Connecting

Connecting
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The dark-haired man sat at a table across the way from Jennifer’s. He was on his cell phone, coffee cup in hand, like most of the other customers in the cafe. He appeared serious—his face a mask of concentration—although he was toying with his mug, stroking his thumb along the rim in a way that was decidedly sensual. Jennifer stared at him surreptitiously. She wondered what type of underwear he had on—boxers or briefs—whether or not his cock was hard. Her laptop was open and a colorful pie chart filled the screen. She was supposed to be paying attention to the graphics and how they moved when she substituted different numbers for the various segments—always thinking in her mind that slicing the pie into more pieces didn’t make more pie, just smaller pieces. That’s how she felt about her busy days.

But thinking of pie made her want to put something sweet in her mouth. And thinking of something sweet, made her think about sucking cock. She looked back at the man. He was dialing again.

She could imagine riding him reverse cowgirl. Or maybe doggy-style. She could picture what it would feel like to have him holding tightly onto her long red hair, slamming into her from behind….

Her phone rang.

The waitress refilled her cup as Jennifer answered her phone, then mouthed whether she could get Jennifer anything else. “Pie,” Jennifer whispered back, indicating the cherry pie under the counter, and then she spoke into the phone.

The waitress headed to the counter and pulled out the partially cut pie. She looked around the restaurant. So many of the customers were on their cell phones. Didn’t people ever have actual face-to-face conversations anymore? She personally didn’t even own a cell phone. The telephone at her one-room apartment was an old-fashioned rotary. It hadn’t been that long ago when customers came in to the café without any devices that rang, buzzed, or vibrated. She was often surprised by the odd choices her customers had decided on for their cell phone ring. Why would someone choose a duck’s quack? She cut the pie and brought a piece to the pretty redhead with the sleek-looking computer. She wanted to tell the girl to get off the phone, to try to connect with a real, live human.

Cherry. Jennifer wanted to start eating it right then. Pie wasn’t what she usually bought. She was a black coffee/dry toast type of girl. But she wasn’t in a normal type of mood today. Yes, she had her computer out, and she was scheduled to be in a conference call in less than thirty minutes. But her brain wasn’t engaging properly this morning. She glanced at the businessman across the restaurant again. He wasn’t looking her way. She watched as the waitress strode over to him in her sensible white orthopedic shoes.

“Do you need anything else, Sir?” the waitress asked him.

Charles shook his head. He had his cell phone in his hand, and he was intent on his conversation. As the waitress squeaked away on her rubber-soled shoes, he turned slightly in the chair, so he was facing the faux-wood-paneled wall rather than the room. This was the closest to privacy he was going to get in the busy café. He could feel Jennifer watching him. He didn’t have to see her to know she was staring.

“What panties are you wearing?” he asked.

“The blue ones.”

He sighed. “With the black lace on the edges?”

“Yes. The ones we bought in Paris.”

He fidgeted with his fork. He didn’t usually fidget. But then, he didn’t usually make sex calls like this in the middle of a busy restaurant.

“Are you still wet?”

“Very.”

“Slut.”

She giggled. She couldn’t help herself. She was the least slut-like person she knew. If a stranger were to walk into the restaurant and pick out the “slut” in the room, Jennifer wouldn’t even be considered. But then she didn’t giggle that often either.

“Why are you wet?” Charles asked.

Jennifer swallowed over her hesitation. She’d never been adept at talking dirty before. But if he could play this game, she could, too. Her competitive streak kicked in. “Because I keep thinking about your cock, and how good it felt in my mouth this morning.”

Charles turned now to look at Jennifer. She was staring right at him. He stared back. She felt a shiver run through her that was as intense as when they’d first met at a dinner party, six years earlier.

“You suck cock well,” he said, and Jennifer smiled at him.

“You wanna feel my mouth again?” she teased. “It’s warm from the coffee.”

“You’re such a filthy girl, aren’t you? And nobody would ever guess.”

Jennifer turned to her computer. She entered a few quick keystrokes with one hand. In seconds, Charles had mail. He maneuvered so he was able to open up the message while still talking on the phone. He couldn’t believe what he was looking at.

“I went to the ladies room before,” Jennifer said, “and took a picture for you.”

