Page 42 of The Woman in 3B
Anissa’s mouth fell to my neck where she continued to lick and kiss my skin. Her twisted fingers continued to corkscrew in and out of my sex, sloppy and wet. The penetration itself wasn’t going to be enough, and I thought she somehow knew that. If I wanted to cum, I was going to have to—literally—take matters into my own hands.
I pressed the tip of my middle finger against my hooded clit. I’d done the action enough in the privacy of my one-bedroom apartment that I knew actually how much pressure I needed and where to apply it. But this was new territory. I’d never had another naked body pressed against mine while I mashed my clit under my fingertips. I’d never had another person feverishly fingering me, bumping into my hand, while I tried to get myself off.
Anissa licked the side of my neck and buried her face against me. “Fuck that’s hot,” she breathed.
Her own body had begun to jerk erratically on the couch beside me. It didn’t take me long to realize that she was fingering me along with herself.
“Cum with me, Alice. Please,” she gasped in a desperate plea.
Her hand between my legs had lost its rhythm and any former elegance as she raced towards her own orgasm.
My stomach muscles tightened.
“Anissa,” I panted. “I’m going to ….”
“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” her voice chanted in my ear.
My throat tightened. My thighs twitched. My pussy clenched.
“Oh, God,” came my breathy prayer.
I sank back into the couch cushions and released a long breath. My heart pulsed everywhere. I could feel its echo in my chest, in my throat, in my hands, in the arches of my feet.
“Woah,” I breathed out. “That was …”
“I know,” Anissa echoed. “I bet you’re kicking yourself for booting me from your hotel room.” Her tone was smug. This was a self-aware woman who was confident—maybe even arrogant—about the things she did well.
“I didn’t …” I didn’t finish my protest. I didn’t have the energy for a stalwart defense. Not while my thighs were still twitching, at least.
I didn’t know the hour, but it was bright in her living room. I was sticky with sweat under the knitted afghan. The air conditioner was still running, but my naked skin stuck to the leather of the couch. I squeaked with every move and the stubborn leather material restricted my movement with halting starts and stops. I didn’t gracefully slide across the couch cushions; I skid. Under normal circumstances I would have probably felt self-conscious, but these were anything but normal circumstances.
Anissa laid on her stomach beside me. The blanket covered the lower half of her body, which left her long, tan back exposed for me to admire. Her hair-tie had loosened in the night and long locks of black hair framed her heart-shaped face.
“Good morning,” I quietly greeted, long overdue.
She traced lazy figures across the top of my hand with her fingertips. She played with the blonde, baby fine hairs on my arm. “You surprised me,” she said. “Not many people do that.”
My heart was still pounding, but I somehow found the strength to prop myself up on my elbow. “How so?”
“For one, showing up here yesterday with that flimsy excuse,” she reminded me. “But the sex. It surprised me.”
I could feel myself reddening all over. “A good or bad surprise?”
“Definitely good,” she affirmed. “You’re like a skittish little kitten out in the world, but a lioness in bed. Your confidence last night surprised me.”
“I wouldn’t call it confidence,” I refused. “But maybe I was feeling particularly inspired.”
She pursed her bee-stung lips. “Inspired?”
“I’ve never had sex with someone so beautiful.”
I didn’t know from where this honesty and transparency had come. Staring into her golden eyes was like a truth serum.
She didn’t directly respond to my praise. She didn’t deny her beauty or my devaluing of previous sexual partners. Instead, she regarded me in somber silence.
“Do you have to run off?” she finally asked.
I didn’t have a practical reason to stay. Because it was a Golden Day, I didn’t have to report to the airport or even be on call. If someone called in sick, the airline would call in someone on reserve, even if it meant flying them in from a different city.
