Mountains Wanted (5 page)

For the first time of
the evening they were both silent. The conversation at dinner had flowed freely
with laughter, with insight, with valid points and counterpoints. One moment
James would make some profound statement, sounding brilliant and so mature, and
then the next minute he’d cast Sarah a boyish look and she would remember that
he hadn’t even seen his 30th birthday yet. She gave up hope for finding what to
say to make the transition to the bedroom, so she decided not to say a word. She
just walked down the hallway from the kitchen and then up the stairs. He
followed. No discussion, no invitation, no words.   

Sarah stood for a moment
beside the bed and watched as James stepped through the threshold of her
bedroom, taking in his surroundings, ever-observant. This is what she’d
tried so hard to picture all week. He seemed to be thinking...
okay, what
comes next?
She caught a glimpse of the candlelight flickering in his eyes,
warm but inquisitive, studying her outline silhouetted against the wall across
from the bed.
This is the first time we've been alone together,
she
noted.
What is he thinking?

There was a little more
small talk, as if they’d taken a step backwards from their dinner conversation.
It was not too terribly awkward but...the question of
who starts this?
lingered in the space between their two bodies as they both sat on the bed,
close but not touching.
Why am I so nervous? I never get this nervous
.
Finally he leaned toward her and she took a deep, expectant breath.
God...it's
been awhile since someone new has been in my bed.
But all her thoughts
melted away as soon as his lips found hers.
Wow...his lips are so soft.
She
felt something electric race up her spine as her fingers ran through his buzzed
hair and brushed the slight stubble appearing on his jawline. All those
restless feelings she had harbored throughout the week disintegrated beneath
his touch, his fingers delineating the outline of her hips, his mouth making a
trail down her neck. The first-time awkwardness evaporated like steam.

She remained completely
clothed: sweater, cami, jeans; feeling constricted as she realized how badly
her flesh was burning to press against his. She lifted his shirt up and over
his head, tossing it across the room. She unclasped her bra and freed her
breasts of the three layers of material preventing their chests from making
skin-to-skin contact. Her fingers traced his well-defined triceps as he
began to lower himself onto her.  She could feel the dampness in her
panties as his body pressed against hers and his lips explored her flesh. 
I
don't know how much longer I can wait to get those pants off you and free your
cock,
she thought, feeling his erection pressing against her pelvis even
through their pants.

He watched her fingers
work her button and zipper, sliding her jeans down her thighs, followed quickly
by her panties, which as she suspected, were soaked with desire. She paused,
letting his eyes absorb their first glimpse of her nude, her curves bathed in
the candlelight. She climbed onto the bed toward him and took his face
into her hands, kissing him deeply. Her hands began to wander, touching and
stroking his well-developed arms and back, feeling the tight mounds of muscles
under her fingertips, her scientific mind listing off the names she’d learned
in her college anatomy class:
deltoids, trapezius, latissimus dorsi.

She leaned over him, her
long, wavy brown hair covering their faces like a veil, kissing his lips again,
then his neck and down his chest and stomach to his thighs. She wanted to
devour him completely, but she tried very hard to pace herself, to slow down
and savor this perfect and gorgeous model of masculinity spread out before her.
He was like a masterpiece; Michelangelo’s
David
in the flesh. She’d
nearly forgotten how wonderful it was to feast upon the supple flesh of a
20-something-year-old, especially flesh broken down and built back up by the
U.S. Military. 
Damn.
There is something to be said for bodies
built by Uncle Sam,
she mused as she glanced up at his face to see his
response to the fact she’d nearly reached his manhood. His eyes burned
into her with white hot intensity, stretching her lips up into a wicked grin,
enjoying having this effect on him.

She lingered over his
thighs and the crevice between his legs and groin, letting him feel her hot
breath against his skin. As patient as she wanted to be, she couldn’t
ignore his swollen cock any longer, lifting its head to her, saluting her,
needing her touch, needing attention. Her tongue circled his balls and
licked up his shaft as a soft sigh escaped his lips. The sigh transitioned into
a moan as her tongue spiraled the head of his cock.
This is like unwrapping
a present for me.  I can’t wait to see how you respond.

