Scarlet and David: Part 2

(December 2000)

She falls asleep. When she awakens the water is running. David returns with an ice bucket of warm soapy water, a sponge and towels. He gives her a sponge bath - her temples, cheeks, chin line, neck, arms. She watches him, her jaguar eyes aglow. As he sponges her underarms, with its nubs of shaved hair visible on the surface of her skin, she feels the sensation change from relaxation to pleasure. He sponges her breasts, lingering some, then works his way down. He washes around but not on her pubic area and sets the sponge aside. The moist warmth of the sponge is replaced by moist warmth of his tongue and lips. He smells their scents, now mingled together.

He tastes her for the first time, her acid sweetness mixed with the salty muskiness of his sex. He licks his tongue over the outsides of her labia, washing and arousing her. He moves to the other side, repeating the stroke up the sides of her pussy like a cat bathing her young. His tongue is silky and attentive, responding as Scarlet maneuvers her hips slightly to increase the sensation from his licks. He takes her labia between his lips, sucking softly and slowly making his way up one side and then the other. She tightens her stomach and legs as he moves close to her clit then relaxes as he sucks his way back down again.

She feels it more intensely now, her fingers brushing over his cheeks and into his hair. He licks now through the centre, beneath the opening of her vagina, lapping her secretions. And over her opening now where his penis had found such sweet fulfillment, he licks, probing his tongue in and around like a french kiss. His fingers are above and around her pussy, framing her clit. She feels diffuse pressure from his fingers against her clit as he licks her vagina and up now over the smooth soft pinkness of the insides of her lips. Up to her clit and as he nears it he feels a firmness at its base in contrast to the smooth softness of her inner lips. She wants him and needs him now, the tension in her pelvis stronger, more desperate.

She feels the urge to take his hair in her hands and pull him onto her clit and have him french kiss it the way he kissed her mouth a short time ago. But she waits, and sensing her urgency, he responds, his lovemaking now a fulfillment not a tease, and lowers his mouth over her clit, applying a pressure around it with his lips and circling around the base of it with his tongue. Her hips buck suddenly and uncontrollably, she gasps from her throat as the intensity mounts. She sucks her, his tongue stroking up the shaft of her clit, again and again, building and escalating the tension. She grabs his hair again, he increases the sweet momentum on her clit. She raises her head and shoulders off the bed, pulls his hair as she forces his head into her cunt, and screams from her mouth at first, then deep down in her throat and out of her belly as she comes in his mouth.



She feels delirious with the pleasure and the attention, lying back on the bed now as her lover moves up beside her, kissing her neck and face, caressing her hair and resting his cheek against hers. She rests as the waves of sweetness wash over her. After a time she brushes her hand across his breast and trails her fingers down the soft hair of his chest and belly. Her fingers glide over his penis, rigid again from her scent and her moans, and her fingers circle and caress his balls. She raises her head from the sheets, and her free hand caresses his chest and surrounds one of his nipples. Her tongue circles it. Her lips enclose it with a soft pulsing pressure. With an unmistakable sigh he exhales. His hand moves down and meets her hand at the base of his cock. "Not now," he says, "It's getting late, you must be hungry."

What she's hungry for he doesn’t say. It's not really so much a hunger as a desire. But she's feeling that spaced out, hung-over, after-loving sensation and, besides, she's intrigued. She can’t remember the last time a man refused her offer. She raises her head, looking at him wide eyed, her face a flush pink through her brown freckles. With two hands he takes her cheeks and draws her towards him, pressing her lips to his with a moist soft pressure. "I have some clothes I’d like you to try on," he says.

He gets up, naked and walks across the room. She watches him, his penis still erect, his body straight and lean. Flesh on flesh he seemed a soul mate, watching him move he seems a stranger again. He is back in an instant, a towel wrapped around his middle, shopping bags in hand. "Here try these on," he says. She remembers their emails. "He never asked me about my body," she remembers, until one message when he was so uncannily direct, not asking her measurements like guys always do, but her clothing and shoe sizes. At the time she thought he must be comparing her measurements to his wife's clothing. She remembered at that time wondering what his wife looked like and what labels he was reading from her wardrobe.

She sits on the bed with the bags. He leaves to take a shower. She opens the first package. It's a pair of shoes — high heels, black patent leather, straps across the toes and ankle - her size. She blushes, no one has ever bought her shoes before — she’d probably swat her husband if he came home with shoes for her. And they’re not the kind of shoes she wears, she's used to sneakers and comfortable shoes, she's always hated wearing heels. She remembers that when she had to wear them, she’d always take them off after a couple of drinks and go bare foot.