It was her pussy, shaved and bare. He wanted to lick it on his screen, taste her cream. She’d never done anything like this before.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Maybe it was the way you woke me up this morning.”

He’d had a wet dream—well, practically a wet dream. He’d had a wet dream without the climax—an erotic sleeping fantasy. And he’d woken up with a hard-on so intense, he’d simply started to fuck her without saying anything, getting her wet with his mouth and then slipping inside of her. Since 5 a.m. they’d both been in a state of heat. He was grateful for it. After half a dozen years together, their relationship had spikes and valleys, like everyone’s. But right now, they were definitely in a spike. Oh, fucking hell they were. He thought of how warm her pussy had felt around his cock when he’d plunged, and how right before he’d come, she’d whipped around to suck him off, finishing the job with her mouth, draining him dry. That move had surprised him and his orgasm had intensified, seeming to go on for minutes rather than seconds. He’d never expected Jennifer to act like that, like she was so hungry for his cock she couldn’t control herself.

“What I really want,” Jennifer said softly, “is for you to fuck the daylights out of me in the bathroom.”

Immediately, he started to gather up his things, moving the papers to the laptop case, motioning to the waitress that he was ready for the check with that universal hand signal everyone knows—writing something in the air—something that looked like he was signing his name, when really he was writing fuck in invisible letters. He saw Jennifer packing her things up as well.

He met her at the lavatory down the hall, blocked her body with his so that nobody would see them entering together.

“Oh, God,” she whispered as he locked the door behind them. “I couldn’t take any more of that.”

“Don’t stop talking,” he said, and she looked at him surprised. He pushed her pencil skirt to her hips and started to touch her pussy through her stockings and panties. “Tell me what you like.”

“You know…”

“Just say it.”

For some reason, talking had been easier for her with the cell in her hand. There’d been a safety in whispering her desires over the phone. But Charles was looking at her expectantly, and she didn’t want to let him down. “I like when you touch me like that. With two fingers. When you rub up and down between my pussy lips.”

He was kissing her neck as he fingered her. She seemed to be having a difficult time staying upright. He loved how mussed she looked already, even in her neat navy blue suit.

“When my juices start making my stockings wet, I love when you slip your hand beneath the waistband and rub my clit directly.”

“Like this?” He did precisely what she’d described.

“Just like that.”

“Or this?” he asked, and now he pinched her clit between his thumb and forefinger, sending a shockwave of pleasure throughout her whole body. Jennifer sighed and pushed her hips forward. What was he doing to her? She felt completely disoriented, robbed of her mental facilities. Only moments before, she’d been an upstanding citizen in a suit, eating a piece of pie in a busy restaurant. Now, she was having her pussy rubbed in the ladies room. And all she wanted was more.

“Fuck me,” she begged. “Please, Chas, just fuck me.”

He couldn’t have waited much longer. He spun her around, and she put her palms flat on the tiled wall. Then he pulled her stockings to her knees and slid her panties aside. Jennifer’s breath was coming in short, staccato bursts. She turned her head, realizing she could watch the action in the mirror over the sink. That added an extra thrill to her world, staring as Charles undid his slacks and took his cock in hand.

“You’re so wet,” he said, placing only the head of his cock to her opening. “Your juices have coated your thighs, your stockings.”

“My pussy.” Jennifer finished the sentence for him. As he thrust in for the first time, she moved one hand from the wall and touched herself. There was no way she couldn’t. The whole situation was so erotic, she felt as if she were starring in a porno flick.

“What did you dream last night?” she asked. She’d wanted to know all morning, but after their early a.m. romp, they’d both been in a haze of erotic bliss. Showers, dressing, driving here—the entire routine had all felt like a blur.

“It was dirty,” Charles said, rotating his hips so that his cock seemed to hit places he’d never reached before. Jennifer groaned under her breath. She was having a difficult time not making noise—but she didn’t want to be too loud, didn’t want to be caught and forced to stop what they were doing. At least, not before she got off.

“Tell me?”

“I don’t think you’d want to do it.”

He was taunting her. She looked at their reflection again. The look on his face was new to her. They’d always been equals in bed. He looked totally dom now. She’d never seen him sexier.

“Tell me,” she begged.

