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Danielle

By: SlamDuncan



(Authors note: teenage morons looking for a quick stroke story, please go somewhere else.)



I had a really shitty day.

My secretary quit, to move to Texas with her new boyfriend. Somebody clipped my brand new Porsche in the parking garage, denting the hell out of the passenger side door and both fenders. One of my clients, the Avengers, tore up the hotel they were staying in. And Ozzie Schmuck, the drummer for Snakepit, got busted for coke and can't make the Australia tour.

I'm a talent agent, although on days like this one, I wonder why. Probably it has to do with the money I make, and the chance to know and hobnob with a bunch of talented and famous people. I won't drop a lot of names here, but a lot of them are people you know and admire. 

I represent actors, musicians, and a couple of sports stars. In addition to promoting them and setting up appearances, I act as father confessor, ego stroker, and sometime psychiatrist. It's the rock stars that give me nightmares, but they generate such huge sums of money, I put up with it.

My name is Jack Ingram. I'm forty-two years old, still single, and presently unattached, just having broken off brief relationship with an up-and-coming film starlet. She wanted marriage and babies, and that's not in my plans right now.

I keep myself in good shape, running daily and working out in the gym three days a week. I'm 6'2", about 180 pounds, kind of lean, but well muscled. I've got coal black hair that curls just a bit over my collar, blue eyes that betray my Black Irish heritage, a slightly crooked nose that I broke in a college football game, and chiseled features, with a deep cleft in my chin.

I live in a nice, rambling house in the hills above Malibu, constructed of lots of redwood and glass, with a huge deck cantilevered over the hillside that gives me a distant ocean view. It's nice and secluded, with no neighbors in view, and I like it that way. 

After the day I just had, all I wanted to do was have a drink, plop my ass in my favorite chair, and let the rest of the world go to hell. I poured myself three fingers of Chevas, kicked off my shoes and socks, flipped on my big screen TV, and sat down to watch the Dodgers play the Giants.

By the fifth inning, I'd downed a couple more Scotches, the Dodgers were kicking ass, and I had tuned out my work life for the rest of the evening. Then the phone rang.

Fuck it, I thought. Let it ring. That's why God invented answering machines. Then I heard the voice on the machine.

"Hi, Jack, this is Nicole..."

I'd recognize that sultry voice anywhere, and I scrambled to pick up the phone.

"Hey, babe, how are you?"

Nicole and I go back a few years; ten to be exact. She will always be the love of my life. We were together for five years, and at the time we thought it would be forever. She was an intern, working in the E.R. at the UCLA Medical Center, when I dragged myself in there to get some stitches put in my leg. Some clown had cut me off when I was riding my bicycle, and some jagged metal on a guardrail had ripped an eight-inch gash in my calf.

She was beautiful; hell, she still is, with auburn hair, milk-white skin with a face that belongs on a cameo, and deep green eyes. While she was stitching me up, I memorized her nametag, and the next day I showed up on her doorstep with a limp and a dozen roses.

She was a single mom, with an eight-year-old daughter, Danielle. She'd gotten knocked-up while an undergraduate student, and broken up with her boyfriend before she ever knew she was pregnant. She never told the guy, and never saw him again.

To make a long story short, we moved in together, and I'd never been happier in my life. Danielle was a sweet child, and we'd talked about me adopting her when we got married. Then tragedy struck her family, and our life came unraveled.

Nicole had come to UCLA from a little town in Iowa, where her father, a G.P., ran a clinic that served the whole community. Doc McGinty suffered a stroke, and Nicole went back to nurse him through his recovery. 

Doc never recovered enough to resume his practice. Nic ended up taking over the clinic and helping her mother take care of him. She ended our relationship when she moved back, because she knew I could never adjust to life in the Corn Belt. I don't even like to eat the stuff.

It broke both our hearts when we split, but it never would have worked, and we both knew it. We've remained great friends ever since, and there isn't anything I wouldn't do for her.

"Jack, I've got a big favor to ask you."

"Ask away, you know I'm always here for you."

"Danielle graduated from high school this year, and I promised her a summer in California for a combination graduation and eighteenth birthday present."

"Sounds great! Maybe I could take her to dinner some night when she's here."

"Well, there's a little more to it than that. She was supposed to come out with her girlfriend, but Lindsay's parents had second thoughts and they won't let her go. I don't want her being in L.A. all by herself, and I was wondering if she could maybe stay with you?"

I was silent for a moment. Shit, that's all I needed was some giggling teenager running amuck in my house all summer. This would really cramp my style. But this was Nicole, and I couldn't say no to her.

"Sure she can, Nic. I've got a nice guest room. She'll be welcome." Welcome as ants at a picnic. 

"When will she be coming?"

"In a week. I'll email you her flight number and arrival time. And, Jack, thank you."

I poured myself three more fingers of Chevas, and plopped back in my chair. The Dodgers had blown a four run lead in the seventh inning. 

Let's see, the last time I saw Danielle she was thirteen; a gangly pre-pubescent, with braces on her teeth, and little bitty bumps on her chest that would become breasts some day. 

My car came back from the body shop the day before she arrived. I have a love affair with this set of wheels; it's a metallic silver boxster spyder with a 325 horsepower engine and six-speed stick shift. It goes like a bat out of hell, and sticks to the road like gum on your shoe.

I got to the airport in plenty of time, and hung around the gate, waiting for her arrival. After five years, I didn't know if I'd recognize her; maybe I should have held up a sign with her name on it.

