His hand was on my knee again, underneath my gown. I sucked in my breath. I felt his hand slowly traveling up, his thumb on the inside of my thigh. He kissed my neck as his hand so slowly made its way higher, and everything he did caused this tingling. Was this Sheldon? How could it be? He never even let people touch him, had he ever touched anyone before this?
But he had hugged me.
I could cry to think of it, if I was in a certain mood. That hug at Christmastime over that silly napkin that Leonard Nimoy had signed. I could remember the way he had trembled as he put his arms around me, and I remembered how good he smelled, like the cleanest forest.
That was last year, when I thought I might have been the first girl he had ever hugged, and now this? He knew how to do this? His long fingers brushing my panties aside, and the circular motion around my clitoris. Just the right amount of pressure, just the right amount of everything, and I felt like I would let him do anything right now.
"Sheldon..." I wanted to ask him how he knew, who taught him, why didn't I know he knew this? But I could barely speak.
"Sheldon, how...how do you know...how to do this...?" Every word on a deep exhalation, and it felt like little stars were bursting in front of my eyes, he'd bring me to this brink of pleasure and then back off just to build it up again.
"I read it," he said, his voice low, almost a growl. I'd never heard him speak like this, I'd never heard him when he wasn't using that snotty tone, that condescending lilt to his words.
"You read it?"
I let my head fall back and I closed my eyes, a little tiny worry about Leonard coming in on us filling the back of my head like static. Every time I thought of Leonard I couldn't help feeling guilty in the best way, naughty guilty, and more aroused because of that.
"I read how to do this...now shhhhhhh," he said, and he continued to explore and press and elicit responses I didn't even know I was capable of, no one had ever made me feel like this before, and I had had a lot of lovers.
Lovers. Was Sheldon about to be my lover?
I realized what inexperienced boys my other lovers had been, how many of them weren't interested in pleasing me, only themselves. That quick slamming into me in the back of cars and pick up trucks, that drunken groping and grabbing at me when the bars closed, the rough kisses, the quickies in coatrooms and hotel bathrooms, what experience did that leave me with? Numb lips and bruised thighs and dented self esteem. That's what it left.
But Sheldon was drunk and he had to be inexperienced, although it didn't feel like it as my body responded to him, to every expert touch, to every degree of pressure that felt designed to pull forth this sublime falling apart, this painless ripping of every molecule.
"Sheldon..." I said his name softly because it was all that I could think of to say, and I didn't want him to stop, and I didn't care if Leonard came home and walked in on us a thousand times because this was worth it.
I wanted this, wanted him to keep doing what he was doing and do more, do anything and everything he had read and apparently absorbed and became an expert in, and I would let him have sex with me right here on his bed because I was drunk, too, and I'd always thought he was beautiful, if the truth be told.
I thought he was beautiful, the shape and shade of his eyes and the way his fingernails were neatly trimmed and the lighter half moons I could see on each one, and the crooked smile he had but he didn't smile that much. I liked the shape of his lips and the angle of his nose and the way he would nervously fiddle with the edge of his sleeves or the strap of his bag if something had him worried or upset.
I would let him have sex with me because of that and despite the fact that I was actually dating Leonard and having sex with Leonard, not him. I would let him but he did this, he started kissing me and doing these these things and I was drunk and weak and feeling too good to start feeling bad.
Would he ask, I wondered, almost out loud. He hadn't asked about any of this leading up to it, and that was certainly where we were headed. He hadn't asked and I had to admit I kind of liked that, liked this unexpected side that I never in a million years would have believed he possessed.
I might have been wrong but through the haze of pleasure and the low moans that Sheldon was making I thought I heard the sound of the apartment door quietly opening, and I thought I heard the sound of soft footsteps, tentative footsteps, and in another second I wouldn't be surprised at all to hear Leonard's voice ringing out our names.