She took his length into
her mouth, sliding him deep into her throat and holding him there...gauging his
expression, studying him with her dark eyes. His head was tilted back, his eyes
closed, lips moist and slightly parted.
Mmmmm....I'm going to enjoy this as
much as he will,
Sarah thought as her hands, mouth and lips began to work
in concert, slowly at first and then gradually increasing the tempo, teasing
his rock hard cock until he could take no more and pulled her on top of him. She
kissed him again, straddling his thighs, her hot, moist mound radiating against
his thigh. “It’s your turn now,” he decided, turning her over onto her back
with his strong arms. Her eyes half-closed, she felt his lips on her breasts,
teeth gently raking against her nipples, feeling them harden against his mouth.

James gasped when he
reached Sarah’s sex, finding her dampness had spread to her inner thighs. “You’re
so wet,” he whispered as his tongue slid up her labia, first one side, then the
other sending a tingly shock throughout her body. She could feel how hungry his
mouth was as he eagerly lapped up all her juices. She was already close to
climax, the kissing and touching alone having pushed all her buttons, plus
considering how long it had been...but once he slid one of those thick, tan
fingers she’d admired the night they met into her slit and worked his tongue on
her clitoris at the perfect tempo, she knew for certain she was about to lose control.
 She could feel the tension mounting, her thighs clenching his head, her
hands in his hair, her pelvis lifting toward his mouth as suddenly she soared
off the edge, trembling underneath his face as he savored every spasm against
his lips.

She caught sight of a
wide grin spread across James’ face as he emerged from between her legs and
slid up her body to her face. “Kiss me,” she said, taking his face in her
hands, her own scent filling her nose as she pressed her mouth against his
again. Her hands stroked down his back to his firm backside. She could feel his
hardness pressing against her leg; he repositioned as her hands grasped the
muscular mounds of his posterior, moving his erection nearer to her pubic bone.
Oh my god...so close...my pussy is throbbing
. “I need to feel you inside
me,” her desperation rendered her voice nearly inaudible but her mind continued
speaking without her voice...
I know you are feeling it too
, she thought
...letting the anticipation build is killing us both.

Finally, finally....it's
time....
her synapses were
firing. James murmured, “Oh my god
,”
as he slowly worked his cock
inside her, holding it there, adjusting to the feel of her walls clenching him
tightly. Sarah sighed as he began to thrust into her ever so slowly. She
grinded her hips against him in rhythm, her hands on his ass again, feeling him
reach the depth of her, her legs wrapped around him. His lips found hers again
and she had to keep reminding herself
...I can't believe we've never done
this before...it feels so natural.  

Sarah suddenly felt like
she was observing the scene from above the bed, feeling all the physical
sensations but processing the events in a different dimension. She was
completely overwhelmed by this powerful connection, she couldn’t remember ever
feeling this intensity the first time she was with someone. Her mind began to
narrate the scene from her disembodied vantage:
your cock stroking in and
out of me, my back arching. You’ve taken me into your arms, holding me close to
your chest...trying hard to hold back and make it last. I love the sounds you
are making, the moans, the little phrases...’Oh fuck....oh god....’ just
listening to you is going to make me come... You start to thrust into me harder
and faster.... just...at...that....exact moment.... I'm falling over the
edge...  I’m coming...tensing... releasing....contracting....my pussy
milking your cock, and then you must slow down...savor a bit more....feeling
those last spasms gripping you, taking deep breaths as you keep control of each
deliberate thrust.

She came down from her
orgasmic high and her mind once again joined her body in the present. She
watched his face again, their eyes locked together. She mentally granted him
permission, telling him with her eyes
I want to see you come
and it's at
that moment he moaned, “Oh, god, Sarah...” She felt his body tense, his breath
quicken, his cock throb and harden inside her while she waited for his release.
She watched the orgasm overtake him, holding him in its powerful spell. 
I
absolutely love watching a man climax
, she thought,
knowing that I'm
doing it; I'm giving it to him, a gift.

