One Swinging Summer (7 page)

"Oh, yeah. Shit, I didn't plan this real well, did I?" He said as he used his hand tucked under my chin to tip my face up to his. "Guess I need to take full advantage of you before I drop you off."

His slow Sunday afternoon kiss turned hot fast, whether he meant it to or not. Soon I found myself naked for the second time in one day. As I straddled him on his couch, it was my turn to set the pace. I started out going slow, my hips moving in circles, watching him watch me. I ran my own hands up my body, stopping at my breasts. I lifted them, squished them together, watching his reactions. I lifted one, and dipped my head down to lick my own nipple. I heard his quick intake of breath, which just encouraged me.

I sucked my own nipple, switched my attentions to my other one, and then squished them together, riding him. I let go of one breast, and watched it bounce with my rhythm. I slid that now free hand down between us, and rubbed myself as I rode him. His eyes didn't know where to land, on my one hand playing with my breast, or my other, working between my legs as I rode him faster and faster.

As the waves rolled over me, he sat up, grabbed me around my waist and stood up, with me still straddling him. He knelt down and placed me on the edge of the couch, leaning back against the cushions, and he pulled behind my knees, bringing my knees up to my chest. With my ass hanging off of the very edge of the couch, and him kneeling before me on the carpet, he pounded into me. It only took a few hard, driving thrusts and he called out with a guttural, primal grunt, and poured himself into me again.

"Damn it woman," he said a few recovered moments later, "I knew you would be trouble."

CHAPTER 9
CINCO DE MAYO

He had eventually taken me home, after feeding me at the Italian place he had mentioned before. Thankfully it was a casual restaurant considering I was dressed in Saturday night's clothes once again, with my hair pulled back in a finger-combed ponytail since I had no grooming provisions at his house. I had used his deodorant, so I kept getting these flashes of his smell as I moved around my place Sunday night.

I usually showered at night so I could get up and out easily in the mornings, but I put my shower off until Monday morning, just to smell him in my sleep. Yeah, I was a goner already. I really liked him. Such a strange mix between comfortable friend and hot new relationship. I kept trying to tell my serious, rational side that I would not be disappointed if he never called. I knew what I had done, and I knew that relationships don't normally start in such a quick fashion, but deep down I wasn't worried. I knew I had one hell of a memory at worst, and the possible beginning of a fun relationship at best.

"So relax," I told myself, as another work week began. "It is what it is."

He did call. And text. And over the next week we found ourselves spending a lot of time on the phone. If I missed a call, and saw a voice mail, I tended to listen to it over and over, just because I liked the deep way he said, "Hello."

We made plans for the weekend. He lived closer to the bar than I did, so we agreed that I would drive to his house on Friday after work. That way my car was available in case Friday night eventually turned into the Monday morning that he had suggested before. Or if everything went to hell, I told myself, at least I had an escape route and could go home at anytime.

Friday was Cinco de Mayo, and he asked if I would be up for meeting some of his friends at a restaurant early, and then we could all go dancing together after dinner. It sounded good to me.

I rang his bell around six. When he opened the door he gave me a wolf whistle. I was a bit embarrassed by the attention, but the feminine parts of me glowed with pride, and I was glad I took the extra time to put on nylons. Black nylons, black heels and a short, swingy black dress that hugged me tight in all the right places.

He led me inside and poured me a drink. We went upstairs, drinks in hand, so he could finish dressing. I sat on his bed as he finished, and he filled me in on the people I would be meeting at dinner.

One couple was married, and had been for years, Mark and Maria. Caleb said Maria made the world's best Mole. "Just don't ask what is in it, she is authentically Mexican. Like from Mexico Mexican, none of that Tex Mex stuff." Another couple, Jean and Robert, just started dating. Caleb said Jean had originally been a friend of Maria's and had been hanging out with them for a couple of years now, but that Robert was new to the group, brought in by Jean. Sometimes there were a few others, but tonight it would just be us three couples.

