6. Willow

She made me wait all day. I mean, she might have been sleeping--I don’t know the exact schedule of sleep when it comes to her profession. But I still checked my phone every few minutes. Made myself get up and make a coffee while I left the phone behind on the desk, trying to pretend it wasn’t the first thing that I wanted to check the moment I sat down.

When her first message came, it was her name that made me smile the most. Lola. I have never met anyone called Lola before, and of all the names in the world I could have imagined, Lola wasn’t one I would have thought of. And yet, the moment I saw it in the text, I could see that was who she was. Inside and out. Lola.

I’m not down for playing games. In the just few minutes we shared together, I saw more of her body than I have ever seen of my own. I felt her flesh on mine, smelled her sex, tasted her skin. I don’t need to play phone tennis for a week in order to make plans. I want to know more than her body.

Suitopia is a good option for our meeting. Middle of the city, neutral ground, not so fancy that I would run into anyone who has my mother on speed dial, but also not divey. Just a nice cocktail bar where the drinks taste good and the music fills the silence, but you can still lean in, talk, and get to know someone.

I made a lot of effort, then spent the rest of the time in front of the mirror making it look like I hadn’t. Ruffled up ponytail, slightly smudged makeup after a perfect application. My shirt had been tucked and untucked so many times that I surrendered and tucked it in the end to hide the creases I had made.

Lola is already there when I arrive, not at the bar but at a table. I smile because it is exactly the one I would have chosen. I wonder if my desire for her will be as strong as it was on that night, now that her clothes are on. She still doesn’t see me, so I take a moment to check her out.

Her hair is down in long messy dark curls, which makes her look like she has just stepped out of a shampoo ad. And she’s facing me, perched on a high stool. Although she is slightly hidden from my view, I can see she’s wearing jeans and a tight tee shirt. Nothing fancy. She is effortlessly gorgeous. So many women would spend hours in front of a mirror and still never look as good as that. Lola is natural, beautiful. My smile turns into a grin as I approach.

“Hey,” she says, her voice trailing off. She smiles back. I realize this is the first time hearing her voice. It’s sweet like honey, and soft. If Lola had called me on the phone, I would have thought she was much younger, yet that sweetness suits her. She has an innocence you would never see on stage.

“Hey to you too,” I reply, as I step up and sit on a chair, slowly unwrapping my scarf as I reach for a cocktail menu. “What did you order?” I ask, with a nod to her glass.

“A Showgirl,” Lola says with a grin. I laugh.

“The perfect choice. Will you choose mine?” I slide the menu across and her eyes widen.

“What?So much pressure! I don’t know what you like. I could make a horrible choice and then you would most definitely judge me.”

I laugh at her genuine concern. “I won’t judge you. Surprise me. I like surprises.”

Lola’s eyebrows lift questioningly. “Well, that surprises me. You don’t seem like the type to enjoy surprises at all. In fact, I already had you figured for a ‘life plan at eighteen’ kind of woman.”

“Try fifteen,” I say, with a wry smile. “But that’s just one side of my life. The other . . . I like to feel the surprise in other areas.” My voice trails off as a server arrives. Lola points to the menu, ordering me something. I don’t care what it is. I know I will like it just because she chose it.

Small talk has never been my best skill. I find it awkward and a complete waste of time. But Lola is a chatterbox. Words tumble from her lips in a neverending flow of warmth and genuine curiosity, which makes me find everything she has to say interesting.

As her green eyes glitter with excitement, and I find myself swept away by her childlike joy.

The waiter brings over my drink. I can see right away that I would never have chosen it. An exuberant display of excess—cream and chocolatey swirls with who knows what blend of alcohol.

But I smile at Lola over the top of my glass, leaning in as my lips part and my tongue extends to find the straw. I take it in and give a slow suck, feeling the cold blend of ice cream, alcohol and other flavors I can’t put my finger on.

The drink is delicious. Like a dessert made for adults, creamy with a kick of naughtiness. I take a longer sip than I planned because it just tastes that good. I watch Lola settle back in her seat with an almost smug smile on her face.

“You like?” she asks playfully, and I nod with a smile.

“I really do.”