Afterwards, she lay in
his arms, her hands caressing his chest, aware of the fact they were both
breathless and speechless. Until finally James whispered, his voice soft and
iridescent in their afterglow, "Is it normal for the first time with
someone to feel so natural?"  

She didn’t have to look
at his eyes to know he was as in awe as she was.  She sighed in response,
continuing to stroke him, answering with her touch instead of her voice... The
only sound she heard was her mind crying out:
Oh....that was anything but
normal...there’s never been a first time like that in the history of first
times.

***

James had left Sarah’s
house early the next morning just after the sun came up. They’d slept with
their limbs twisted together like pretzels. Sarah had sent him a text a few
hours later:
One word: Amazing
. She released these three simple words
like shiny balloons out into the atmosphere and watched them float into
oblivion, hoping they’d return.

The first day, it didn’t
bother her that she hadn’t heard back. She was sure he’d gotten busy with work
and hadn’t had time to reply. The night after he’d visited, she lay in bed
alone, pillows strategically surrounding her so it gave the illusion of less
space, less emptiness.
 How can my bed feel even emptier after someone
has shared it than in all the preceding nights?
It was a paradox for which
she had no explanatory theories. And she was rarely lacking an explanatory
theory.

Two days after his
visit, it was Monday and the rat race was back on. Sarah was mildly
irritated that she hadn’t heard back from James, but she wasn’t overly worried.
She continued to periodically glance at her phone, willing it to chime, but
there was nothing. She went to bed that night hopeful that tomorrow would be
the day.

After three days, on
Tuesday, she felt silly, like she had completely misread everything. She
made a living reading people and understanding behavior and motivations, yet
she had been dead wrong about his interest in her, about their connection, about
everything. That night in her lonely bed she once again examined the
ridiculously strong sexual chemistry she felt with him. Or at least what
she thought she had felt.
Have I been out of the game so long that I no
longer know what good sex is? Why did I let my expectations get so out of
control?
She wrapped herself snuggly in the sheets and threw her arm around
a pillow as if it was a body and sobbed a few times before finally surrendering
to sleep. When she awoke, she was angry with herself for being upset. She hated
feeling out of control or too heavily influenced by someone else’s actions or
lack thereof.
Why am I letting someone else control my feelings?
she
begged for answers.

She threw herself back
into her work and vowed to let him come to her.
 I’m not chasing a 29
year old guy,
she resolved. When Rachel asked her how the night went,
that was precisely the answer she received. She refused to provide any
other details about their encounter. Rachel was disappointed but she knew better
than to push her friend. Instead, she offered a diversion: “Come out with Mark
and me this weekend. We’re going to the new club.” Sarah agreed. A
distraction was in order.

Not only did she need a
distraction from the disaster that James McAllister turned out to be, but what
was shaping up to be an intense semester at work as well. She had just accepted
an editorial position for a fairly prestigious journal and article submissions
were coming at her left and right. Added to that was an appointment to a search
committee for a new faculty member in their department, plus the first wave of
exams were starting now that they were a few weeks into the semester. The
kids had gotten into the thick of their busy season as well. Owen had
soccer practice twice a week with games on Saturday mornings, and Abby had
violin lessons plus cross country, which she complained about so much that
Sarah was tempted to let her quit.

And there was a
situation with Abby. Sarah hadn’t been able to shake her disconcerted feeling
about her daughter ever since she found condoms stashed under her bed, two
still sealed in their packets, the other opened and stretched out, but thank
the gods, seemingly empty. Sarah was taken aback. That was something she
had expected to find in her teenage son’s room, not her daughter’s. She wasn’t
upset; concerned was a better description, plus shocked because it seemed so
out of character.
And where did she get them? Was she just experimenting or
did she have a reason to need them?
Sarah wondered.

On that mundane Tuesday
night, Sarah asked Owen to clear the dinner dishes and invited Abby to come
talk with her in her bedroom. Abby snarkily declined her invitation, but once
Sarah adopted her more insistent maternal tone, her daughter hesitantly
complied. She marched down the hallway to her mother’s room with heavy
footsteps, a performance capped off by hurling her 115 pound body onto the bed
in protest.

