Between the Sheets

Do you remember us sharing tiramisu on that park bench? The bench had a great view of a clifftop park just down from us and the beach below. If someone was looking our direction, they saw me in that brown silk skirt with my leg draped over your knee. If the coastal breeze was any indication, the art lovers in the park had an occasional perfect view of my shaved pussy.

Do you remember finishing our picnic quickly? We couldn’t keep our hands off of each other. Your face was freshly shaved, smooth and warm in the sun. And, your lips and tongue. Your lips were thinner than I was used to. I wondered how they would fit against my full lips. When they touched mine, I had chills even in the heat. The strength of your lips dominated mine, teased mine with their vitality. I imagined sex with you rough and fierce. Your plump, soft tongue was a surprise. There was a shocking and arousing delicacy when our tongues touched. I wanted to know what that supple, patient tongue felt like lapping over my clit.

Do you remember the drive? We hadn’t planned to sleep together. We hadn’t reserved a room. Ok, I hadn’t reserved one. I had hoped you would. After all, a weekend in the middle of the Laguna Beach’s Festival of Arts required a little preplanning–like, for instance, a hotel room. Without that planning, we started driving (each in our separate cars) looking for something. You were on the phone, calling various motels for vacancies. We kept driving up Highway One. We were stuck in traffic. You were still on the phone ahead of me. I started thinking: Was this not as great as I thought? Who was he on the phone with? Was he looking for an out and I wasn’t getting it? Then, my phone rang. It was you. You were still trying to find something for us. “Don’t despair, sexy,” you said. “I’ll be inside you soon…”

Do you remember what I did to stave off boredom when we were in traffic? I called you. I told you to keep an eye on your rearview mirror. At first, you saw nothing. And, then you saw me moving about in the driver’s seat. You looked again and saw that I no longer had my shirt on. The light turned green. You looked again and saw my peach lace bra dangling from my mirror. I think you drove faster, making the drive to Newport Beach not long at all…

Do you remember the room we found? Quality, sleep, comfort-something or other. Who cares. But, it had a spindrift, rustic feel to it. We walked upstairs. I remember the strangely exposed beams in the raised ceilings and the fact that the bathroom countertop was open to the bedroom. The mirrors above the sink ran the length of the room. I cringed for a moment. Mirrors had this strange way of reducing the sexy topless beast in me to a little girl. I hated that feeling and am happy to have outgrown it.

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Part II.

sex, affair, intimacy, exhibitionism, beach