I kept watching as people came down the concourse, but I didn't see anyone I recognized. My attention was diverted by this pair of legs coming out of a short black skirt. My eyes roamed higher, to a pair of hips that swung provocatively when she walked. Higher yet, to a magnificent rack encased in a blue chambray blouse, unbuttoned enough to show a modest amount of cleavage, and long auburn hair that hung down almost to her waist, with a gentle curl on the ends.

As she got closer, I could see her face. It was Nicole's! Nicole's face on a body that would stop traffic. She was a stone fox. Actually, she looked like Megan Fox.

She glanced over the waiting crowd, and finally spotted me. Our eyes locked, and this gorgeous smile spread across her face. She broke into a run and hurled herself against me, enveloping me in a giant hug. Her firm breasts pressed against my chest, and she planted a big kiss on my cheek. I felt a little tingle in my loins, then my brain flashed a big HANDS OFF!

"Hi, Uncle Jack. Thanks so much for letting me stay with you."

"My pleasure. Wow, you sure have grown up. And by the way, let's drop the 'uncle'; just call me Jack."

"Okay, Jack. I know you're not my uncle, anyway."

"We didn't fool you, huh?"

"Not with all the noises I heard coming out of Mom's bedroom."

"Oops."

She grinned at me. God, she had a sexy smile. Maybe it wouldn't be that bad a summer after all. At least I'd have plenty of eye candy.

I took her luggage tickets and we headed for the carousel. She had brought four large suitcases that were not going to fit in the Boxster, so I hired a taxi to take them to the house. 

My car blew her away. It's a total chick magnet, which is one of the reasons I bought it. My mother didn't raise any foolish children. The top was off, as it usually is, because it's a pain in the ass to put it on. It's completely manual; you have to dig it out of the trunk and stretch it over the roll bars, and it usually leaks anyway. So I try not to drive it in the rain.

It started up with a throaty roar, and I couldn't resist laying a little patch of rubber when I pealed out of the access road to the airport. The only difference between the men and the boys, is the size of their dick and the price of their toys.

As soon as I could, I cut over to the Pacific Coast Highway. It's a beautiful drive, and I thought sure Danielle would enjoy it. She had pushed her hair over her back, and it was streaming in the wind. When the sun shone on it, the auburn color was streaked with red and gold.

The sun was setting as we pulled in my driveway, and we walked out on to the deck to watch it go down. A few clouds scudded across the horizon, tinged with purple and orange. We watched as the glowing red ball descended toward the horizon, then slowly dropped out of sight over the edge.

All of a sudden, there was a bright green flash that lasted about two seconds, right where the sun had gone down.

"Wow, what was that?" Danni asked.

"That was a green flash."

"Yeah, well, that was obvious. What causes it?"

"It's some kind of an atmospheric light refraction that only happens occasionally. I don't remember the whole scientific explanation. This is only the third time I've ever seen one."

"It was awesome." She was standing right next to me at the railing, our arms brushing against each other. I felt a little current of electricity.

"Jimmy Buffet wrote a song about it. The native Hawaiians believe it brings you good luck." 

"Well, let's hope it brings US good luck." I wondered what she meant by that.

Danielle was starting to yawn. She was still on Midwest time and a bit jetlagged. Before she went to bed, she gave me another big hug, lingering just a bit longer this time. I watched her from behind and she walked down the hall toward her room. Legs. Hips. Ass. Luscious. And off limits. Sigh.

I had done up a load of laundry, and I was putting some fresh towels in the guest bathroom. It was nice to see the counter lined with girl-stuff for a change; cosmetics, body lotion, perfume, and whatever else those little vials and jars contain. And there was a light green compact-like thing that contained birth control pills.

I couldn't resist peeking in the laundry hamper, and there was some of the sexiest underwear I've ever seen.

In the morning, I woke to the smell of coffee brewing, and bacon frying. I climbed out of bed and pulled on a pair of well-worn Levis, and carefully pulled up the zipper; I was going commando style, and didn't want to get anything caught in it. I didn't bother with a shirt or shoes.

Danni was whipping up some eggs in a bowl, with a wire whisk. She was wearing a pair of cutoff shorts and a tee shirt. SHORT shorts; so short the bottoms of her ass cheeks were hanging out. As she whomped on the eggs, her curvaceous butt was wiggling in time with her arm. 

Her tee shirt was torn off at the bottom, exposing her taut belly and a cute little jeweled dangly thing hanging from a navel piercing. The tee was tight on top, clinging to her magnificent rack. She's not huge, probably about a C cup, but they look terrific on her svelte frame. She had her hair tied off in a ponytail with a rubber band.

She turned away from the stove and gave me that 

wonderful smile.

"Hey, I like the look," she said.

"What look?"

"Bare chest, low slung jeans, tousled hair, stubble on the face. You look like a character in a Nora Roberts romance novel." She took her hand, and ruffled it through my mat of chest hair, like you'd muss the hair on a little boy.

"You read romance novels?"

"Among other things."

"There goes my cholesterol count," I said eyeing the bacon on my plate. She'd made bacon, a western omelet and fresh squeezed orange juice.

"I live in Iowa; everyone in Iowa eats part of a pig for breakfast."

It suddenly occurred to me that I didn't have any bacon in the house. No fresh oranges either.

"Where'd you get the bacon and oranges?"

"You needed a bunch of stuff so I went to the market." The nearest market is six miles away, down a twisty mountain road.

"How did you get to the market?"

"I took your car. The keys were on the table by the door."

My CAR? My PORSCHE? NOBODY drives my car. I don't even let the valet parking attendant drive my car; I park it myself. She could see my distress, but I swallowed hard and didn't say a word.

"Don't worry, I've been driving a tractor since I was ten."

