That’s a Bit Forward, Don’t You Think
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“That’s a bit forward, don’t you think?”
Fair warning, this one is a slow build to intensity. Settle in.
“Whose idea was this?” I think as I stare down at the sad tray of crappy California roll I can barely afford at the uni cafeteria. “School in an expensive city. We as kids should have been warned, not encouraged.” It’s a bit alarming, as well, that this is one of the cheapest foods on offer here. Poor decisions all around. Being on a working student’s budget means only every few long haul days can I spring for this awful attempt at Japanese food so I don’t get a migraine from never ending classes. ‘We’ve Been Had’ starts playing in my head. Hurriedly inhaling the little pucks of a hard rice and avocado in the few minutes before Advanced Life Drawing, I sit and wonder how much these models get paid. Maybe this can be a third job to be able to afford the supplies for this class.
“Fuck. Art supplies,” I remember. I need to go pick up canvases and paper for my midterms. Shouldn’t have bought lunch. I would start banging my head against my drawing board but I’m certain the dude next to me already thinks I’m strange, so there’s no need to push it.
Leaving campus I pull an emergency joint out of my glove box. A gift from a roommate who thinks I’m too anxious and need to chill out more. Thanks for the hot take, Trust Fund Megan. Might as well make it an adventure through the paints section instead of the dreary, lust-filled affair it usually is. You’ll never know how hilarious the color magenta is unless you’ve been supremely stoned in front of the oil paints at Carter’s Art Supply. It’s a local shop in the industrial section of town and more expensive than the big box stores, but my soul curdles every time I walk into Michael’s and can feel the ‘You’re an artist? So is my seven year old granddaughter! Let me tell you all about her genius -” vibe wafting off every lady in the craft section. Also, this local spot has all the really weird supplies that, surprise, you can only get here and my professors often require. Papers crafted from, like, the petrified wood of Mesozoic trees, hand made exclusively by Italian women with grey eyes, and all kinds of ridiculous shit like that. Though, it’s nice to run your hand over the vellum papers after said joint, and the people who run the place don’t look at you like you’re odd because they get it. They work in an art supplies store. They’ve either seen it all or they themselves are the show.
Walking in I’m stopped dead in my tracks.
“I cannot believe you’re playing this!”
The guy at the counter stares at me with a look that says: ‘You are so stoned.’ And he’s not wrong. “The other guy who works here put it on,” he shrugs.
He can’t see how fantastic this is and I think to explain it to him but obviously he’s not into At the Drive In in the least and just hears noise. Poor philistine, what is he doing here. I’m suspicious. Or just paranoid. No, suspicious. “Don’t let him see you pet the vellum paper,” I think. After the day I’ve had the simplicity of a favorite band I haven’t heard played for years outside of my own Spotify station turns it all around. Never doubt the relaxing power of a heavy riff.
I stroll around the uneven and creaking floors just listening before realizing I have a purpose. Canvas. As a rule I hate basements, they creep me the fuck out, but the one here is only half underground and has enough windows, plus it’s filled with all the canvases and papers so it’s slightly more calming with familiars around. I nearly spill down the steps – this building is a pending lawsuit, I swear, and who puts carpet on crooked steps, it’s nearly a slip and slide – when I can hear someone else bumping about below. Bummer. It’s a confusingly laid out small space, and needing to awkwardly shuffle around other people lugging out a six foot canvas is too much interaction for me right now. But wait – “shit he’s cute,” I think, and now to try and act totally not stoned off my ass and weird. I turn to pretend to look at some canvases when he glances my way and, as it happens, I end up turning towards a blank wall, my hand reaching for nothing, and I can hear him laugh.
“Sorry, I’m stoned,” I blurt out. For someone who hates being called out when in rare form, I just became the asshole that I loathe. We all knew this day would come.
“Please tell me you can share the vibe.”
I pull the leftover half of the joint from my pocket with a proud grin.
“Oh, you fucking angel. Chris is driving me over an edge.”
“The goddamned killjoy at the front counter – manager. Can’t miss him when you walk in. He steals your soul if you don’t move past him quick enough.”
I pat around for my lighter and come up empty handed.
“Sorry friend, we may have hit a dead end,” I sadly relate.
My new mystery crush pulls matches from his pocket.
“How very old school.”
“I’m a boy scout, always come prepared.”
“I’ve never smoked with a boy scout before. Do they award badges for rolling the best j?”
“In a perfect world. And I meant to say former boy scout. They kicked bahis siteleri me out.”