Sarah took a deep
breath.
Was I this obnoxious when I was her age?
she questioned and
pleaded with the gods to grant her patience. She found her calm voice and
broached the subject as gently as possible, “Abby, I found something in your
room I want to ask you about.”

“Oh, so you’re going
through my stuff now?” came her indignant reply. “That’s just great. Thanks,
Mom, for valuing my privacy!” The sarcasm was so thick, Sarah could have cut it
with a knife.

“Sweetheart, I’m not
angry, and I do value your privacy. I just want to know why you have
condoms in your room.” She witnessed her daughter’s face turning various
shades of red, half with embarrassment, half with anger. “They weren’t exactly
hidden from view,” she explained. “I was putting away your laundry and saw
them under the bed.”  

Abby rolled her eyes. “Well,
you can stop freaking out cause it’s no big deal, Mom. It’s not like
I’m...having sex.” She found it challenging to say the
S word
in
front of her mother, despite her accepting, open attitude. “We have to learn
how to put on a condom on a banana in health class, and well, I was nervous about
it.  I thought I’d practice.”
           
Health
class?
That threw Sarah for a loop. “Your
teacher is showing you how to use condoms?” Suddenly she had never been happier
to teach college instead of high school. She took another deep breath and
continued, “Abby, listen, I’m not mad, I just want to know the truth, okay?”

“That is the truth, Mom.
I can show you a note from the teacher,” Abby said matter-of-factly, her
defensive tone fading. “Some kids’ parents wouldn’t let them participate,
but I knew you wouldn’t care so I didn’t bother showing it to you.”

Sarah considered her
next step very carefully. Should she accept Abby’s explanation or probe more
deeply? She considered her options for pushing for more information.
Choose
your battles
, she told herself. Maybe it was best to show trust; perhaps if
she didn’t force Abby onto the defensive, she might drop the attitude. Sarah
chose a course of action: “Well, I guess I have to commend you for being so
well-prepared for class, huh?”

Abby’s mouth configured
into something that looked vaguely like a smile. It was so unfamiliar to
Sarah at this juncture, she almost didn’t recognize it. “Sorry, I probably
should have showed you the note,” Abby conceded.

“Sweetheart, you know
you can come to me about anything, right?” she reminded her daughter. “I’m not
one of those close-minded, judgmental parents. I’m supportive and I really do want
you to be your own person. I just want to make sure you’re safe, physically and
psychologically, okay?”

Abby nodded and Sarah
thought there might have even been a tiny tear stinging at the corner of her
eyelid.
There might be more she’s not telling me,
Sarah guessed,
but
I think I have to let her come to me at this point.
Abby surrendered to her
mother’s outstretched arms for a close embrace. Sarah couldn’t remember
the last time she had willingly hugged her.

Ah, letting people come
to me. That seems to be the theme of the week.

***

Sarah was not as excited
for her night out with Rachel and Mark as she had hoped to be. She convinced
them to postpone the excursion to Saturday night instead of Friday so she could
catch up on sleep and, feeling like Cinderella, she had also committed to
grading a certain number of exams on Saturday afternoon before she would allow
herself out of the house.
Work before play
, she reminded her friend,
whose priorities often differed. She sat in her favorite armchair warmed
by the strong rays of the September afternoon sun streaming through the panes
of the French doors that led to the deck. Her cat was basking in the
sun-drenched warm spot as Sarah completed grading the requisite number of exams
plus a few more for good measure. The rest could wait till Sunday.

Abby and Owen were both
staying with friends for the weekend, leaving the house eerily quiet. The
shadows cast by the trees onto the back lawn seemed to be whispering to each
other. It was so quiet, Sarah had caught herself audibly voicing her
internal dialogue a few times, just to break the silence. She got up from
her armchair and stretched, moving into the sunlight and startling the cat who
scampered off down the hallway. She stood on one foot and grabbed the
other ankle, pulling it up behind her and leaning forward, feeling her core
muscles stabilize. She tried not to chastise herself for slacking off on her
yoga as she heard the twinkly chime of her phone announcing a new text message.