"A Porsche is not a tractor."

"No shit. It is soo hot! I went through the S turns at eighty and didn't slide a bit."

Aaaaaarrrrggggghhhhh!

I had a whole big list of touristy things to do with her, starting with Disneyland. Danielle turned out in a pair of designer jeans, that looked like they were painted on, and a low-cut crop top that displayed an ample amount of cleavage. The cleft in her butt was visible, and the seam in the crotch disappeared into a perfect camel toe.

She was aware that I was checking out her charms, and kept this sly, sexy grin on her face. She made up some excuse to bend over in front of me, so I got a great view of her succulent breasts, encased in white lace. I unconsciously wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, just in case I was drooling.

Danni skipped through the park like the eight-year-old little girl she was when I first met her. Except for the body, of course. I have to admit, I turn into a kid myself; you're never too old for Disneyland. 

She loved the thrill rides; Splash Mountain, the Matterhorn Bobsleds, and Space Mountain. She clung to my arm and shrieked, along with everyone else, then looked at me with her beautiful smile when we reached the bottom of the descent.

When the holograms popped out of the dark in the Indiana Jones adventure, she threw her arms completely around me, her firm breasts pressed into my chest. She held me like that much longer than necessary, after the scary stuff was over.

We had dinner at the Blue Bayou Restaurant, just outside the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, and stayed after dark for the fireworks. She stood in front of me, and I had my arms around her shoulders. One hand inadvertently fell on her boob, and I left it there.

Before we left the park, she pulled out her iPhone and took a picture of us; Danni wearing her Mickey Mouse ears, and I had on a Goofy cap with the floppy ears hanging down. We had our arms around each other's waist.

"I had a great time, Jack," she said when we arrived at home. She put her arms around my neck, and pulled me into a goodnight kiss. A long kiss. A delicious kiss. Her full lips are so soft and supple. I think I had dents in my chest where those delectable tits pressed into me. My dick was at half-mast.

We went out for dinner the next evening. I was taking her Spago and then to Johnny D's, a hot new nightspot. Sure, I was showing off a little bit, but why not? I wore a pair of grey slacks, a light blue oxford cloth shirt, and a blue blazer. I topped it off with a Jerry Garcia necktie.

My heart skipped a beat when Danielle came down. She was wearing a red mini-dress that looked like she'd been poured into it. It was low cut with spaghetti straps, skin tight around the waist, with a flared skirt that stopped above mid-thigh. A strapless bra lifted those luscious tits up high, with enough cleavage to make me pant like a dog on a hot day. She was drop-dead gorgeous.

"Does the fact that your tongue is hanging out mean you like the dress?"

"Oh yeah! Almost as much as I like what's in it."

"Are you flirting with me?"

"A little bit."

"Jaaaack?" Uh oh.

"Yes?"

"Can I drive? Please, Jack? Pretty please?"

"Not with those high heels on." 

"What heels?" She kicked the shoes off.

I can't fucking believe I reached into my pocket and handed her the keys. Nobody drives my Porsche.

Danielle fired it up, and revved it a couple of times. I love the roar of those tuned exhausts as much as a Hell's Angel likes the sound of his Harley. She backed out of the garage, whipped it around, and punched it. There's about a mile of straight road before you come to the curves.

A Boxster will do zero to sixty in 4.9 seconds. It's got enough torque to slam you back in your seat. It's got enough torque to make your asshole pucker up. 

The speedometer topped 100 when she got to the first turn, a tight 270 degrees that bent to the left. She tapped the brakes, then dropped three gears at the entrance to the curve. Heel-and-toeing the accelerator and brake pedals, she hit the apex of the turn and punched it, upshifting into the straightaway. Like she said, she barreled through the esses at eighty, with no drift at all.

She cruised through he rest of the turns, and there are a lot of them, like Danica Patrick on a road course in an Indycar. Normally, I would have shit my pants, but for some reason, I was as calm as a clam. She pulled to a halt at the stop sign at the end of the road at Highway 1, and flashed me a big smile.

"Damn, that was fun. I think I had an orgasm."

"Do you have a lot of orgasms?"

"Only with my fingers," she said with a cute little pout. "But I hope to change that soon." She looked at me and batted those deep green eyes.

"Are you flirting with me?"

"Yeah." She grinned and pulled out on the highway, laying down a good hundred feet of rubber.

As I suspected it might, Spago impressed the hell out of her; doubly so when the maitre'd addressed my by name. As he escorted us to a cozy corner table, Danielle attracted a host of admiring glances.

I ordered a bottle of Donatello Chardonnay, nodded approval, and the wine steward filled our glasses. He wasn't about to card anyone who looked like that. We drank our wine and engaged in small talk.

"Where the hell did you learn to drive like that?"

"Video game. It's got every road course on the Grand Prix circuit on it. I have a console with a steering wheel, pedals, the works."

I ordered the Maine Diver Scallops, served with French black truffles and hearts of palm. Danni had the grilled Colorado lamb rack. We were in the midst of eating, when a gorgeous blonde in a cocktail dress leaned down into my face and gave me a quick kiss.

"Mmm-wah. Nice to see you, Jack."

"Hi, Maggie. I'll send that new contract out to you next week."

Danielle sat there with her mouth hanging open. "My God, that's Margaret McNeil. I just loved her in 'The Proud Ones'. She's one of your clients?" I nodded humbly.

Dinner finished, we moved on to Johnny D's. It was gaudy and it was loud, just as you'd expect a hot dance club to be. We got a table and ordered a couple of margaritas. The music had a throbbing beat, and strobe lights cut through the air, flashing and freezing the dancers on the floor.