“Getting caught in a situation similar to this.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“Hey thanks, that means a lot.” He delivers in mock earnesty. I do enjoy a sporting soul who can play along.
We each let out subdued laughs at our mischief as we trade hits and try to ghost each one or (poorly) attempt to blow smoke rings.
“I feeeeelll like we’re dumb for having fire around all this tinder.”
“Now you’re starting to sound like Chris.”
“Fuck me, I need to cut that out right quick. Let’s burn this mother down!”
“That’s all I’m saying.”
“Well, maybe not this place, I dig it here. I mean, it’s the reason I can barely afford to eat, but… anyway, what’d Chris do that has you hiding down here?”
“If I have to listen to James Blunt one more time I’ll – “
“NO! That’s not even real.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Unless this is an acid flashback to my middle school days you’ve somehow gotten sucked into, believe it. There is yet one mythical douche who sincerely listens to him.”
“That sort of makes him a unicorn, but not the fun kind. And it explains his reaction when I walked in and freaked out about At the Drive In. “
“Now I don’t believe you! You’re into them? You know who they are?”
“Is it snobbish in thinking that no one else knows or likes them but us?”
“Kid-you-the-fuck-not I don’t know anyone else who’s ever heard of them.”
“How is that possible?”
“We obviously hang out with the wrong people. Anyway, I practically had to beg him to put this on. Groveling for my sanity doesn’t put me in a good mood.”
“He doesn’t seem too stoked on it either.”
“I was going to push for The Fall of Troy but – “
I’m leaning in towards his face in disbelief when without thinking another beat I cup his jaw in my hands and kiss him.
“Holy shit. That was – I’m sorry I get super touchy feely when I’m stoned and I have no idea why I did that, of all things, when randomly hearing mention of a band. Though one I happen to fuck-ing love.”
“Are you telling me that all I ever had to do was name drop The Fall of Troy and I could get girls to kiss me?” He doesn’t let me move away and instead pulls me back in for a teasing kiss.
“And here I thought today totally sucked,” I joke.
“You have no idea.”
Grabbing my waist and pulling me into him I trip over that dumb, barely stapled down carpet and we both sway into a rack of stretcher bars. Thankfully he’s quicker on his feet than I am or we’d have taken down all the displays. He’s able to shift just in time so he falls into a seated position, me landing on top of him, straddling his lap. Good thing I am stoned or else I’m pretty sure I’d think I broke both knees on the thinly covered concrete. I’ll wonder about where the bruises came from later, I’m certain.
“This could not have worked out better,” he smiles. I laugh, but a succulent kiss turns it into a moan. His grip is firm as he holds me, I start to buck my hips ever so slightly onto him. I can’t help it.
“Wait! Where the fuck’s that joint?”
“You seem pretty stoned already…”
“No – fire, canvas…”
“Oh yeah, wouldn’t worry about it, I’m pretty sure I sat on it. What I’m saying is, it’s out. And my ass is burned.”
“And you didn’t even make a peep.”
“I’m not one to complain.”
Cupping his hands around my ass he drags my hips across his lap and I can feel his firmness against my leg. My insides light up and I realize that I am incredibly horny. Down girl.
“That’s a bit forward, don’t you think?”
“From the one who stole my lips.”
“Touché. I guess I set this pace. But first, I believe names are at least in order.”
“Very nice to meet you, Mia.”
His kiss has a tender intensity to it, with his soft lips and curious tongue. He bites my lower lip and sucks on it just enough that I feel a jolt run straight down my neck to my core. Catching the sultry look in his eyes as he tilts his head away makes me start aching even more. Things get heavier and just as I feel his hands start to explore my breasts, the stairs creak out a warning and we’re snapped back into our surroundings.
“Offfff course,” he complains. “Is it too much to ask to be stoned on the job making out with a totally fucking sexy woman on top of me who’s into good music?”
“The universe answers ‘yes.'”
Quickly stumbling to our feet we realize the place probably wreaks and we have a quick decision to make.
“Option A: fire exit? Option B: …”
“I got nothing.”
“Boy scout, you say.”
“Dishonorably discharged, remember?”
The footsteps stop and go back.
“What, fucking, luck,” I laugh.
“Madame, your lips, if you please.” Jacob slides his hands under the waist of my shirt and I realize something needs to be done.
“Tell me, where do you see this going right now?”
“I see your point.”
