Calls you take
That phone should be out of the bed. Not that the girl had any sense of where she was right now, much less to make any kind of phone call. Her skirt –Valentino, plumcoloured, yet to be featured on pages 83-85 – rumpled up her thighs, because her hands pushed, stroked, glided along the insides of her upper legs. The girl made noise, moaning and breathing, uttering her name. Now freely without the shyness that accompanied the first few times. She knew the girls soft spots, although she had to admit that the girl was soft all over.
Stll, the rule was no phones. Unless one of them was out of the city. She had paid a lot for the one time she had broken that rule herself. The girl had shown up at her office unexpectedly a few days after and showed her quite precisely what happened when business and pleasure mix. Afterwards she had to recoat her chair.
Now she added her mouth. Slowly trailing kisses along those thighs. Her fingertips brushing first, her lips coming after. Here and there a little tongue, enough to feel the muscles retract under her ministrations. Teasing until her hands found a small barrier in the form of La Perla's. Black and drenched.
So she kissed the girls stomach, approving of the high waist of the skirt, while hooking her fingers under the flimsy material, dragging it down and breathing out over the girl, who in return shivered and begged in a whispery tone. Next to the girls legs the display of the phone lit up.
Slowly she started to kiss the girl, feeling her wetness gliding over her lips. When she would be done, it would be over her chin and nose. She never had someone so… wanton before this girl. Yet trusting, opening up to her as if the girl knew she would not hurt her, too much. It made her heart beat even louder for the girl. She would appreciate this gift of trust every moment for as long as the girl was willing to give.
Unlike him, who kept calling. No matter how many times the girl told him she didn't want to reconcile, that he had spilled his chances, he kept on believing that they were meant to be together.
But focussing on the task at hand, her favourite nowadays, she parted the girl with her tongue. Determined, yet soft, to once again explore the girl thoroughly. The moaning got in sync with her ministrations. If she took slow strokes a low oh vibrated through the room. If she shortened up little mewling sounds accompanied her movements. Grown up in a poor family she never had any musical education, but she knew that the sounds of the girl would outperform any symphony orchestra at any time.
It was how they had met again, at a recital of the twins. The girl claiming she did an article on acoustics of several different buildings. Buildings that 'accidentally' matched with places she made her appearance too. After the third casual encounter she invited the girl over to sample the acoustics of her bedroom. The girl thought that was an excellent idea.
She speeded up, flicking her tongue a little harder over the bundle of nerves. The sounds now got higher and more incoherent. She knew the girl would reach her highest soon. But she liked to draw some things out, so she slowed the rhythm again and returned to soft kisses. In the same cadence of the flickering light of the phone, showing his name on the display.
Until her touch was feather light and the phone showed 'two missed calls'. She decided to trail her hands to the girls bottom and massage the two cheeks. Adding another layer to the girls arousal. She couldn't just get enough of the responsiveness of the girl. It made her loose a little of her famous self-control, and brought up an indomitable hunger.
It was the same hunger that made her push the girl away so far, back in the era of denial. Refusing the girls support and demanding the undoable on a daily bases. It was only after she thought she had pushed the girl out of her life completely, that she recognized what the girl untied in her. That she was insatiable when it came to the girls presence, in whatever way. That she would never be able to deny the girls wishes, if it was in her capability to fulfil them. Like the begging that was now loud and clear.
The display started lightning up for the third time. With an unexpected flick of her tongue she released her hand of the girls hips for a fraction of a second to swipe on the screen. Taking his call.
But more than that, she took the girl. Because with one swift motion she stuck her tongue deep inside, only to retract again and plunge in again. Over and over. Until the girl was as tensed as a string of the violin. And then, with a last long lick ending up and sucking on the girls clitoris, she dug her nails into the skin around the girls hipbones. The girl went rigid and pitched high 'Oh Mirand-a! Oh!' and crashed down.
Spasms she couldn't get enough of went through the whole of the girl's body. Wave after wave of release flooded through both of them, bodily release and emotional release. It tangled them together in more ways than just limbs. And while softly stroking the girls stomach, and kissing her inner thigh to slowly guide the girl back to earth again she swiped once again and ended the call.
It was the most beautiful sight to see, The girl coming, and the girl in afterglow. A precious gift for her alone. From now on, the boy would do well to remember that.