The next package — a skirt. It's black, the fabric is soft and shimmery. She holds it up — it will fit — on a good day. "It's a good thing I near starved myself for the last week looking forward to this weekend," she remembers, although her lack of appetite had as much to do with being nervous about meeting David as it did about wanting to lose weight. The skirt was short but not a mini skirt — about mid-thigh. It was a narrow cut. "I’d be taking small steps in this," she thinks.

The next package — a blouse — a black thin sheer fabric. She remembers suddenly the first present he had given her, the scarlet bra and panties. Under this blouse the bra would silhouette through the fabric, emphasizing her breasts. She wondered, confused, as the water was running in the shower. "Does he really want me to wear these things?" They are so unlike her. She spent hours and days wondering what to wear this weekend. She remembered shopping for just the right sweater, not too revealing but revealing enough to faintly outline her shoulders, breasts and hips. She felt good in the sweater, and when she wore it out with the girls one night, they complimented her. At the time, she felt overdressed wearing it to the bar, but she liked the way it made her feel.

She stands up, finds the scarlet bra and panties which had been tossed into corners on either side of the room, and puts them on. Next the skirt. It fit, shapely but not too tight, and when she walks in front of the mirror, she likes the way it outlines her body. But short and not her, she blushes — but she's willing to give it a try. She buttons up the blouse next, self-conscious about the outline of the bra and the low cut that emphasizes her cleavage and the freckles on her chest. It's tailored, not billowy. "I’d have to sit so straight - it doesn’t hide anything," she hesitates.

A thought crosses her mind. Off goes the blouse, and searching through her suitcase she finds her new sweater. She puts it on. She feels more comfortable - more her. It still looks sexy she thinks, but more understated, more casual. She puts on the shoes. "I’ll give them a try," she thinks as she looks at the outline of her calves in the mirror.

"Almost ready?" David asks from the bathroom. Her heart skips a beat, then beats hard suddenly in her chest. "Just a minute," she answers. She looks at herself quickly in the mirror — it's not herself she sees but an attractive and virile woman set to go to dinner in a strange city with a man she hardly knows. Her eyes scan down, then up her reflection. And then, without thinking as much as knowing, she pulls the sweater over her head, picks up the blouse and puts it on.

David comes back into the room, his hair wet, his face freshly shaved, a towel wrapped around him. "You look nice," he says as he comes close, "I didn’t know if you would wear them."

"I love them, thank you," you lie as you reach up to kiss him, your fingers trailing through his wet hair.

He picks up his dress pants and shirt that were still on the chair where they had laid since he took them off what now seems like weeks ago. He takes them to the closet outside the bathroom, she hears him dressing. When he returns, he has changed into jeans, a clean shirt and casual shoes. She expected him to be dressier. She becomes aware of her blouse, skirt and shoes, and for an instant she feels like she's dressed in someone else's clothes. The clothes make her feel different somehow, there is nowhere to hide in them, she feels in a way exposed, like she felt exposed when she lay shackled to the bed naked, waiting for him. But it is not just her body, in her soul she senses that, this weekend, everything will be exposed and nothing will stay hidden.

She looks at him - catching him looking at her. "Time for dinner," he says. As he turns toward the door, she glimpses the bulge in his jeans that gives away his appearance of being so cool and casual.

They walk together through the lobby. She notices the raised eyes of the doorman, following her. She begins to blush, but feels a surge of confidence when David takes her hand and directs her into the cab.

As they settle into the backseat, she sits close to him. He puts one arm around her, lowers his eyes and presses his lips softly against hers, lingering, his mouth opening and closing in a tiny circular motion. She can almost hear an "ou" as she feels the varying pressure and intensity of his lips on hers. She opens her mouth slightly and with the tip of her tongue teases ever so lightly the insides of his lips. He puts his hand between her legs, gently pressing the insides of her thighs. She parts them, releasing the tension like a spring uncoiling. David looks up and says "We get out at the corner. It's not far, we can walk from here."

They walk along the sidewalk on a warm summer's evening, close but not touching. It's a run down part of town, if it has seen better days, they were a long time ago. But the street is busy with Friday night activity. Some men are gathered in groups on corners, talking. Some kids are sitting on the steps of public buildings, watching. A number of young women stand alone or in groups of two or three in tight tops, short skirts and high-heels, waiting. Men alone in cars cruise the street, slow down when they pass the women, leer, and drive on. Scarlet notices a car stopping at the corner ahead of them, one of the women goes to the car, sticks her head in the open window, then gets in and the car drives off.