"Do you dance, Jack?"

"Sure do." She took me by the hand and led me out on the floor. New dances change weekly, but you can make out by basically getting out there and shaking your booty. And, man, did she have a booty to shake; tits and ass, jiggling and bouncing and shaking to the frantic beat of the music. I was mesmerized just watching her.

I took her hands in mine and we boogied in and out for awhile, then I flung her out away from me and twirled her around. Her short skirt flew up in the air, revealing her slight thong and her gorgeous buns for anyone who was close enough to see. I was plenty close enough.

When the band shifted into a slow number, I took her in my arms, and we swayed to the music. We held each other tightly, and her heady perfume assaulted my senses. My hand slid down the small of her back and rested on the rise of her ass. We took a break and went back to our table.


Danielle



" 'ello, Jack," a cockney voice spoke into my ear. My visitor had long hair, full tattoos down both arms, and large brass hoop in his ear.

"Oh my God," Dannie gasped, "You're Ricky Dangerous!"

Rickey was the lead singer in the Avengers, a group I was not too happy with.

" 'ello, love," he said to her. "Who's the mink, Jacko?"

"This is my, uh, niece, Danielle."

"Niece? Well, whatever you say, Jacko."

"You're my favorite group; I have all your CD's."

"Well, 'at's real sweet. Would you like my autograph?" He pulled a fine pointed Sharpie out of his pocket.

"I don't seem to have anything to write on."

" 'ow about I sign in on one o' them titties?" he leered, staring at her cleavage.

"Sure," Danni gushed, pulling the top of her dress down and exposing the upper swell of her breast.

"There you go, love." Ricky signed with a flourish.

"Wow, I'll never take a shower again."

The music picked up again, and she dragged me back out on the floor.

"Have you ever done any grinding, Jack?"

"Can't say as I have."

She flashed me a lewd grin, and as the music picked up, turned her back to me, bent forward, pressed her butt right into my groin, and started grinding away. Backing away would have been really awkward on that crowded dance floor. Besides, I didn't really want to. 

The inevitable happened. Her gorgeous ass sliding back and forth in my groin, caused my cock to get hard as a rock. She flipped the back of her skirt up and, except for the tiny strap on her thong, she was grinding her NAKED ass against my cock. I knew she felt it and, at that point, I didn't care. 

I grabbed her hips and held her tight against me. She grinded. I humped. I didn't let go until there was a big wet stain spreading across the front of my pants. I hoped the music drowned out my primal scream when I came.

"Grinding is fun, isn't it, Jack?" she asked looking straight at my wet spot, her hand over her mouth, suppressing a giggle. 

"Uhhh, oh yeah."

When we got home, Danni asked me help her unzip her dress. She must have been a contortionist to get the damned thing on in the first place. I pulled the zipper down, the spaghetti straps "accidently" slipped off her shoulders, and the dress pooled at her feet.

"Oops," she said, standing there innocently, in a see-through lace bra, that did magnificent things with her tits, and a matching lace thong. She gave me an extra-long goodnight kiss, with just a little flick of her tongue before she pulled away. She sashayed down the hall, my eyes glued on that swaying naked ass.

The next night we stayed home with a couple DVD's than Danielle picked out at the video store. One was a chick flick, the other was a slasher film. I like chick flicks, especially if there's nudity in it. This one had it.

I nuked up a bag of Orville Redenbacher in the microwave, and pulled the cork out of a bottle of merlot. We sat down on the couch in front of the flatscreen, dressed in our nightwear; mine was a tee shirt and boxer shorts; hers was a long tee shirt of mine that she had appropriated and, I assumed, she was wearing panties under it. She was obviously not wearing a bra, and I tried hard not to focus on the jiggling boobs, or the dents her nipples made in the front of it. We chatted awhile, before starting the movies.

"So, Jack, how's your love life? You haven't mentioned any current girlfriends."

"Non-existent at the moment. How about you? A boyfriend back home?"

"No, no boyfriend. I've had a few dates, but that's all. I'm probably the only girl in my graduating class that's still a virgin."

"In this day and age, that's something you should be proud of. Waiting for the right guy?"

"Yeah, I guess. I just wasn't into giving it up to some Iowa farm boy in a hayloft. I haven't had much experience. I let one guy feel me up a little, and I gave him a hand job. Well, sort of hand job, I guess."

"What's 'sort of' a hand job?" This way more information than I was expecting.

"Well, he unzipped his pants, and I put my hand in there, and I pulled on it about twice and he shot his load immediately. I didn't even get to see it."

"Well, young guys have a tendency to do that."

"Mom says you're a terrific lover."

"Aw shucks."

"Yeah, she says you give the best head she's ever had."

{{CHOKE}} "You and your mom talk about stuff like that?"

"Sure, we talk about everything. She gave me a vibrator for my eighteenth birthday. She said I should pop my cherry with, so when I finally get laid, it won't hurt."

I changed the subject, and we settled back to watch the movie. Her tee shirt hiked up a little bit, and I could see she was wearing panties under it. Tiny little panties. The lacy front piece had slipped between her fat little lips. I couldn't tell for sure if she shaved her pussy, but there wasn't any obvious hair down there.

"Remember how we used to cuddle when I was a little girl?"

"Yeah, I sure do."

"Well, I want to cuddle now." She scooted over next to me, laid her head on my chest, and I put my arm around her shoulder. We got to a romantic scene in the movie, where they were kissing passionately. She looked up into my eyes, and pulled my head down toward hers.

"I want to kiss you; I haven't had a lot of practice, so I don't know if I do it right."