I watch Lola move almost in slow motion when, as the straw slips from my lips, she sits forward, reaching. The pad of her thumb runs across my bottom lip. I feel the cream smear as she does it, then I see it on her thumb as she pulls away. Without even a second thought, she slips it between her own lips and sucks it clean.

It is the single sexiest thing I have ever seen and it nearly makes me gasp out loud.

“Maybe a little too creamy for me, but I had you down as the secret sweet tooth type,” she says with a smile. Lola seems almost oblivious to the effect she has on me.

“Maybe a little, but keep it to yourself,” I remind her.

“I want to know more of your secrets,” Lola says. Her lack of filter, her directness--it’s refreshing. She catches me off guard and makes me feel tingles at the same time.

“You can ask me anything,” I say, as I take another drink of my creamy delight.

“Hamburger or hotdog?”

“Burger.”

“Yellow or blue?”

“Blue.”

“Born rich or self-made?”

“Born.” Not even a flicker at the answer, so I know she already knew.

“Lesbian, bi, or just curious?”

I screw my face up at the question.

If only I knew.

“No idea,” I say. That brings a flicker of contemplation to her eyes, but it’s barely there before it’s gone.

“You?” I put the same question back to her before she has chance to ask something else, and Lola rewards me with a smile.

“I didn’t say you could ask me anything, but in this case I can answer . . . hot dog, yellow, neither, and a lesbian.” With that, she finishes her drink. “One more question, then. My place or yours?”

I think about this one. Obviously there is a third answer, but it’s not one I’m willing to think about. I want her. I don’t care where it happens--but at the same time, I like to feel in control. I reply, “My place.”

We could have walked. I would have walked except it all felt too far, too cold. Too much. So we take a cab, which took only a few minutes, but I am pleased with the choice as we sit in nervous, yet excited silence.

I can’t stop thinking of when her pussy was so close to my mouth I could almost taste her, I admit to myself.

I pay and we exit and enter my building. As we walk through the marbled foyer, Lola lets out a low whistle.

“I am pleased you chose your place,” she remarks. “I would have died of embarrassment after seeing this.”

The elevator dings. We step inside and I give her a tender smile. “I wouldn’t be looking at your place as much as I would be looking at you,” I say.

Lola turns to me slowly. Even though we are nearly the same height, her eyes are slightly lower than mine, so she has to look up to meet my gaze. I like the way that feels. It makes me feel protective of her, even though she’s the one who stops to softly sweep the hair from my cheek. It’s a sweet moment. All too quickly, the doors ping open.

“Saved by the bell!” she says, and I laugh as I lead us to my apartment. I fumble with the keys, showing my nerves, but then the door finally swings open.

I really didn’t expect to have Lola over tonight, but luckily, I always have wine and a pristine place, so that isn’t an issue. Turns out, I don’t have to show her around either. Lola is exploring, going in and out of each room, looking at things. She is even opening drawers.

I feel my eyebrows raising. I’ve never met anyone quite like Lola. There is something so refreshing about her.

I head to the kitchen. “White or red?” I call out.

“White.” I hear another cupboard open and close.

“You know, I don’t think you’re supposed to go through people’s houses while they’re still there. You’re supposed to wait until they’ve left,” I say with a grin. I slide Lola’s glass across the counter as she walks through to the kitchen. She shrugs.

“I think it is better to not hide these things. I am interested in you. I have looked and that has piqued my interest more. I’ve seen the things you choose to show and some of the things you want to hide. It only makes me want to know you more.” Lola takes a long, deep drink. I’m surprised she can even taste the wine; she swallowed it so quickly.

Lola leaves the glass on the counter and saunters to the living room. As she settles on my sofa, she looks like she belongs there, her dark hair stark against my creamy suede sofa. Lola is so incredibly beautiful, almost classically so, with her make up more refined than it was while she was working.

“Why don’t you come and join me?” she askes softly. As I move toward her, she adds, “Leave the wine.”

I do, of course I do. And then I cover the distance as she pats her lap. I feel dizzy, my pulse racing as I slowly straddle her.

