Just outside work, Alex Eames let her boyfriend kiss her goodbye. David had one hand on the wall over her head while he leaned down the nearly a foot required to kiss her. She knew exactly how it was supposed to go. Her hand was supposed to be in his belt loop or pocket. Any second he would touch her hair. David kissed just fine, really, and she hated herself for thinking that she couldn't be bothered going through the motions when she had to get to work.
The patterns built before they had sex, when every touch was a promise of what they were building toward. Every contact meant they were once step closer to a mature relationship. Never mind their first time had been less than stellar. They were nervous, both virgins, and she knew better than to think it would be earth shaking. What bothered her was nothing seemed to be getting better. David wasn't any more confident about touching her. He didn't seem to be any more aware of how far behind him she was. Or, sometimes, how far ahead. Sex was supposed to change everything. Would have been nice if it had changed for the better.
She tapped his chest once, hard, to tell him she had to go and he took a step back. Looking in his eyes, she realized he didn't have a clue how uninvolved with that kiss she was. She sighed and looked at the ground, scuffing it with her foot before speaking. "They might keep me late. I'll call when I get home if I can go out, okay?"
He never questioned her. Not about this, not about anything. Her mother called it being a gentleman. Her father, tellingly, called it being sensitive. Alex was bored with it either way and she needed to tell him. Soon. Much longer and it would be stringing him along. She felt like the worst kind of bitch. Well, no, that wasn't it. She felt like a guy. Fuck 'em and leave 'em. Rationally she knew incompatibility could show up at any time and the reason you has sex before marriage was so you didn't get stuck with someone. Emotionally she still felt like a dick.
Her manager didn't think to give her the photo until halfway through her shift. She knew what it was immediately, even before she read the note on the back. The little girl looked like her father already. The house was in the corner of a nice living room, well kept and comfortable. It wasn't so different from her home. The girl was deep in play, a chair in one hand and a doll in the other. Her smile was so broad Alex had to grin, too. After reading the brief note, she tucked the photo in her back pocket and went back to work.
She bailed on David that night, and the next. When she finally saw him again, she was certain she was over him. They were all set for a night at the movies, which really meant in the back of his mom's car, but she just couldn't. Once he had them in a safe parking spot, she told him how it was. She was honest with him, not that she thought he understood a word of it. She wasn't sure she had it all right anyway. He cried. She sighed a lot. Eventually he took her home.
Her mom found the photo in her pocket while doing laundry. When she heard the story, she was charmed. That was a real man, she said, who could put his little girl's pleasure first and understand how special it was. Alex laughed at her mom's reaction, but she found herself thinking about the man who bought the house. Looking at the picture she could easily remember his face. Angular and wolfish, his bright blue eyes stayed with her when she moved around the dollhouse.
That was what she remembered about him most, his eyes. Boys her age either didn't look at her at all or they looked everywhere but her eyes. She'd given up worrying about it. Their loss if they didn't know how smart she was. Older men were worse. They were more likely not to notice her at all, but when they did they stared right at her tits like she was a pinup. She didn't feel threatened by it, just annoyed. Not his guy, though. He talked to her. He heard why she liked the doll house, what it was to her, and understood it.
She tucked the photo into her nightstand and turned off her light. Rolling on her side, she wondered if he listened at the times that David listened least. He probably did. Where David pulled back and waited, or worse just refused to do something, the man would push. She ran her fingertips over her throat and made a soft sound, remembering how she'd begged David to use his teeth. He'd touched her with them once, then asked over and over if he'd hurt her because she cried out in pleasure.
This man wouldn't. If she asked him to bite her, he'd do it. She moved her hand down to her breast, kneading and pinching the way she always did when she touched herself. Despite explaining that to David, nothing had changed. She pushed her other hand between her legs, rubbing over her mons. The blond man wouldn't hesitate. She wouldn't have to tell him she was ready for him; he'd be able to see it. Once he knew she wanted him that would be all it took. He'd have her down, his leg pushing hers apart and his mouth against hers.
She was soaking already, just from thinking of a stranger touching her. She could almost feel his hands on her, pinching her and probing her. This wasn't like a movie star or an athlete. Someone who you could pretend you knew something about was one thing. This was wrong. She shouldn't be sliding her fingers over her hard clit, imagining his tongue there. He had a wife and a child and she wanted to spread her legs for him, hold his head against her crotch and grind into face until she came.
She put her other hand between her legs, sliding two fingers all over her lips before pushing them into herself. Arching and twisting on her bed, she hated herself for imagining the big, barrel chested man pounding into her. Maybe he'd hold her wrists so it would be all about their hips. She pinched her clit as though he'd ground into her.
What drove her over the edge, even though she knew it was unfair of her, was imagining the man asking her what she wanted. He had a great voice and she could hear him whispering hotly in her ear, asking if he should go harder or pull back. Did she want him to reach between them and add his thick fingers to the mix?
Her head fell back and she had to bite her lip to keep from making enough noise for her little sister in the next room to hear. She jerked and twisted as her climax cut through her, the image of those broad shoulders and that tight ass working her body just too much for her to take. When she finally moved her hands away and rolled back onto her side, she shuddered hard. She should take a shower or say a Hail Mary or something. No matter how good her body felt, she had no business thinking about him like that. He'd be mortified. She was only glad she'd broken up with David before she found herself jerking off to the memory of a man she met once.
She hoped like hell she never met him again.
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