I knew I really shouldn't do it, but....well, a kiss isn't exactly.... Before I could finish my thought, her full, soft lips had engaged mine. I returned her kiss with abandon. Her tongue snicked out, and was suddenly between my lips and into my mouth. My tongue danced with hers. Her lips nibbled at mine, and I took her lower between my teeth and nipped at it. Our arms were totally wrapped around each other; her breasts mashed against my chest. I had an enormous hard-on.

"Am I a good kisser, Jack?" she asked as we moved apart. Her eyes were glued on the tent pole in my shorts.

"You're a wonderful kisser, Danni."

"Oh good," she said. "I'll see you in the morning. I have a date with my vibrator." She skipped off down the hall.

I lay in bed, listening to the faint buzzing sound coming from her room, and I visualized her playing with her toy. My balls were blue, so I started stroking my cock. Angelina Jole was my usual jerk-off fantasy; that night it was Danielle.

We were going to the beach the next day. We waited until afternoon so the fog would burn off and the air would warm up. I had visions of Danni in her bikini, but I had probably already seen as much of her in her skimpy undies.

"I thought we'd go to Zuma Beach," I said. "It's got miles of sand, and is a hot spot for surfers when the waves are up."

"I found one on the internet I'd like to try," she said, with a sly grin.

"Okay, go for it." I handed her the keys to my Porsche. What the fuck, she's a better driver than I am anyway, and I like to watch the excitement on her face when she's driving it. I also like the way the seatbelt looks between her boobs.

We drove north on the Pacific Highway. She pulled off about ten miles north of Zuma Beach, into a little turnout on the left side of the road. There were just three other cars there. She led me down a narrow dirt path between the saw grass and other coastal flora.

There was a kind of rickety set of wooden stairs that went down the bluff to the sand below. I'd lived here all my life, and I didn't know about this place. There were only half a dozen couples down on the beach, and as we got closer, I could see they were all naked! Danielle had taken me to a nude beach!

We hit the sand and spread out our beach towels. Danni whipped off the oversized tee shirt she was wearing and, instead of the bikini I was expecting, she was stark naked underneath it. 

I'm sure my mouth was hanging wide open, as I stood there taking in this voluptuous teenager, in all her naked glory. Her unencumbered breasts looked even larger, capped with light pink nipples, and quarter-sized areolas. They were round and firm, without a hint of sag. As I expected, her mound was hairless, her slit prominently displayed. I could feel a little swelling in my cock.

"Come on, Jack, aren't you going to take them off?"

"I, er, ah...."

"You chicken? Nudity is perfectly natural. The human body is beautiful; my mom says so."

"Well, we can't argue with your mother, can we?" Visions of Nicole flew through my head. Her body was certainly gorgeous, although she wasn't quite as built as her daughter.

Convinced that, although my cock was a bit inflated, it still hung down, and I wasn't going to embarrass myself with a full-fledged erection, I dropped my drawers. Danielle's eyes widened, and she stared unabashedly at my crotch.

"Pardon me for staring, Jack, but I've never seen a live penis before. Besides, turnaround is fair play; you certainly were ogling my tits. Do you like them?"

"Oh yeah!" Damn, she's got a sexy smile.

"Come on, let's go swimming."

She took my hand, and we went jogging down toward the water. Cowa-fucking-bunga! do those bubbies bounce when she runs. We ran straight into the water, diving under the first wave that came in, surfacing on the other side.

Swimming out thirty yards or so, I showed her how to catch a wave and ride it in. She's never been in the ocean before.

After a half-hour or so, we headed back toward the beach. We were standing in about knee-deep water, and Danni had her back turned to the ocean. A good-sized wave snuck up from behind, knocked her off balance, and she flew right into my arms.

There I was, standing with this drop-dead gorgeous, naked hard-bodied teenager wrapped around me, her firm round breasts slithering across my chest, my leg between hers, resting right on her pussy. My cock started to swell, to half-mast this time, before I extricated myself and ran back to the towel, staying in front of her so she couldn't see how excited she was making me. 

Once we were dried off, Danni broke out the sun block. Lying on my stomach, I watched as she applied it to her legs, then her belly, her arms, and her shoulders. Then she squirted it on her breasts. She spent a loong time rubbing it in, using both hands. She was literally caressing those luscious tits, cupping them with her hands, looking me right in the eye, like she was making a sacred offering.

Then she started rubbing it into her nipples, stroking them and rolling them between her thumb and fingers. Her eyelids dropped to half-mast, and her breath came in gasps. Still lying on my stomach, I think I was making a tunnel in the sand with my hard-on.

She applied a bunch of it on her mound, spread her legs a bit, and went to work on her nether region. I watched her apply it to her labia, that began to swell up under her hand. One finger dipped into her slit. Her eyes were locked on mine; there was a dreamy smile on her face.

She rolled over on her stomach and handed me the block to put on her backside. She wasn't looking at me, as I straddled her, but when I leaned forward to do her shoulders, I'm sure she could feel my erection lying between her cheeks. Her skin felt so good under my hands, and I massaged and kneaded her back.

I was going to do just a quick once-over on her butt, but when those firm young globes were in my hands, I succumbed to the temptation, and gave them my full attention. Glutes are wonderful muscles to get your hands on, especially hers. I dug my hands in deep, lifting her cheeks forward and applying pressure with my thumbs.

She started to rock side-to-side as I ministered to her ass, and she was emitting a series of pleasure groans. I squirted some block between her cheeks, and spent more time than necessary in her cleft. My finger circled her little rosebud and she lifted her hips and moaned again.

