Dying For Sex(5)

She liked him holding her. She felt safe with him. “I’m buying whatever you’re selling, mister. What should I do first?”

“Kiss the first guy you see!”

Mara laughed. “You’re not shy. If you want it, come get it.”

His smile barely fit on his face. He stretched it out to squeeze all the juice out of their first kiss. She watched him slowly move closer, his lips so damn close, as he gazed into her eyes.

This stud is going to kiss me, she kept repeating to herself.

Their embrace changed subtly, although their feet still moved to the music. He pulled her in tighter, his hands now roaming her body. Mara could feel the coals thrown in her furnace. She suddenly felt hot in her light jacket.

She felt him kiss her forehead, then move down her face to her cheek. By the time he reached her mouth, she leaped into him, unable to wait a second longer. She attacked his face like an alien on Sigourney Weaver, desperate to get her tongue down his throat. Honestly, she had never reacted this way to a man before. She never knew such horniness. They didn’t stop kissing so much as break off to suck down oxygen.

“Wow,” he said. “I’ve heard of Five Minute Kisses, but I’ve never had one before.”

“I haven’t kissed a guy since prom,” she confessed.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Coach said I would never make the Olympics if I got involved with anyone. I competed so much that mom home schooled me through most of high school. To stop getting hit on, I never wore makeup and dressed in loose clothes.”

“Did that work?” he asked with a smile.

“No!” She laughed at herself, more comfortable with him than her mother. “So I pretended to be a bitch.”

“Pretended?” he asked in mock shock.

She gave in. “Okay, okay. I was a bitch. But only because I had to devote myself 100% to training and competitions. What little time I had left I spent on studying. Then, no sooner do I earn my diploma than I learn I’m dying.”

“I bet you stopped being a bitch when you learned an incurable disease was cutting your life short.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “How did you know?”

“I told you. I’ve got experience and stuff. Those who were bitches discover their humanity. It’s the nice ones who make hell for their loved ones. It all depends on attitude. How you react to your diagnosis determines your level of bitterness.”

“I’m pretty bitter.”

He disagreed. “You should be, but you’re not. I’ve seen bitterness. Anyone here can tell you stories that will shock your shorts off. You’re just relatively bitter compared to before, but you’re not bitter compared to some people I’ve known. My mom turned psycho when she became ill, but my father took it stoically. You know the very last thing he did in life?”

“What?”

“He died well. He quoted some French dude named Montaigne that it takes greater moral fortitude to die well than to live well. He made peace with himself. With his last words, he told me how much he loved me.”

“Wow. So that’s why you’re not an asshole.”

“My mother’s ugly death cleansed me of asshole-ness. Now I live every day as if it was my last. Speaking of which, have you made a bucket list?

“A fuck-it list? Oh, I’ve got lots of those.”

“No. A list of things you want to do before you kick the bucket. You never saw that movie?” Something changed in her eyes. “You do have a list!” Her eyes gave her away again. “You have it with you, don’t you?”

“Noooooooo!”

But, of course, she did. Mike’s hands had already moved to her nice little booty and there he felt paper in her back pocket. And a great ass. His fingers lingered there, exploring, grabbing, caressing. The vixen stood on her tip toes just so he could get his fingers farther down her crack.

God it felt so good!

With a flourish he took her the paper and unfolded it with one hand, while locking her in his embrace with the other.

“Let’s see. #1: lose my virginity. Are you kidding me? How can someone so hot still be a virgin?” he demanded.

“You think I’m hot?”

“Everyone thinks you’re hot. Frank thought you were hot, and he can barely see. The horny bugger. How can you look in the mirror and not see how totally hot you are?”

“Dude, you have no idea how self-critical I am. I wouldn’t have won so many competitions if I didn’t constantly search out my flaws.”

“Then you need someone to point out the good stuff. Like those eyes. Damn, they’re like those lasers that teenagers use to blind pilots when they take off. And that mouth! It’s like halibut that melts on my tongue. And don’t get me started on that booty.”