“I can feel my heart beating in my chest,” I admit as I sit on her lap, my legs softly and slowly spreading, so I can settle on her thighs.

“I wonder where else I can hear it,” she says with a low voice. Heat sizzles through the air between us.

“Where do you think?” I ask, but I am nervous, cautious.

“I don’t know. Where do you think?” She won’t give me an out. Lola wants to push me.

“I imagine you might hear it anywhere if you got close enough. I can feel my heartbeat all through my body.”

“Then I’ll have to listen all over,” she says softly, her voice low as I watch her lips.

“You will.”

“l will have to start at your chest,” she decides, and I nod.

“I think that’s the best place to start,” I agree.

Lola leans in slowly, pressing her ear against my chest. My heart is beating loud . . . fast . . . hammering . . . so I try to control it with deep slow breaths. Calm thoughts. But it doesn’t work. Still those fast, loud beats, just for her. And Lola listens to every one.

“Don’t break it,” I whisper softly, wondering where the words came from. I barely even know her, but this is how I feel, like she has me in the palm of her hand. Right before my hands drop to her jaw, soft palms against her skin, tilting her up. I lean down and give her a kiss on her beautiful, full lips. Lola’s lips are so very seductive and kissing them is exactly the thrill I thought it might be. The kiss is deep, slow and delicate, and she kisses me back. Slow. Delicate in return. Letting me know her intention isn’t to break my heart.

My lips part a little, just to take a breath of her. Gentle and tentative, I draw her air in. My eyes close and I savor it, savor her. And when my eyes open slowly, I feel the tingles, tiny trembles, so close, so near, that my heartbeat doesn’t stand a chance. “It’s late,” I manage, but even those two words are difficult for me to get out.

She nods and nuzzles against me, placing a kiss right on my chest. “It is,” she agrees, but makes no movement away. My fingers are still on her jaw as her head drops to my chest. I thrust my hands back into her wonderful glossy dark hair. The slow run of my fingers through her hair, then a press of my palm, holding Lola right against my chest. “Maybe . . . maybe we should sleep. Rest. You can stay here.”

I want to do so much more with her but I feel my inexperience deeply. It is all so overwhelming that I’m not sure where to start.

“Do you think we should sleep?” she asks, and her voice is seductive.

I pause between what I should say and the truth. “Yes,” I pause, “but I don’t want to,” I add.

“Then don’t.”

“What do you want?” I can hear the edge of neediness in my voice as I ask her.

“You to stay awake with me.”

“If I stay awake with you, what will we do?”

“I could make you feel more trembles. More tingles,” Lola says softly, and I have no doubt that she could.

“You could . . . but will you?”

She gives me another kiss on my chest and drags her chin along it as she looks back at me. “Yes.”

I feel it, instantly, straight between my thighs. The race of my pulse there, the flush of heat. “I want to feel it all.”

“What do you want to feel?” she asks and places another kiss on my chest. I can’t take my eyes off her. My heart is beating so fast that I feel dizzy with it. Blurring what I think and what I should say. So it all tumbles from me. “I want to feel you.”

She kisses down my body so slowly. Lips touching me over and over again. Her tongue drags a little down my body.

I swallow. My mouth feels dry and it’s just so hard to catch my breath. So many kisses . . . the drag of her tongue . . . my fingers stretch, then grab the blanket hanging over the sofa, bunching it in my palm. I grip it as I start to tremble harder. And her expert hands move effortlessly over my body, over my clothes, and they start to undo and remove them. But it is all so skillful, so gentle, that I barely notice as I come undone.

She kisses through my trembles as she makes her way down further. She runs along my thigh with her mouth.Down slowly and then back up just as slow, and the slowness is overwhelming . . . I’m aching. Aching for more. My panties stick to me. I’m already so wet. I can feel it, and I feel shy for her to know how little control I have over how much I want her.

She stops and then presses a kiss right against my wet panties and then nuzzles her face in. My clitoris throbs in response.

“Lola . . . Please . . .” I don’t know what I’m saying, what I’m asking. Just that I am desperate for more of her, that I want to feel her tongue against me.

She gives me another kiss and then another. I know she can feel my wetness through my panties. “Please what, baby?” she asks soft and low right against my panties.