When I got to her legs, she spread them slightly apart, and I got a good view of the south side of her cunt. I reluctantly avoided even casually brushing against it when I got to her thighs. After all, this is Nicole's daughter, for Christ's sake, and so far I had avoided doing anything sexual with her. Kissing is friendly. Nudity is natural. Yup.

"You sure have wonderful hands, Jack," she purred. "Now it's your turn."

I hopped off of her, and lay face down, so she could do my back. I expected her to just wipe the block on me quickly, but she didn't. She lingered. Kneaded. Massaged. It felt wonderful.

"You've got great buns," she cooed, as she gave them as much attention as I had given hers. The backs of her hands most definitely ran over my balls, and lingered there.

I took the vial of sun block back from her, and having used up all of my willpower to let my inflated prick go soft, I rolled over. I slathered my self with the lotion and, as quickly as I could, ran some over my cock. I knew if I spent any time there, it would rise again. Danni was watching me intently.

"You ought to shave down there, Jack."

"Down where?"

"Your pubes. It would really be cool. It would make it look bigger, too."

"I think I'd be too nervous with the razor."

"I can do it for you," she said, with that devilish grin on her face again.

"Mmm, umm, guhunk," I muttered unintelligibly, and quickly changed the subject.

When we were ready to leave, she stood up, then bent over to brush some sand off her knees. Her hanging breasts jiggled so invitingly. Another couple sauntered by and Danielle called them over.

"Hey, can you take our picture?" she asked, handing the guy her iPhone.

She stood beside me, leaned in close, and put her arm around my waist. Hesitantly, I put my arm around her. The guy snapped off several shots.

"Uh, what are you going to do with these?" I asked.

"Oh, I just want a souvenir of a great day."

That evening, after we got home, Danni was huddled over her laptop, and I settled back to watch the Dodgers' game. The phone rang. It was Nicole.

"Hi, Nic."

"Hi, Jack, how are you and Danielle getting along?"

"Oh, fine; she's a great kid, you've really done a wonderful job with her."

"So, you're enjoying her company?"

"Oh, yeah, but there's, ah, one thing...."

"What's that, Jack?"

"I, uh, uh, I think she's trying to seduce me." Nicole burst into that wonderful laugh of hers.

"Well judging from the picture she emailed me of you two on the beach, it looks like she's succeeding." She chuckled again.

"Oh well, that, ah, picture....let me explain...."

"You don't have to explain anything; that's the reason I sent her out there."

"To seduce me?" I was incredulous.

"She's of legal age, she's ready for sex, she's horny as hell, and I want her first time to be with an experienced lover, not some fumbling farm boy in a hayloft. And, Jack, you're the best lover I ever had."

"But, she's your daughter, Nicole. I've known her since she was a little girl; it almost seems like incest."

"It's not incest. Besides, she's always had a major crush on you."

"Now let me get this straight. You, her mother, are telling me it's okay to have sex with your daughter?"

"I'm encouraging you to have sex with my daughter. She's gorgeous, isn't she?"

"Oh God, yes, she's beautiful."

"So now that she's hooked you, let her reel you in slowly. One step at a time."

"You mean like the old first base, second base kind of thing?"

"Exactly. And I'll have to admit, I'm a bit jealous."

"I'll always love you, Nicole."

"I'll always love you too, Jack."

I went back to the Dodgers game, and must have nodded off a bit. My nose woke me first, with the sweet smell of Danielle's perfume in the air. I opened one eye, and saw her approaching me with a handful of paraphernalia; a pair of scissors, a safety razor, an aerosol can of shaving cream, some lotion, and a couple of towels. She plopped them all down on the coffee table in front of me.

"What's all that for?" I asked.

"It's for your shave," she grinned wickedly.

"What shave?"

"I'm going to shave your pubes, just like we talked about. So slide out of those shorts."

I griped and grumbled a bit, but then she was so cute about it, I complied. Jesus Christ, first I hand over my car, now I'm going to let her get near my balls with a razor! 

First she took the scissors and snipped off as much of the long hair as she could. Then she lathered me up, and went to work with the razor. She shaved everything off of my pubis, my balls, and even lifted my dick up to get the hairs on the underside. I think it was abject fear that kept me limp.

When she applied the lotion afterward, so that I wouldn't get a rash, the flaccidness was over. One heartbeat at a time, my cock pulsed itself into a full erection. 

"Oh boy, look what I did," she grinned.

She squirted some lotion all over the head of my cock, and then began to stroke it. Making a fist with her hand, she let my crown slide through it, all the way down to the base, while her other hand gently fondled my balls.

Adding some more lotion, she laced her fingers together, and swirled them around and around. My hips started thrusting, until I was literally fucking her hands. My balls contracted, and I could feel that wonderful rush coming on.

"Oh, God, Danni...Danni...OHHH!" Spurt after spurt of jizz erupted from the tip of my cock, coating her hands.

"Did you like that, Jack?"

"Oh yeah!"

"Good!" she said, then gave me a deep soul kiss, and scooted off to bed.

The next night, I had scored a pair of tickets to see the Rolling Stones at the Hollywood Bowl. The Bowl only holds 18,000 people, so it's a smaller venue than some they're used to, like the Meadowlands. They Stones, like the Beatles, have a universal appeal, to teenagers and old farts alike. Danielle was really excited.

The show was terrific. Mick Jagger gyrates on the stage today the same way he did in his twenties. I only hope I can stand up that long when I'm seventy. The business I'm in offers a few perks, and I was able to get a backstage pass. Danni got to meet Mick and she was thrilled to the core. She laughed at Keith Richard, who looks like a cadaver.