“I was fucking your pussy,” he said, “just like this.” He continued to work her as he talked. Jennifer’s pussy was wetter than she could ever remember. Her juices had made the tops of her thighs damp. Charles’ cock slid in and out with ease.

“Then…” she prompted.

“And then you said that you wanted something we’d never done before.”

“What did I want?” she was begging.

“I don’t think I should tell you.”

She started to pull off him, her anger rising, and he grabbed her around the waist and thrust into her fiercely. He was showing her exactly who was in charge of this scenario, and her legs felt weak at the power in him.

“Please?” she asked, trying a different tactic. “Please tell me.” She stared ahead at the painting on the wall. A little sailboat in a sea of blue. It was an ugly, dime-store painting, but she focused on the tiny whitecap waves in the picture, and tried to regain her sense of calm. What did you call that type of blue? Cerulean?

“You told me that you wanted me to fuck your tight little virgin asshole.”

“I said that?” she was panting, shutting out the picture by closing her eyes. Seeing a completely different image behind closed lids.

“Yes,” he said, “you filthy little slut. You said, ‘Please, Chas. I’ll hold myself open for you. Put the head in and fuck my ass.’”

They’d never done that before. She’d never spoken like she had in his dream. He’d never indicated that he even wanted to try anal.

“Did I like it?”

“I didn’t fuck your ass right away. I made you wait for the big event.”

“Why?”

“So you’d be really desperate.”

“What did you do first?”

“I took you in the bathroom and bent you over the edge of the tub. I spread shaving cream between your asscheeks and shaved you so you were completely clean back there. Then I showered you off and licked your back door until you were moaning the way you do when I eat your pussy.”

“God,” Jennifer sighed. “Oh, fuck.”

“You couldn’t get enough. You actually were parting your own cheeks for me so I could get in deeper.” Jennifer couldn’t believe he was talking to her like this. This went beyond anything they’d discussed or tried in bed. The kinkiest time they’d experienced so far had been a slightly tipsy evening in which Charles had blindfolded her with a scarf and eaten her out. But this…this was different.

“What happened next?”

“I got you on your back with your knees to your chest and I licked your asshole until you told me you were going to come. You were so wild, thrashing around on the mattress, unable to keep still. I actually thought I might have to tie you down to make you behave.”

He was traveling in uncharted territory with every statement. They’d never considered bondage, never broached the topic. Jennifer felt as if she might melt into a puddle of lust. She was teetering on the brink of climax, so close, almost there.

“What’d you do?” The words were a whisper.

“I told you I was going to fuck your asshole.”

“Uh huh.”

“And that by the time I was done, I’d be fucking it as hard and fast as I do your pussy.”

“Oh, God,” she sighed. “What did I do?”

“You let me.”

Her hand between her legs was working faster now, rubbing her clit as quickly as she could. Charles’ words were beyond foreplay. He was fucking her with his story.

“I rolled you over on the mattress so you were ass-up. I had lube, and I oiled you so that you were nice and slick and wet. Then I gave you just the first inch of my cock, spreading open your hole so you could really feel the stretch.”

“Did I like it?”

“Oh, baby. You loved it. You told me to go slow at first, but pretty soon, you were backing down on my cock. You were fucking me.”

She shivered. The scenario thrilled her. Who knew that she’d want something like that? Suddenly, she felt his hand between her cheeks. He was touching her hole, just touching it. She felt her pussy tighten.

“I’m going to let you come now,” he said. “Just like this. And then we’re both going to call in sick and go back home. And I’m going to get out the lube and do to you exactly what I just described.”

Jennifer came on his cock and on his words. She shivered as the pleasure worked through her, and she could feel Charles climaxing a second later. He pounded into her at a rapid pace, holding onto her hips as he filled her. She’d never felt as close to him as she did right then. They took a moment to separate, then each used the sink and mirror in an attempt to look presentable. Jennifer could not wait to get home. She was dying to do exactly what Charles had promised her.

She exited the restroom first, heading out the door of the café to their car. Charles followed a moment later.

As the couple left, the waitress watched after them. Wouldn’t it be nice if more people set down their devices and spoke face to face? Like those two professional people. They would make such a pretty couple if they ever put their computers and cell phones down long enough to connect.