We were in the thick of winter by the time I saw James again.

I was with Amy at her after-Christmas staff party. The whole Conquistador Pub family was there, so I don't know why I didn't expect to see him.

A part of me does enjoy this - knowing that as long as we’re both swimming in the same pond, I can rely on him to resurface eventually. Because he always does. Of course, then there’s the other part of me that hopes never to see him again so that I might relearn to breathe.

James walked in with the usual suspects – Dan, Jeremy, Tech Guy, and a few other faces I recognized but had yet to formally meet. He intently scanned the room for signs of acknowledgment as he unwrapped the thin scarf he had draped around his neck.

That was the first time our eyes locked. As brief as it was, the depth of that moment set a precedent for the rest of the night. His gaze was strong and unwavering, and the sight of me had undoubtedly captivated him – I pretended not to notice as he casually bee-lined across the room right towards me.

“You look amazing,” he said, looking me up and down. He noted the thigh-high stockings I was sporting. “Nicely done.”

“Well,” I said nonchalantly. “It’s still far too cold to go outside with bare legs.” Any uncertainty I felt the last time I saw him had apparently melted away completely.

“Of course,” he said flatly, resuming his pointed review of the room.

Without another word, he left me to continue his tour of the place, greeting the party host along with many other guests before finally rejoining his buddies. I tongued at the straw in my glass as I watched him make his rounds.

While I was refilling my cup at the refreshment table, James emerged from somewhere in the crowd to stand next to me.

“They can’t keep their eyes off you,” he said over his glass.

“Yeah.” I took a sip from my own. “I’ve heard some of the comments they’ve made about what they would do to me, given the chance.”

James shook his head, implying his disapproval. “It’s no excuse, but I can’t blame them.” His words faded into his whiskey, and he finally looked right at me. “Are you smoking these days?” He was already putting on his coat in anticipation of stepping outside.

“I am, actually,” I lied.

Once I was cloaked in my heavy jacket, we walked out together into the cold winter night. The wind lashed at my face, and I felt my shoulders instinctively creep up closer to my ears as we headed down the block. Not unlike the night we hooked up behind the pub, we strolled around the corner down the quieter side street where he had parked his vehicle. Although I was much more settled in my intent to follow him that time.

Once inside, James put his keys in the ignition to run the heat and warm up so that we might be more comfortable. He pulled out a little baggy of white powder, shoveled a small amount onto the end of his key and held it up towards me as an offering. I didn't realize we were doing more than smoking, and I didn't tend to indulge, but I was feeling particularly reckless. I leaned in, pressing one nostril closed and sharply ingested the dust through the other, wondering what the point of all of this was.

At the end of the day, it doesn’t really matter, I thought as the metallic numbness permeated my throat. I was prepared to take any possible reason to linger with him just a little bit longer.

I felt the upsurge of my heartbeat while I waited in silence for him to repeat the process for himself. Honestly, I think simply sitting next to James had my pulse racing more the cocaine ever could.

Satisfied, he lit a cigarette and reclined back into the driver’s seat while I curled my feet under and leaned sideways into the headrest. The stale second-hand smoke stung my eyes, but I couldn’t blink; I found myself stubbornly mesmerized by the grey flume billowing around his face.

He turned to look at me and his eyes suggested the possibility of a smile, but, of course, he wouldn’t give it up that easily. I scoffed at him and buried my face in the bright red scarf that matched the flawless paint on my lips.

James breathed new life into his spine - sitting up to face me, he rested one hand on my bent knee. I raised my hand and rested it on his chest, feeling his heart beat into the flat of my palm. I was suddenly overcome by nerves at first - my lungs were heavy, an awkward tightness grew in my chest, and my defenses all but melted away as the temperature inside the vehicle began to rise.

But as I hung there in that space with him and felt the heave of his breath permeate the spaces between my fingers, my nerves softened. Newly open and vulnerable, I felt inexplicably brave to be in that moment with him.

Some time had passed since our first stolen kiss in my kitchen. I could barely look at him then. His stare was intimidating – once he got me in his sights, I felt utterly exposed. At first, I didn’t know what to make of it. But as time went on, as our relationship was left to simmer and reduce, holding his gaze became part of the fun. A challenge of sorts.

Despite that, there would still come a point where I would finally lose my footing and could no longer stand my ground. My eyes dropped downwards, and my fingers clenched longingly at the fabric of his shirt.

“I really do want to kiss you right now,” I said, refastening our gaze.