We were both wired up when we got home, so we changed into our nightwear, and I opened a bottle of wine. After all the raucous rock we listened to earlier, I put some soft jazz on the stereo. She snuggled up next to me, and soon we were making out. It was hot and heavy.

"Jack?"

"Yes?"

"Will you make me come with your hand, like I did for you last night?"

She stretched out on the couch, with her head in my lap. I started rubbing her stomach, in slow, lazy circles, each revolution moving a little lower, until I reached her mons. I pulled her tee shirt up; she wasn't wearing any panties.

Caressing her thigh, I stroked it, over her mound, and down the other side. She spread her legs apart slightly. I began to slowly fondle her lips, and watched them blush and swell under my hand.

I lightly ran my finger up and down her slit; it was wet and the sweet smell of sex filled the air. Opening her up, I caught each of her minora between my thumb and finger and massaged them lightly. Her breathing got heavy, and she was starting to squirm. 

I slipped a finger into her vagina. I wanted to rip off my clothes and put my cock in there, but as her mother requested, I was going one step at a time. It took me back to my own teen years, and the anticipation and excitement of going a little farther each time, until we finally hit the home run.

Adding a second finger, I sawed them in and out of her hot, wet hole. I'd totally forgotten how much fun finger-fucking could be. Danni was starting to moan. With my fingers well lubed with her juices, I ran my two fingers along both sides of her clitoral shaft, teasing, bringing her along slowly.

I rippled my fingers back and forth over her hood, then gently reached down and found her little glans as it peeked out.

"Oh, God, Jack, that feels so good.....so good."

Her hips rose up, then she started bucking against my hand.




Danielle



"I'm gonna come, Jack, gonna come." Her whole body shook and shuddered. "NOW, Jack....OH GOD....JESUS....YES...YES....OOOH!"

I knew her pussy was too sensitive to touch, so I stroked her tummy again, until she calmed down.

"That was wonderful, Jack. Thank you, thank you." She gave me a deep kiss, and walked slowly to her room. I sucked her moisture off my fingers.

No tour of southern California is complete without a visit to Venice Beach, the kook capitol of the world. The Boardwalk stretches for about one and miles, and there are hundreds of street vendors and performers. You can see everything from break dancers to broken glass walking, mimes, musicians, jugglers, jesters, and everything in between. Half naked girls throng to the place. You can get your fortune read or have your name written on a grain of rice.

"Oh, I want to get a tattoo," Danielle said, as we passed an ink and piercing parlor.

"Your mother would kill me."

"I'll get it in a place where she'll never see it." She skipped right in to the bowels of the seedy-looking establishment.

I hung around outside watching the hardbodies on their in-line skates go streaking across the boardwalk. A trio of muscle-bound apes sauntered by, in full flex mode. Danni though Muscle Beach was "gross." I had to agree. Finally, she came out of the joint.

"Okay, so where's the tattoo?"

"I guess you'll just have to find out," she said with a sultry grin, batting her eyelashes at me.

"You're flirting with me again."

"Uh huh."

We had dinner at the Urbano Pizza Bar, rated as one of the best pizza joints in L.A. They serve a Neapolitan-style pie made with a dough that develops an intense sourdough tang and a slight smokiness after it's journey through a glowing wood-fired oven. There's an unending variety of toppings available. We couldn't agree on everything, so I had anchovies on my half ("eww") and she had grilled Brussels sprouts on hers ("yuck").

We made it home by sunset again and, arm-in-arm, we watched it from the deck. No green flash that night.

Making out on the couch had become an evening ritual, and I was enjoying it more than I did when I went parking as a teenager. That night, her hand went right into my lap, fondling me until I was hard as steel. She tugged my boxers down, and my cock pointed at the ceiling. 

She grasped it in her hand and, without missing a beat, bent down and ran her tongue from the base to the crown. I don't remember there being a specific base for oral sex; it's somewhere between third and home. 

"You'll have to tell me what you like; I've never done this before. My mom gave me an article from a magazine on how to give a great blowjob, but I'm winging it."

"Lots of lips and tongue, especially right here," I said, showing her my favorite spot just below the head. Bless you, Nicole.

"When you come, I want you to do it in my mouth; I want to taste you."

Her tongue went everywhere. She lifted my scrotum and licked the underneath, around the front, and nibbled the soft skin with her lips. When you have one of your balls in someone's mouth, there's a little balance between high anxiety and ecstasy. In this case, the latter prevailed. 

She got about half my cock in her mouth, and bobbed up and down, sucking and tonguing at the same time. She didn't try to deep-throat me, and I didn't want her to. To me, getting deep-throated is like sticking your dick in a toilet paper tube; I like mine where the tongue is.

She did amazing things with her lips around the rim of my head, and laved the living shit out of my special place. Then she went to work in earnest, moving her head up and down over my glans, and pumping my shaft with her hands. 

I felt my balls draw up, and was overwhelmed by that delicious pre-orgasmic sensation that happens before I come. Then the main event. I fisted my hands in her hair and pumped my load into her mouth.

"Oh Jesus, Danielle....OOOH GOD....AHhhhhhh....mmmm....oh yes...."

"Did I do good, Jack?"

"Oh, baby girl, you were wonderful." I pulled her face to mine and kissed her deeply, tasting my own semen in her mouth.

"The Girl Scouts ought to have a merit badge for cocksucking," she chuckled.

"You were a Girl Scout?" I love it when this sweet little girl talks dirty.

"Not for long; I hated those stupid uniforms." Come to think of it, I'd never seen a porn flick with a Girl Scout uniform in it; they were always those little plaid schoolgirl skirts. Lotsa nuns habits too.