Her kisses give me a little pressure, the tease of relief, but it’s not enough. Her words vibrate against me. Making me tense and tremble more. “Please . . . please lick me . . . I want to feel your tongue . . .”

“Can you lift up your ass for me, baby?” Her voice is rich like silk.

I nod. My knees press into the sofa, hips slowly thrusting up, holding them there as my ass slowly leaves her lap and she lifts me slowly, lowering me back onto the rug. She slides me into place where she wants me before she moves to the top of my panties and grips them between her teeth. Then she slowly pulls them down, gently moving them down my legs. Her mouth, her nose, runs over my pussy.

“Oh . . .” I let out a moan. I can feel the exposure of the silk of my panties peeling from me, sticking in places because I’m so wet. Then her face runs over me, against me, and it feels so fucking good.

She returns to my pussy and gives me a kiss. A slow one. And then a lick. A deep one.

And I react on instinct. My thighs part further as my eyes close. She kisses my vulva so slowly it’s like she is making out with me, then a lick, deep and long, pushing inside me, pulling out of me . . .

She is making me lose my senses.

She is driving me crazy.

Her nose drags along against me. Her tongue flicks and swirls over and over against me.

I can see the mess of her hair between my legs. Her eyes are closed. She looks so incredibly beautiful.

I’ve never felt like this before during sex. This is something entirely new and completely incredible. I want to give every part of myself to her and take every part of her from her.

My hands reach for her. My nails lightly run up her back to show my hunger and my palm gently rests against the back of her head to show her my need. I draw her face tighter against me as my hips slowly thrust up. I hold her in place, so close to me so all she can breathe and taste and smell is me.

I don’t want to take over, but I can’t seem to stop myself. Another run of my nails up her back. My feet slide up, knees bending and spreading outwards so I can open myself completely for her. Then I pull her face against me again. Both hands. And I grind hard. She lets out a moan right into my pussy as I grind against her face. She licks me again and again. Her tongue flicks and swirls as I grind harder, making her struggle to breathe every now and then. When she does, it’s all me.

I can feel my own neediness in her, too, in every lick and press against me. She attacks me hungrily with her mouth.

I am needy for her. I need to see my pleasure dripping from her face, no limits or lines. “Does it make you feel like I own you?” I gasp.

“Yes.” She nods and I feel her mouth move against me as she does. “It does. It makes me feel like you own me.”

“Is that what you want?” My voice is so slow, soft, higher than normal because she is still edging me, bringing me to that place where only she exists in my entire world. “You want to serve me?”

“Yes.” She nods again against me. “I want to serve you.”

“No lines? No limits?” My fingers tighten in her hair, and I thrust up harder, a deeper grind. Taking her air five . . . ten . . . fifteen . . . twenty seconds. I wonder how long she could drown in my pussy for.

“No lines or limits,” she says, struggling to get the words out as I thrust up and grind deeper and take more air away from her.

“I want to cross every line . . . push every limit.” She doesn’t need words; this is what she needs. I grind again and this time my legs close, curling around her to draw me into her hard, holding her in place. I love that she wants to serve me. Whenever I need to be pleasured, she’ll be there, eager for me . . . My thoughts have run wild and so has my body. I tense and wrap tightly around her, feeling it all take over, every single wave of pleasure I take and fall into. I am shaking, trembling, reaching the peak . . . and then I let go. A hot rush of me covers her tongue and her lips, smeared across her face as I orgasm hard with no inhibitions or reservations.

I feel like I black out for a minute. It is hard to tell where I am or what is real. But as the room comes into focus, all I can see is Lola. Covering my skin in kisses. I am naked while she is completely dressed, and the irony isn’t lost on me. As if she can hear my thoughts, she looks up at me with a grin.

“I thought it was only fair.” And before she can even let out a laugh, I am reaching for her, pulling her to me and on top of me so my lips press hard against hers. I taste me, and her, the perfect blend--a delicious combination that I won’t be able to ever get enough of. She collapses onto me and we both give into it, drifting, kissing, and touching each other until the night takes us and we fall asleep, tangled in blankets on the floor.