“You should,” he said, without blinking.

The lump in my throat twitched, but I reached over from the passenger seat and caressed his jaw with my hand anyways. Determined again to hold his stare, I stroked his cheek with my thumb. But my eyes closed on their own as my lips moved unhurriedly towards his, which were as soft as my approach.

At that moment, it may have seemed like I was hesitating, uncertain in my advance. But in fact, it was quite the opposite. Since we couldn’t stay here forever – returning to the party was rather inevitable – the lightness in my tread was completely deliberate. I wanted, no, needed to savor every millimoment.

I felt the heave of his exhale when he kissed me back with a little more intensity. Cupping his face in both of my hands, I felt my pulse drop aggressively into my pelvis and I fell further in towards him. My hands snaked back behind his head and grasped his hair to pull his face closer to mine. Our lips only parted briefly to make room for our tongues to slip back and forth.

James grasped a handful of my hair and craned my neck back while simultaneously pulling my face in closer. And then he pulled away, greedily drinking in the stale cigarette air like he had forgotten to breathe that whole time. His eyes followed the trail of his fingers as he thumbed the bare skin of my outer thigh.

“The first time I kissed you, you were wearing stockings just like these.”

I followed his gaze and smiled. “I remember.”

James looked up once again to meet my eyes and mirrored my smile back to me.

In unison, our lips were drawn back together. Without breaking our chain of kisses, I climbed over to the driver’s seat to straddle him. Hands on his face, tongue in, I pulled the warmth of his mouth down into my loins, engorging my labia with expectation. My attention followed the cascading heat, and I encouraged the building contraction of my internal walls to release, emulating the orgasm I had yet to enjoy with him.

Our restricted position prevented me from feeling his likely erection press against me. But I was actually too preoccupied with devouring him through my kiss to worry about that yet.

His hands moved down the length of my torso over my dress, past my waist, onto my thighs. He slipped one still-cool hand under my dress, cupping my ass and giving it a gentle squeeze. My hips gyrated and thrust towards his, and the top of my head rubbed against the ceiling of the SUV.

“At this rate, I am definitely not going to be presentable when we go back in there,” I said, feeling around for stray hairs that may have been charged with static electricity.

“Here.” James invited me to lie across the passenger’s side of the vehicle. “This might be better for you then.”

I reclined slowly to rest my head against the armrest on the door. My knees fell apart to reveal my pink panties to him. He leaned over me between my legs and ran the back of his hand up my inner thigh. Still lost in the darkness of my eyes, he rested his head on my knee and squeezed the fleshiness of my thigh.

I sat up to meet his face and kissed him again. I could taste the smoky cocktail of scotch and nicotine on his tongue. Lips locked, I pulled him down with me and wrapped my arms around his neck. The position was awkward but stubbornly tolerated all the same, both of us unwilling to pull apart. We were like a couple of desperate teenagers fighting through the objective discomfort to exhaust every last second before curfew.

Finally, James leaned back in his seat again. I stayed where I was, dress hiked up past my bellybutton, legs spread akimbo. My scarf had inadvertently fallen between my legs to drape my crotch, cheekily hiding the goods. He moved it aside, pulling back the curtain to reveal the main stage.

Then he stopped, planting that poignant gaze of his on me. A streetlamp painted a streak across my torso to expose his mental photograph.

“You really are absolutely stunning tonight, Jay,” he said, awestruck.

“Thank you,” I said with genuine gratitude, my knees swaying with an imaginary breeze. I’ve always loved how he spoke to me in those moments.

With the back of his fingers, James gently caressed my inner thigh from knee to groin. The tingling trail he left in his wake triggered a shiver from the backs of my knees. He flipped his hand over to fuse the warmth from his palm with the heat radiating from my vulva. My clit was begging for attention and my inside walls squeezed again. James grinned. I like to imagine that it was because he too realized all that potential he held in the palm of his hand.

He ran one finger along the hem of my underwear. When he turned around to go back the way he came, he gently slid his fingertip to the underside of the hemline and rubbed the back of his finger against the skin. I leaned my head back and shut my eyes, letting out a long sigh of relief.

"I have waited so long for you to touch me like this," I whispered.

Though mine were closed, I imagined that he never took his intense eyes off me. He moved my panties to one side. He let his fingers spider-sprawl up and down again over my vulva. I heard his lips smack gently as he licked his thumb. He brought his hand back down to me, gently pressing the pad of his thumb against my swollen clit. Remaining there for a moment, he faintly increased the pressure, and finally began to rub gentle circles around it.