I watched Caleb as he shaved and talked, his eyes occasionally meeting mine in his mirror. He was handsome, but not in a traffic stopping way. He has a presence about him more than anything. A stance, the way he moves, the way he looked right at you, like he knew what you were thinking and was highly amused by the workings of your brain. But he wasn't mocking or making fun when he laughed at you, instead he was genuinely enjoying you as the unique person that you are. He made you want to laugh with him, to be a part of his world and see people the way he saw them.

His eyes had that twinkle to them, and his mouth was often held somewhere between a smirk and a shit-eating grin. If you caught his eye across the room, you met and then held his gaze, you had no other choice. But during the look, you felt like you were sharing an inside joke, and when you finally broke eye contact, you felt like you had gotten a glimpse of something special, and were better for it.

He had stopped speaking and was looking at me, like he was waiting for an answer. "Umm, I'm sorry, what was that?" I asked, embarrassed to be caught not paying attention.

"Where were you? Just now." He asked, facing me with his arms crossed over his chest, and that smile on his face.

I flamed red, yet again. I held his eyes and even though I could feel my face getting hotter and hotter, I said, "I was watching you."

He walked slowly toward me, arms still crossed, eyes still locked on mine. He came to a stop in front of me and held out his hand. I took his hand and he pulled me to my feet. He let my hand go and brought both of his hands up to cup my face. Still gazing into my eyes, he slid his hands toward the back of my head, his thumbs resting just in front of my ears and his fingers behind my head, buried in my hair. His mouth slowly lowered to mine, eyes breaking contact and closing only at the last second.

This kiss was different. It was slow and sensual. Questioningly probing instead of demanding. My stomach did its strange little dance, and my hands came up to sit at his waist. In my heels I was just barely shorter than him, and met his kiss at this almost equal height. He started walking me slowly, smoothly backward the few small steps until the back of my legs hit the side of his bed.

The contact with the bed made me sit suddenly, with an undignified thump. His kiss didn't stop though. He kept up the sweet plunder as he slowly pushed me back until I was laying under him on his bed. He had himself propped up on his elbows, one on each side of my head, and seemed to be in no hurry to stop kissing me. My arms went around him and my hands slid up his back.

I kicked my heels off so I wouldn't damage his bed, and I wrapped one leg around him, the one that wasn't pinned beneath him. In one quick movement he rolled over, bringing me with him, and I found myself on top, kissing him with more and more abandon. I shifted to the side, and again we started to roll. Only this time there wasn't any bed left to roll on. We felt the mistake and tried to correct it, but it was too late, we were going down.

We stayed connected as we half fell and half slid down onto the floor, landing with a thud. And a giggle. If you have never kissed passionately while also giggling at your own stupidity, I would highly recommend it.

We landed with him half on top of me and half sprawled across the carpet. He broke from the kiss just long enough to look down at me, smile, say "Oops," and start kissing me again. I felt one of his arms slide under me, between me and the carpet, and tighten firmly about my waist. His other arm tried to push us up from the carpet. I felt his intent and helped him by wrapping my legs firmly around his waist and starting to sit up. That gave him the leverage he needed to hold me tight to him, and push us up together. He was on his knees with me tightly wrapped around him. Legs around his waist, arms around his neck, I felt him stand up, one hand on the bed for more leverage.

I giggled against his mouth as he deposited us once again on the bed. "I'm impressed," I stated, still laughing and kissing. "You should be," was his response.

A few minutes passed, full of kissing and groping, but no more rolling. He pulled his mouth away from mine and said, "We are supposed to be getting dressed for dinner."

"You started it."

"I plan on finishing it, as well. Later. Come on, I'm starving. Man can not live on kisses alone, even yours."

We untangled ourselves and started repairing the damage. I had come prepared this time, so I was able to straighten my hair and fix my make-up. Once I slipped back into my heels, the only clues that we had been rolling around were my kiss swollen lips and the pink flush I had to my face. He of course, looked unaffected. Men.

As he drove us to dinner he seemed slightly uncomfortable. He kept messing with the radio, and seemed distracted. He finally brought up what was on his mind.

