"I was surprised how easy it was, actually," I said, ending up opting for a kind of stream of consciousness approach to cope with my temporary lack of word power - a salesman's technique, just keep talking. "I guess it makes me sound lazy, but when you're in control, you give me this strange peace of mind - I know how to please you, because you're telling me how. It makes me feel this huge… serenity, I guess."
"I can understand that," she said. "The women you were with before… they didn't tell you how to make them feel good?"
"Nope," I said. "I guess I never hooked up with the right kind of girls, but they always seemed to want to get me off as fast as possible, and that was it."
"I guess it's that social pressure to seem like a good lay for the man," Zoey said. "But they don't help themselves by doing it like that."
"Men always get the blame for failing to give women orgasms - but it's not only our fault, I think," I said. "I mean, I think if you gave most men the choice, 99 percent would want to give their partner a good time while having sex."
"A lot of women fear the guys will feel humiliated to be told what to do - or even quietly asked."
"And most of them would be wrong, I think. It's an unbelievable turn on to genuinely satisfy a woman you care about. That's the bottom line."
"But guys don't like asking directions, do they?" Zoey chuckled.
I smiled. "And how many of them are happy to use sat-nav these days to get somewhere new? They might not enjoy asking, but they don't mind being given directions."
"You don't find it degrading when I… use you?"
"No. Fulfilling, exhilarating. Not degrading," I said. "Humility's not the same as humiliation - I guess it's like religious leaders, when they do things like wash people's feet - it shows their modesty and respect, it's not degrading."
"I don't want to degrade you," she said. "I want to make you feel as amazing as you make me feel."
"It doesn't hurt that you're the most beautiful girl I've ever known."
"That's not a reason."
I shrugged. "I see you, and I can't help but crave contact with you, as up close and personal as possible. And there's nothing as close and personal as going down on you."
"You are such a dirty boy."
"What can I say? I love it when you shove your hot, wet pussy in my face."
At that, Zoey actually blushed.
"You do actually like it, then?" she said, her voice tinged with skepticism, lifting one of her feet onto the couch between us now, as if to examine the subject of our conversation. Under her little pink skirt, she was wearing a white cotton thong, which fit well with the look of purity she appeared to be going for on this particular evening.
"More than anything," I said, reaching forward to skim the back of my forefinger along her inner thigh, up to the edge of her soft cotton underwear. "Never mind the fact that your taste and your scent drive me wild, it's also so sexy to have your thighs either side of my head and my face buried in your sweet pussy."
She giggled. "I love how filthy you are, Aide."
"I love how filthy you are," I returned. "I never asked you to sit on my face that Friday afternoon."
She nodded. "I was really upset. I wasn't really thinking - I'd been after you so long, and you'd ignored me the whole time. And you were so horrible to me. I was just frustrated."
"Then I'm glad I frustrated you. A little glad, anyway."
"I don't know, I guess I thought I'd humiliate you or something, I'd be ridiculing your masculinity, and maybe you'd feel you had to leave the company."
"You wanted me to leave?"
"A little. Up until when you started licking my pussy."
I felt a little shiver course through her body as my finger grazed over her mound and down over the pure white cotton to the part that was covering her pussy, which was already becoming somewhat damp.
"I don't know what I was thinking," she said. "I guess I thought I could somehow... sexually harass you, make your life as hard as you made mine. Only, it turned out to be a little more fun than I expected."
"I'll say."
*
She sent me downstairs to dispose of the empty pizza box, and when I returned to the bedroom, I found that Zoey was also naked, her hair now tied up in a bun behind her head, making her look a little like a ballet dancer.
She had a purple bottle in her hands.
"You wanna try something fun?" she asked.
"Sure," I said, a little confused.
She tipped the bottle up over her breasts, and some kind of oil seeped out to slosh over her skin. I just stood back to watch as she smiled, and began sweeping her hands over her body, coating herself in the slick lubricant.