I felt myself squirm in the seat, simultaneously moving closer to him and trying to pull away. My lower back arched and my pelvis pressed into the cushion beneath me. But as quickly as I had been overcome with nervous tension, my body relaxed into this new space, back into the seat.

The circles turned to an up-and-down motion as I grew harder under the delicate burden of his touch. With two fingers on his other hand, James teased at my opening. When he finally entered me, I inhaled sharply in approval. His fingers were just barely inside me, but it was all I needed. He massaged me gently from within while his thumb continued its persistent strokes over my clit. I licked my fingers and met his hand with my own saliva to lubricate without breaking rhythm.

I felt myself contract and squeeze around his fingers. He moved them in a little further, intensifying his come-hither curl deeper inside me.

A chill rose behind my ears and at the nape of my neck, heating up as it trickled down my spine towards my tailbone. One knee pressed into the back of the seat as the other reached for the dash. Tension swelled in the fronts of my thighs as my heels tried to dig into the seat cushion beneath him. My hips rose, begging him to continue.

My breaths were hungry, yet distended, and my focus shifted inward, concentrating on the movement of his fingers, inside and out. Forgetting everything else. Really feeling it at the point of contact. My eyes were still closed when I drank in a long inhalation, and released it with equal intention, feeling the intensity of my pleasure growing with every subsequent breath.

“We…” Exhilaration forced the words back down my throat. Try again. “We should go back…”

Strong thumb still resting on my clit, his other hand rose to hush me with my own wetness. “Not yet.”

His burgeoning arousal was becoming more apparent in that confined space. I could hear his breath grow huskier as he resumed his rhythmic stimulation of my clit. I could smell my rising excitement dripping all over the cadence of his fingers.

My mouth fell open to usher forth a silent scream. I clenched his fingers and my pulse throbbed into the pad of his thumb. My head pressed back into the armrest; I worried momentarily that I was going to push right through the door, but my hard drive mind was wiped clean before I could finish that thought.

James slowly slid his fingers out as my body went limp. He leaned back to watch me bask in the fallout of my bodyquake. My head fell limply to one side while my body struggled to recalibrate – slowed breathing, relaxed pulse, fallen temperature, faded bliss.

“Just stunning…” he repeated.

I was caught somewhere between pleasure-induced paralysis and a voracious desire to make hungry love to this man. I reached up, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down towards me, forcing him to meet me at my level.

“Thank you,” I whispered softly into his ear. I kissed his neck, feeling the echoes of his hammering heart press into my lips.

“I just had an experience that every other guy in there tonight was wanting,” James whispered back. “Thank you.” He kissed me again, and leaned his forehead against mine.

“We probably should head back now though,” I said, suddenly frighteningly aware of how much time had passed.

It was the complete opposite of what I wanted. What I wanted was to remain suspended in this real-life fantasy indefinitely.

“You’re right,” James said pushing off of me. “They couldn't give a fuck about me, but they’ve definitely noticed your absence.”

I readjusted my clothes, put my coat back on and followed him out of the SUV, back into the biting winter chill.

“Do I look alright?” I asked as we walked around the corner.

“What kind of question is that?” he scoffed as he lit a single cigarette. James took a long drag, and passed it to me. I gulped in the smoke as deeply as I had my orgasm only moments before.

“I just mean, like… Do I look presentable enough to be going back in there?”

I stopped to look at my reflection in a dusty storefront window and fussed with my hair. Our eyes met in the grimy glass as James approached me from behind and put his hand on my waist.

“Obviously.”

I turned around and pulled him by the scarf. I kissed him once more - hidden by the darkness of the shop’s stoop, swallowed by the shadows of our cloak-and-dagger desire.

Every time our lips part, I feel the bittersweet tang of farewell linger on my tongue.

Despite the undeniably mutual hunger, there was never any guarantee that I would have another opportunity to taste this man again, making those cursory exchanges all the more deliciously savory and devastatingly bitter.

TO BE CONTINUED

More by Queen Jayne:



The Birthday Bash

Chicago Rare

Comings and Goings

Compliance Risk

Condemned Desire

Conservation Area

Devotee

Diamonds and Pearls

The Edge of Glory

Expressions of Grief

For Dommestic Use Only

Hey, Babe.

Just Dessert

Lucky Shot

Marked

Summer Heat

Strangers on a Train

Up Top