"Umm, about tonight. I mean, well, it isn't a big deal or anything, I just don't want to hide anything from you. It's about Jean. We used to date. Not long, and it wasn't serious, but since we are all having dinner together, I thought you should know."

"So," I asked, mulling over this new development. "You are going out to dinner, and then dancing, with your ex-girlfriend, her new boyfriend, and me. You are a glutton for punishment, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't call her my ex-girlfriend, we never made it that far. Just a few dates, and it was months ago, maybe close to a year ago now. She has been to the house, once alone and a few times when I've had everyone over. We've been to dinner, to a movie, and we did kiss, but that is all."

"OK, that doesn't sound so bad. Thank you for the heads up, though. I hate being part of underwater currents that I don't understand. Weird looks and stuff, everyone knowing things that you don't. So thank you. Really."

"It only seemed fair."

"How come it didn't progress to more?" I asked.

"It's like you said, about the guy you were talking to when I brought you that drink. No real chemistry. Maria introduced us, she has been a friend of theirs for a while. I was single, Jean was single, Maria has a tendency to want to pair people up. I think it is because she is married. Married people seem to want other people to get together. I was willing, so we tried a few dates, but nothing was there. The weird part though, is that neither one of us has seen anyone since. So this new guy Robert, and then, of course, you, well... "

"Wait, so I'm the first person you have dated since Jean, and Jean is coming to dinner. With her new man. Her first new man since dating you? Yeah, this won't be the least bit awkward."

"Well, I have met Robert once before, last Friday night. Jean brought him to the club. That was the group I was sitting with by the front door. Mark and Maria, Jean and Robert, and two girls that sometimes hang out with us there, but we don't see them outside of the club. I think they just sit with us to have a safe group to hang out with. If they sat alone together, more people would bother them."

"Oh, yeah." I remembered them all, the two with rings on were obviously Mark and Maria, and the two awkward first date looking ones must have been Robert and Jean. That explained the two single girls as well. "Yeah, I did see them. Kind of. I was watching you, but I did notice you were with other people."

"Yeah, that's them. Robert seemed nice, but kind of quiet. Hard to tell though, when you throw someone into a group he doesn't know in a loud bar. Umm, they remember you, as well."

"What? How so?"

"Taking you that drink the way I did. And then going back to them at the table and toasting you from afar. That got their attention. I got teased the rest of the night. They are very curious about the first person to catch my attention in a long time. So, that brings you up to dinner tonight."

"No pressure." I said glibly.

He laughed. "Really there isn't. They are just friends, not my parents." He said as we were pulling up at the restaurant and parking.

We were the last ones there, everyone else was already seated. They stood up when we got close to the table, and Caleb made the introductions. We sat down and gave our drink order to the waitress. Nothing helps ease the weirdness of something like this quite the way a glass of liquid courage does. Just one glass though, at least until we go dancing. Nothing is worse than the new girl with too much to drink.

Everyone was really friendly, if a bit curious. Mark and Maria went out of their way to make me feel comfortable. Asking me questions, telling stories to embarrass Caleb. I could tell they had his well being in mind and really were just curious about who he was seeing. Caleb was right, Robert was quiet. He watched more than he joined, but so did I. I'm sure he felt just as odd as I did. Jean was friendly as well, but seemed the most curious. Not in her questions, but in the way she was constantly sneaking peeks over at us. We were at a large round table, so everyone faced each other, but she seemed to be watching us more than trying to make Robert feel at home.

Mark and Maria tried to fill in that gap, directing the conversation toward him. He would answer the question, quietly, but that was all, he didn't go into details or try to hold up his part of the conversation.

Dinner was really good, it was a seafood place, and the shrimp were huge. We got a large order of crab legs to share with the table. Trying to get crab legs out of their shells with a group of people helps break the ice. Something about eating with your fingers, incoming projectile crab shells, licking your fingers of the butter dripping off of everything, and the occasional 'sorry' when you elbow your neighbor trying to wrench open a shell has a tendency to make quick friends out of strangers. The alcohol didn't hurt either. By the time we were wrapping up I was having a great time.