“Mmmm.” I slip my tongue between his lips. Never let a minute with a good kisser canlı bahis siteleri go to waste. That tongue of his, I want to see how it feels lapping against my clit.
“Ok. So I’m going to go quit real quick.”
“Fuck, you’re right. Cruel of you to bring reality into this, though it is reassuring I haven’t just hallucinated you. I’m here until six.”
“I’m back in class by then, til nine.”
Dragging his fingers up my thighs we keep our hips pressed tight against one another. He tangles his hand in my hair and the warmth and light scent of – what is that? cardamom? – he has about him is alluring. I just want to caress my tongue against his until my jaw hurts.
“I suppose the only question I need to ask myself is how slutty I am,” he rejoins.
“Scale of one to ten.”
“Usually a three. Seven if I’ve had any whiskey.”
“And right now?”
“I mean, I’d get naked right here and now. I told you I’d already forfeit my job to keep kissing you. These are strong signals I’m sending.”
“Unfortunately I can’t miss class and I have to be up early tomorrow. You can throw rocks at my window later, though, to wish me goodnight.”
“Definitely. At least then I can see what’s on offer.”
Jacob wraps his hand around my wrist and places my hand on his crotch.
“I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
If he’s even half as big as what I’m feeling pressed against my palm, the man speaks true.
“A tempting preview. I have high hopes you’re as talented with this as you are with your mouth.”
“There’s only one way to find out.” He bites my lip once more.
“Hand over your phone. I’ll put my number in and if you send me one solid, unbiased reference who can vouch that you’re not stranger danger, you can text me later for my address.”
“Does my dog count.”
“I said unbiased.”
“College swim coach.”
“The girl who tutored me in chem.”
“Boom. She definitely won’t lie on your behalf, tutors love to talk shit. I hope you tell her this is so you can get laid, too. If she blows up your spot it’ll give her that much more joy if you deserve it.”
Kissing my neck as I type in my info, running the tips of his fingers up my arm, giving me shivers, I wonder how the hell I’m ever going to even focus on ceramics tonight. Good thing I can have headphones on. I can listen to Doppelgänger and think about all the ways I want him to touch me. Maybe I’ll even text him a list after he’s left if he’s good on his word and does actually show up to simply say goodnight. Maybe I’ll let him up if he’s terribly good and does show up naked. A bit of brass and an inclination for fun deserves to be rewarded, after all…
The note reads:
“To keep you busy and thinking of me while I’m away.
Also, Saves the Day – You Vandal, 0:44. Or Alkaline Trio – Clavicle.
I couldn’t make up my mind.”
“Hmm.” I look at the canvas, paints, and brushes left on my front porch and inside the bag there’s a receipt with an additional bit scrawled “If you need something different for your classes, you can swap out.” So sweet. As for the songs, I pull up the first and skip ahead to the time signature. Oh, really? Saves the Day reminds me of home too, bonus points.
I pull up my bank account on my phone and cringe before logging in. Surprisingly, not the worst it could be. I’ve been living by a rule of don’t look at it, it’s too depressing, and spend as little as you’re able to, or you’ll have to look at it. I actually have enough to buy a seriously sexy lingerie set I’ve been eyeing up since first dry humping Jacob a few weeks back and I think it’s time to treat him. Though, our schedules have been fucking one another so that we haven’t been able to. Since our chance makeout we’ve been held completely apart – except for that night when he did, in fact, show up naked on my side lawn. I was already stripping down at my window to show him what he was in for when my roommate from downstairs screamed she was calling the cops because a fucked up perv was flashing her. He heard her and, wisely, dipped. It was absolutely hilarious, but we figured it best he keep away for a bit lest my roommate recognize him and decide she doesn’t care that I dared him to do it. Because she is one prude nightmare. Little did I know I missed my window until after midterms because he had to go out of town.
In the meantime, I sent him that list of things-you-should-and-by-should-I-mean-definitely-must-do-to-me-when-we-can-finally-get-naked. Foreplay is essential, but not weeks of it. One more text from him telling me an additional thing he wants to add to the list while I’m in an art history lecture and I’m going to lose it and start touching myself in front of everyone. I don’t care.
A week later I’m getting out of a shower and see my phone flashing a notification. The text reads:
– Srsly cannot wait any longer, might die of anticipation. Pls tell me youre home –
– Thought you were in Tacoma til Thurs? –
– Found excuse to get away early. So about that last canlı bahis text you sent me… –
– Oh, that – I reply, and leave him waiting.