Thanks. What’s up?

Three words. Seven
days later. From James. The message seemed as if he had just read her own
three word text, the one she’d sent a week ago.
Damn, my heart is racing
,
she suddenly noticed and set her phone back down while she continued to
stretch.
 Must. Calm. Down.
She tried to focus on the pose
again, but her concentration was busy debating her response, throwing off her
balance.

I don’t want to sound
too eager. Or desperate. Patience is a virtue
, she reminded herself.

Two hours later when she
was getting ready to venture out for the night with Rachel and Mark she settled
on a simple, casual reply:
 Not much. Going out tonight.

This time his reply came
immediately:
Oh yeah? Where does a sexy professor go for fun on a Saturday
night?

Sarah felt like playing
coy but she found her lips almost painfully spread into a huge grin to be
interacting with him, the biggest smile she’d mustered all week.
 Wouldn’t
you like to know?
she teased him.

Actually yes. Yes I
would.

She seriously considered
inviting him to go with her for about half a second. Then she remembered the
venue. And that he hadn’t texted her back for a week.
Um, in DC. Sorry,
adults only!

Haha WTF does that mean?
I thought I proved my adulthood the other night.

Sarah giggled like an
adolescent girl, her thumbs flying fast and furiously on her phone’s keyboard.
True,
but you didn’t prove your ability to return texts in a timely manner LOL.
She
wasn’t going to let his lack of communication slide.  

Ah. Sorry. Hope you have
fun.

Sarah decided to just
leave things there. It was all a little game, right? Advancing,
retreating, a dance, a game that men and women played.
Probably not just
straight people either
, she considered.
Hmmm...new research idea
,
she thought to herself. She pulled the same dresses out of the closet that she
had been considering prior to the house party two weeks before and after a
minimum of internal debate slipped the purple one over her head, smoothing it
down around her hips.
Purple for passion
, she thought, swiped her lips
with a burgundy lipstick, grabbed her purse and headed out the door.

***

The club was loud. Sarah
could feel the music pulsating in her bones, rendering it nearly impossible to
avoid swaying her hips in rhythm while Mark and Rachel checked their liquor in
at the bar. That was the way these clubs worked. Guests brought their own
alcohol and a bartender was provided to serve it. Defraying the cost of drinks
balanced the entrance fees for couples and single men, but single women were in
demand at these sorts of venues so they were admitted for a nominal fee. They earned
the nickname “unicorns;” that’s how rare and special they were. Sarah
remembered her reflection in her full length mirror before leaving the house
and how poochy and bloated she was feeling that night.
Ugh, PMS
, she
thought to herself. 
I’m feeling neither rare nor special tonight.
She
felt like playing the role of observer rather than participant.

The bar area looked like
a typical night club. There was low lighting, barstools and tables with chairs.
A few black leather couches lined the walls and the parquet dance floor which
was swirling with colored lights and twinkling disco ball reflections. There
was a large dance cage at the far end featuring a few scantily clad ladies
grinding against each other while the metal casing rocked back and forth in
time to the music. But that’s where the resemblance to a “normal” club
stopped.

Huge television monitors
mounted high in all four corners of the room projected scenes from a biracial
porno. There was a stripper pole set up to the right of the dance floor,
currently unoccupied. Down the hallway from the nightclub area was a large,
steamy room featuring a 16 person hot tub and beyond that 24 themed rooms,
their doors lining each side of two parallel hallways. The themes ranged from a
dungeon-style BDSM room to a 70’s theme, a cowboy theme, a doctor’s office, a
theme for every role play scenario one could imagine. There were strict
rules about appropriate behavior, open and closed doors, as well as protocols
for watching or joining the activities in the rooms. Hosts explained all the
rules to first time visitors during an extensive tour of the facility. The
club had security guards who strived to keep things clean and safe for all of
the participants.