Scarlet takes David's arm and holding him close she becomes aware again of her own body. With each step in the high heels her hips sway noticeably through the tightly fitting black skirt. She sees the men brazenly eyeing her. One of the women, dressed in a short, black leather skirt and leather boots, glances toward her, away and quickly back again, her eyes following Scarlet. Scarlet meets her gaze, eyes glancing down the woman's body then up again, as they walk past. Scarlet feels a timidness leaving her body, she walks more more erect, head high, hips swaying confidently.

"It's right here," David says as they turn into a doorway. They enter the restaurant leaving the street scene behind. Scarlet looks around. It is a nice restaurant, tablecloths and cloth napkins, fairly small, about half full. She notices a couple at another table across the aisle — late thirties, the man in a suit, the woman, thin and angular, conservatively dressed. Scarlet gets up to go to the washroom, as she walks by their table she notices the man's eyes looking down at her legs, then glancing up. Their eyes meet, Scarlet's chest flushes slightly through her freckles and she smiles.

When she returns, David is pouring the wine, then he excuses himself. Scarlet notices the man in the suit glancing toward her. She turns her head toward him, meets his eyes again, allowing hers to linger now for an instant. She lowers her eyelids as she looks back to her glass. She feels flirty. Men are noticing her and showing it and she is enjoying it. She takes a large drink of the wine and crosses her legs to one side, giving the man in the suit something to look at. She glances down, too, sees the length of her leg from her toes to her mid-thigh exposed, and likes how it looks.

David returns. She leans toward him, takes his hands in hers and says, "I’m glad we’re here, David." "Me too", he answers, looking into the depth of her green eyes. "Are they green or yellow?" he asks himself, wondering if it's the light or her eyes playing tricks on him. They make small talk, about nothing in particular until the waitress arrives. She is young, her black hair pulled back. The waitress looks at David with an expression that says that her whole attention is on him alone. David doesn’t deflect the waitress's attention, he meets it directly. "Hey!" you think, "He's mine," and you ask for a menu. The waitress looks toward you quickly as if she forgot something, hands you a menu, and lists off the specials of the night.

When she finishes David says, "We’ve been working up quite an appetite, maybe the steak would be good." " A busy day?" the young waitress asks. "Something like that," David replies. He looks to Scarlet. "How about the tenderloin?" he asks. "Yes … that sounds good … medium rare." She replies, thinking that she hasn’t even read the menu. He orders — the tenderloin for her, a sirloin for himself. The waitress leaves, Scarlet notices David's eyes following her.

The food arrives. Scarlet cuts into the steak. The pink juice leaks onto her plate. "How's your meat?" David asks. "Tender," she replies and looks slowly up at David. She sees something in his eyes - a flicker. If eyes could blush, his did. He doesn’t speak for a long moment, she watches as the blush is transformed, is redirected into a simmering intensity borne of desire. She remembers back to this afternoon, her fingers around his penis - "Not now," he had said. And she remembers too the bulge in his jeans as they were leaving the hotel room, his hand between her thighs in the taxicab, the look he had given the waitress. She feels a stirring, a receptiveness, like his desire is beginning to penetrate her body — through her eyes as she watches him, through her mouth as she chews, through her fingertips as she breaks her bread and now through her still crossed legs at the side of the table as he reaches over and for a moment gently caresses them.

"I enjoyed this afternoon with you." David tells Scarlet looking into her eyes, now more yellow than green. The young waitress arrives and asks if they are enjoying their meal. "Lovely," David says still looking at Scarlet, in a voice directed not the waitress but at Scarlet's eyes, which are wide now, with a hint of wildness in them.

"You look beautiful when you come." David tells her. Her chest and cheeks are flushed - it's not a blush, but a flush from the wine and the stirring that is flowing through her veins now and building inside her. "I didn’t know what to expect." she says quickly, "I was so nervous this morning driving here. I thought of turning back, but something kept me going on. I knew I just had to meet you, after these months, all of our emails, they made me feel so alive somehow. I just had to meet the man behind them." She talks fluidly now, like she did when she chatted to him through her computer keyboard, avoiding what he said about how she looked when she came.

