After a few deep breaths and some concentrated thoughts on unsexy things like my great aunt Mildred, the smell of pigeon shit, and doing my taxes, my heart rate slowed and my cock seemed to get the message.
I made a fresh pot of coffee, dumping what was left over from this afternoon. The words hadn’t been flowing too well today, and I’d hoped a caffeine infusion would help. But mostly I’d spent the day brooding over Natalie, annoyed that I couldn’t stop thinking about her. But there was nothing I could do about it. She was a relationship person; I was not.
The End.
But fucking Dan! What had he done to her tonight to make her show up here like this? It was torture! I’d fucked girls with boyfriends in the past, I’d fucked friends in the past, and I certainly had no hang-ups about no-strings-attached sex, but something inside me would not go there with her. She was different.
She was also drunk.
She had to be, throwing herself at me that way, saying those things. That wasn’t like her at all. Blindfold her? Tie her up? Jesus, I loved the thought that there might be a kinky side of Natalie to explore, but the circumstances here were too fraught with the wrong kind of tension. Until I was confident that she wasn’t coming after me just to spite her boyfriend, I wasn’t going to risk ruining our friendship over one night of hot sex. It was bad enough I said those things to her…although I’d meant them.
Fuck yes, I’d meant them. I wanted nothing more than to tease her, play with her, make her vulnerable for all the right reasons. I wanted to see her naked and needy beneath me, her skin slick with sweat, her legs open for me. I’d make her come with my tongue first, use my fingers inside her, and when she was drenched and panting and whispering my name, I’d slide into her, slowly at first, make her feel every inch of my hard—
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Again?
Adjusting myself so my erection wasn’t pinned painfully inside my jeans, I briefly considered going upstairs to jerk off before the coffee was done. It would only take a minute. But then I heard a few muffled sobs coming from the living room, and my chest caved a little. She needed me more than my dick did. Sorry, buddy. Usually I put you first, but not tonight.
I found some Motrin in a kitchen cabinet, poured a glass of water and then some coffee, and I put everything on a tray I saw lying on the counter. Feeling pleased with myself, I carried the tray into the living room, set it on the coffee table, and switched on a lamp.
She was curled in a ball on the couch, her shoes on the floor, one bare foot covering the other one. Her dress had ridden up, and I willed myself not to peek at her crotch.
OK, I peeked. She was wearing black lace panties. Fuck.
But her face was buried in her hands, and her whole body shook with sad, pitiful sobs.
“Hey. Come on. It’s not that bad.” I sat down next to her and put a hand on her back.
“Yes, it is,” she wept.
“Talk to me. What happened tonight?” I patted her as she kept crying, feeling a little awkward. Usually when a woman cries, I find any possible escape hatch, but I wanted to comfort Natalie, who had never been a crier, even as a kid. The only other time I’d ever seen her cry, in fact, was the night we said goodbye up here. Another near miss for us. Were we always destined to have this bad timing?
I reached for her arm and pulled her up to a sitting position, then gathered her close so her cheek rested on my chest. Immediately she brought her knees up toward her chin, tucking her little feet between my legs. Her arms were folded into her chest, and I wrapped my arms around her whole body, legs and all. The tears stopped, and her breathing slowed. I lowered my face to her hair and inhaled.
God, she smells delicious.
I tried not to think about tomorrow, when she’d go back to that fucker, and he’d be the one who got to hold her.
Eventually she pulled away from me, putting her feet on the floor. “I have to blow my nose. I’ll be right back,” she said, hiding her face from me as she hurried from the room.
I heard the bathroom door open and close, and she was gone for several minutes. For a moment, I worried she was sick from the alcohol, but she reappeared in the living room looking puffy-faced and pink-eyed, but otherwise OK.
I picked up the Motrin from the tray and held them out to her. “Here. Take these.”
“Thanks.” She dropped onto the couch and took the pills from me, then popped them in her mouth. After drinking the entire glass of water, she picked up the coffee cup and sipped.
“Better?”
“Yeah. The world is just a little topsy turvy right now. I’m a bit dizzy.”
“Been there. Want to get some air?”
She inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Yes.”