– I did buy some lube –
– Gtfo, you are home… ya? –
– Just out of the shower, actually. Should I even bother getting dressed? –
– 10 min. Touch yourself til I get there? –
– Like I wasnt already –
– Fuck. –
I throw my phone down and grab that lingerie I sprung for. The back of the panties criss cross around my hips to my ass cheeks and hold them like a ripe peach. The sheer lace of the bra does nothing to stop my nipples from staying pert in this drafty old house. All the better. Looking down in my underwear drawer I spot the toy and lube I teased him about. Maybe I’ll just leave that there and we can play ‘hot or cold.’ Boy’s gotta work for it. As for music? Interpol. Turn on the Bright Lights, because, mischievous mood.
– Knock knock –
– Whos there –
– Multiple orgasms –
– That is the correct password –
I toss on an oversized sweatshirt that barely covers my ass and leap down the stairs. I hope none of my roommates are in the front room because I’m so turned on he might not make it fully in the door before I have his pants off and I’m on my knees.
Opening the door I find myself a bit surprised. I realize I haven’t actually laid eyes on him since that day in the art store, and he is damn handsome. The air gets sucked out of the space between us and before I know it he’s lifted me up and my legs are wrapped tight around his waist, tongues down each other’s throats.
“Wait, wait – the door.”
He turns back from the stairs, I knock it closed with my foot and the inertia of my kick tips us into the wall. Pulling his face back I can see a wildness in his eyes that immediately gets me wetter. We slide down onto the stairs and he’s pulling off his shirt, pressing his hips hard into me, pinning me on a step.
“Wait, shit, I forgot to see if anyone was even home.”
He cranes his head around and back into the living room.
“I don’t see anyone.” He reaches a hand for the hotspot between my legs and I feel my body melt in relief.
“Goddamn, I’ve been waiting for you to touch me there for-fucking-ever. I feel like I might faint from the pleasure already.”
“Baby, it is going to be a long night, get on my level.”
He tilts his head so our eyes lock in a half closed gaze and I shutter as he pulls the fabric of my panties aside and slips a finger in.
“Are we doing this right here, on the stairs?”
“As hot as that sounds, let’s get to my room.”
Pulling me up he presses his lips against mine and we stumble up a few more steps before I break away and speed up the rest of the stairs. He catches me just inside my door and grabs my hips, slamming them back into him.
“Is that a promise?” I ask.
“I will give you whatever you want, any way you want, just tell me where to start.”
“Remember our list?”
“Every fucking part of it.”
Tearing my sweatshirt off he playfully pushes me back onto the bed before laying himself on top of me. His weight is such a comfort, the way his hands, hips, and every part of him are exploring and pressing into every part of me, pinching my nipples through the lace of my bra, fingers rolling around my clit, his other hand gently teasing my skin with barely there strokes – I’m consumed by the feeling and dizzy with excitement. He snaps one of the straps of my underwear so it leaves a red mark across my hip.
“Sorry I’ll be doing away with these so quickly, they’re – “
“Totally in the way,” I break in, greedily taking a heavy kiss.
“Not what I was going for, I was going to say they hug your curves beautifully, but you’re no less right.”
He gives another strap another taught pull for another crisp snap.
Sitting back and tugging my underwear down he sinks onto his knees on the floor and pulls my hips level with his lips. Wasting no time his fingers are inside me working me towards the edge and he’s sucking on my clit when I feel his other fingers start to massage my little backdoor bud. Number four. A finger slipped inside and I tense up as I feel my orgasm rush forward. One hard suck on my clit and I’m completely seized by the wave that hits me. I have to bite the back of my hand to keep myself quiet(er).
I don’t even realize I’m nearly whimpering when he starts kissing up my hip and stomach, unzipping his pants and kicking them off. I push him back and he gives me a confused look, but I lean forward to catch his lips and keep pushing him back until he’s sitting on his heels on the floor at the edge of the bed. I slide myself down, my back up against the side of the bed, hovering over top of his hard on and give him a look that says – ‘your call.’
He reads my signal and each hand grabs the sides of my waist, maneuvering me down onto that throbbing cock of his. It’s like something inside me explodes, and after the shock of the initial rush of pleasure from him slipping in subsides we’re fucking like two people about to be shipped off to war. It’s a moving tangle of lips, limbs, pulling, grabbing hands and ragged breath and moans. I wrap my legs tight around him and start grinding, making sure my clit is getting all the attention its aching for.
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