But he is not to be distracted. He brings the conversation back to this afternoon. She begins to see the man she knew from his emails. He focuses the conversation with an intensity, always polite, but sometimes so direct. He tells her how she looked when he found her waiting for him on the bed, her body bare under the glare of the harsh overhead light. She remembers he had talked in an email of his fantasy of meeting someone for the first time naked under the covers in a dark room — she had almost expected that, and, in fact, it was one of her fantasies too. But his description of seeing her was so vivid, the shadow of shaved hair on her underarms, the soles of her feet against the white sheets, the tuft of hair between her legs. "I knew you would do what I asked." he tells her. She can’t help herself. She feels a need to confess, like she confessed to the priest every week when she was a child. She doesn’t understand the urge to bare herself to him but she blurts it out. She tells him how she almost didn’t put the handcuffs on, how she almost wore her sweater instead of the blouse. He looks at her and smiles. "He wanted me to feel that way," she thinks to herself, and suddenly feels a surge of freedom, a licence to be herself, to be the hopes and desires that until now have lived only in her mind.

She looks again at the couple at the next table. They have ordered steaks, too, and are eating them in silence. The man in the suit looks again at Scarlet, his look not flirty and hopeful as it was before, but forlorn like a man looking in from the outside.

Scarlet looks back at David. He wipes the corners of his mouth with the napkin, empties the wine that is left in the bottle into her glass. It is only then she realizes this is the second bottle. He raises his glass to her, she touches her glass to his, and together they drink it down. "Let's go," he says.

"Just a minute," she replies and gets up to go to the washroom, a little unsteady at first from the wine. She senses him watches her, not like he watched the waitress earlier, now his eyes are full, shouting out the tension in his body, baring his desire and the need in his loins. She returns, he is ready to leave. As they near the doorway, he puts his hand on her waist, directing her, his fingers applying a firm, suggestive pressure. She reaches back, puts her fingers around his, squeezing. She wants to say, "Let's go back to the hotel," but she just turns and looks at him, the wildness in her eyes growing.

They walk back out into the street. It is dark now, a gust of wind blows through their hair. The street is busy, people walking quickly, the same men on the corner, the same women displaying their bodies and staring down the men in their cars as the men drive slowly past. Scarlet in a way feels at one with these women, her walk a now more of a strut, seemingly ready to thrust out her breasts at the nearest man who shows the remotest interest in her. She puts her arm around David's waist, running her fingers firmly over his back and hip.

David doesn’t see the activity on the street. He is walking hurriedly half a step ahead of Scarlet. His mind is focused, his eyes hunting - his destination clear. He spots the opening he was searching for. "Come on," he says to Scarlet, taking her hand, his walk urgent now. They turn down an alley, he pulls her in behind a pile of pallets, presses her up against the brick wall and kisses her full on the lips, his hands grasping her hair. She meets his lips, her open mouth wet. She feels his tongue on the insides of her teeth. She sucks it, he probes, she releases and slides her tongue over the insides of his teeth. His eyes a wide stare, looking into hers, which are wild now and determined. His fingers begin to unbutton her blouse. At the same time, her fingers begin to unbuckle his belt, and unzip his pants. She finishes first and claims her prize. She falls to her knees, pulling his pants down as she kneels. She grasps his cock, erect and red, in one hand. In her other hand she takes one cheek of his ass and pulls him toward her as she gulps the head of his cock into her mouth. She squeezes the base between her fingers and squeezes his balls now too, causing him to rear back in pain. "Ugh" he says and thrusts his hips forward, forcing his cock deeper into her mouth. She gasps, withdraws back and, more controlled now, begins to work him. She sucks the head between her lips, tonguing it as she arks down his shaft, varying the pressure, teasing and swirling with her tongue. Both hands now move to his butt, kneading it, working in rhythm with her lips and tongue. He gasps, leans forward to support himself against the wall and gives in to the pleasure and to Scarlet's determined sucking. He rocks with her, one hand on her hair and on her cheek. She feels his legs falter for an instant and his cock pulse. She hears him bear down in an immense effort to save himself from hurling like a man in a barrel over Niagara Falls. With a low moan and two hands on either side of her head, he jerks his penis out of her mouth and draws her up to him. "I want to fuck you," he growls desperately.

