with shudders and moans.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes.”

As the trembling subsided and sense returned, she stroked
Andrew’s hair. She squeezed the muscles of her vagina and was rewarded by a
groan as his organ swelled to its final engorgement. The groan turned to a yell
as the pumping built to frenzy. Then Andrew collapsed across her chest, the
fury spent.

Aggie continued to stroke his hair as his breathing calmed.
When he lifted his head, she was surprised and touched to see tears leaking
from pale unfocused eyes.

“Did you have an orgasm?” he gasped.

Aggie smiled and nodded. “The mother of all orgasms.”

“Good,” Andrew sighed and dropped his head back onto Aggie’s
chest.

“Hi, Boo.” Angel felt the reservation in her voice and
smiled to brighten the tone.

“Boo!” her sister Aggie screamed. “I can’t believe you
phoned. Wow!”

“Maybe I shouldn’t …”

“No! No, no,” Aggie interrupted. “Don’t you dare hang up.
I’m so glad you called. How are you? Where are you?”

“You know me, been better, been worse.” Though not much.
“I’m still living in New York.”

“I tried to find you. Is your number unlisted? Why didn’t
you call me?”

Angel winced at the accusation in her sister’s words. She
lowered the phone.

“Wait!” Aggie’s voice screamed from the earpiece. “Don’t
hang up!”

Angel pulled the phone back to her ear. “I’m here.”

“Something’s wrong, isn’t it?” her sister asked. “My wrist
hurt when I got up this morning. What did you do to your wrist?”

“It’s okay,” Angel lied. “I slammed it in a door by
accident.”

“What’s your phone number?”

“I’m about to move,” Angel lied again. She rushed on. “I
thought I might fly home for Thanksgiving. Do you want to come?”

“I thought you
hated Mary.”

“She’s okay. I just hated that Dad took up with her so soon
after Mom died. His secretary – what a cliché. She’s not even pretty.”

“Still as shallow as ever?” Aggie needled. “No, I don’t mean
that. And yes, I’ll go home for the weekend with you. God, Boo. You haven’t
called me since last Christmas.”

“Let’s not fight, okay?”

“Okay. I won’t ask.”