There is an old mattress standing against the brick wall. He pushes it onto the ground and in the same movement their two bodies are down on top of it. They kiss again, he fumbles with the last button of her blouse and unclips her bra. Then, at the same time, they both grab her crimson panties and pull them down and off her legs. He is on her, her skirt hiked up exposing her brown pubic hair and her soft white belly. He mouths her breasts, biting them with his lips while one hand reaches between her legs, feeling her incredible wetness. Her whole body contracts as his hand brushes against the red nugget of her clit. He understands without thinking that she needs it as much as he does, and he feels that now too because when he releases his lips from her nipple, she grabs his hair in both hands and pulls his head up to hers and clenches his bottom lip between her teeth. He slides his forearms under her shoulders, and positions his legs between hers. She spreads her legs farther apart, her pelvis tilts in anticipation of it. He thrusts with one motion, not forceful but not gentle, the head of his penis insistent, pushing against her vagina, her vagina calling out, imploring him to penetrate her. Having found its mark, his cock draws back, then rushing onward penetrates her like a wave. He draws back and thrusts forward again into the depths of her wet darkness. She meets him, entreats him again, and he thrusts again, groaning, burying himself inside her, his pelvis grinding down on hers, their soft flesh meeting.

Their bodies lock into a rhythm. A forceful, barely controlled fucking rhythm. As through a fog, Scarlet hears laughter and footsteps. She looks up. Coming down the alley is a woman - the woman with the black leather skirt and boots who watched her so intently on the street earlier. The woman has a man with her, he has his arms around her, one hand up under the woman's top, squeezing her breast. They watch Scarlet and David as they approach. The man stumbles trying to watch them as he walks, laughs, and blurts out at no one in particular, "Christ!" The woman pulls him onward and he yells back at David in a slurred voice, "Give ‘er, boy!" David smiles, looks into Scarlet's wild eyes and presses his lips softly against hers as they continue their unrelenting rhythm.

The woman stops about twenty feet down on the other side of the alley, sits spread legged on a pile of pallets and fumbles with the man's belt and zipper. Scarlet can see the woman's legs wrapped around the man now, and leaning her head to one side, Scarlet sees the white cheeks of the man's ass humping. The other woman is watching Scarlet and David fuck. The eyes watching her makes Scarlet feel wilder still, like a cougar or a lioness, her amber eyes blazing. She meets his thrusts now banging her pelvis against his, her cunt ferocious, incensed. She runs her fingers fiercely under David's shirt and up his back, clinging to him, pulling him toward her with all her strength. Her nails dig like claws into his back. David growls a low, gutterel growl as the pleasure is intensified by the pain. His thrusts are more desperate, his body arching exaggeratedly with each thrust. Her throat opens, she screeches violently as her whole body, centred now on her fucking pussy, tightens and tenses. David feels her surge and meets it, his fingers holding her shoulders pulling her to him, driving her pussy down onto his cock as he fucks in and up, and in and up, his body a hurricane of passion, a violent force surging, stronger and stronger. And in one long breath they come together like two ships colliding in a storm, their bodies wracked, the tension broken. They fall into one another's arms exhausted and full of wonder.

They lay together for two brief minutes, fix their clothes, then get up, weak-kneed and begin to walk back out the alley to the street. Scarlet looks back at the other woman, still sitting open-legged on the pallet as the man stumbles to pull up his pants. The other woman who has seen so much sex in her life looks fearful, almost embarrassed — like she has trespassed upon a shrine which she had no right to enter, like she has witnessed not a fuck but a spell.

They go out to the street, with its bright lights glaring into their eyes, and David hails a cab. As they climb in, Scarlet wipes the sweat off his brow and straightens his brown, thick hair. Their bodies melt together and they kiss the softest kiss with their lips still shaking.

The taxi drives on to the address David gave the driver. They get out of the cab, bodies still touching. It's a bar. The doorman opens the door and they go inside. Scarlet recognizes the haunting blues beat. They walk together to the crowded dance floor, still smelling of sweat and sex and dance slowly, their bodies moving together. They are one body still, the ferocious fucking having given way now to slow loving as they dance the dance of two bodies and souls together.

After the dance, they walk together to the bar. David orders drinks and Scarlet rests her body against him, purring. They listen to the band in silence, feeling the intoxicating rhythms. After a short while they look to each other and their lips touch again. "Let's go," Scarlet whispers into his mouth.

They return to the hotel room and without turning on the lights they take off their clothes and fall into the bed. David's kisses are soft, on her lips, on her cheek, on her neck. He lightly caresses her hair with one hand while the other hand traces the line of her neck and shoulder. Scarlet breathes a slow deep breath, raises her head close to his and says softly, "I started something earlier that I want to finish." He lays back down onto the bed. She moves lightly down his body, positions herself between his legs and wraps her lips around the head of his still swelling penis.