"Are you ready for your turn?"

"You mean you want to eat my pussy?"

"Oh yeah!" 

I pulled her tee shirt over her head. She was naked underneath it. I found her tattoo, too. There was a tiny rose right at the top corner of one of her pussy lips.

I started kissing her again. I like to work from the top down. While kissing, I fondled her breasts. It was the first time I'd ever touched them. There's something special about teenage tits; so young, and so firm, so new. 

I cupped my hands under them and lifted them up, feeling their shape and their weight. I caressed them first with light strokes, just using my fingertips, then a gentle massage all around, tops, sides, bottoms, carefully avoiding her nipples.

My mouth moved from her lips, down her throat, across her chest, until I got to her breasts. She held my head in her hands, as my lips and my tongue moved over her beautiful orbs. I took the tip of my tongue and circled it around each nipple, watching them swell and harden. Drawing one, then the other, into my mouth, I suckled, flicking my tongue across the swollen tips.

Her breath was coming in ragged gasps. I could feel her body start to quiver, and my hand cupped her sex. I sucked harder and slipped one finger into her cunt, just as her first orgasm sped through her body.

"Jaaaack! Oh Jack Jack Jack....oh God....oh Jack, that felt so good."

"That was a little one, baby girl, they get better from here."

My mouth moved lower down on her body, kissing, licking, nipping with my lips. She squealed when my tongue tickled her navel. I kissed my way across her mound, and licked that little crease between her lips and her thighs. She drew her knees up and spread her legs wide.

I kept teasing her with my mouth, kissing her creamy inner thigh, across her naked mound, and down the other side. My lips caressed each of her puffy lips, now swollen and pink. When my tongue found her slit, her clitoris and minora peeked out.

I spread her lips apart, and gazed at her beautiful teenaged pussy. Her inner lips were quivering, like rose petals in a light breeze. I opened her up and looked into her tight little vagina, that was secreting a milky white fluid. 

Her odor drove me crazy, and I had to taste her musky sweet nectar. I licked, kissed, and sucked, drawing each of her pink lips into my mouth, teasing them with my tongue.

"Oh God, Jack, that feels soo good. I can't believe how 

good that feels."

I drove my tongue as far as it would go into her love hole, and ran it around and around, touching all sides of her slippery wet walls. I have a clit fetish, and the tip of her little pearl was just peeking out from its hiding place.

Sliding her hood back, I exposed her entire glans. I ran my tongue in little circles around it, then flicked it back and forth. Danni was mewling and writhing around. Crooking my finger, I slipped it into her vagina, massaging her G-spot. While still working with my finger, I sucked her entire clit into my mouth.

She arched her back, raised her hips, and fisting her hands in my hair, pushed her cunt into my face as hard as it would go.

"Oh...Oh...Jack...I'm gonna come...I'm gonna coooome, Jack....OHHHHH GOD....OH SHIT....OH FUCK...OHH...AHHHHH....Ahhhhhh....ahhhhhh....mmmmmmm. Oh God, that was so good. So good. Mom was sure right about that. Whooo."

When she staggered off to her room, there was juice running down her leg.

We spent the next day lounging on the beach; Zuma Beach where attire is required. Danielle's tiny thong bikini was as sexy as her nude body; it left a little bit to the imagination. And to the fantasy. We spent the whole afternoon baking in the sun and then headed back to the house. I was going to barbecue some steaks, and we'd eat outside on the deck.

It got a tad chilly out there, so we put on a couple of short terry robes over our swimwear. I did the steaks nice and rare, Danni made a Caesar salad, and I opened a nice bottle of Merlot. We had a nice conversation over dinner. She is extremely intelligent, and wise beyond her years. She wants to major in drama and theater arts in college, but has yet to choose the school she'll attend. With her face and body, she's a natural for either modeling, or a career in films or television. 

When we finished dinner, Danielle went in to take a shower, to wash off the salt and sun block. When I walked past her bathroom, the door was open to let the steam out. The shower door was partly steamed up, but I could see a foggy view of her body. She was bending over, washing her legs, and her tits dangled invitingly.

I opened the door and stepped in behind her. She looked startled for a second, then turned and kissed me. We stood under the water for the longest time, lips and tongues merging. Her wet body pressed against mine. My cock started to swell.

"Turn around and I'll wash your back."

I kept the bar of soap in my hand, and worked up a good lather on her back. My hands worked lower, around the generous curves of her hips, then found her gorgeous ass. She leaned forward a little bit, thrusting her rounded globes back toward me.

She spread her legs a bit, and I washed the crack between her cheeks, lingering a lot longer than it would take to get her clean. She gasped as I ran my finger around her rosebud. I reached between her legs and soaped up the backside of her pussy, and she pushed against me even harder. 

"Your hands feel wonderful, Jack."

"Lean back against me, and let me reach around and do your front side."

She pressed her back against me, and my erection lay in the cleft of her ass. I lathered up her chest, then my hands found her firm young breasts. I held one in each hand; they were so wet, so slippery. I found her nipples underneath the lather, and when I skimmed them with my fingers, I felt them swell and harden.

I made lazy circles around her taught stomach, reaching lower and lower toward her sleek mound. Gradually, I worked down to her pussy, and she spread her legs even farther apart, inviting me to come inside. 

When my slick, soapy hands slid through all her lips and folds, then finally reached her clit, she tumbled over the precipice.

"OH GOD JACK! Hold me up, my bones have turned to jelly."

I wrapped my arms around her waist, and held her until her body quit shaking. My turn. Her hands felt so soft, so good, as she washed my back. She spent lots of time on my ass, in my crack, teasing around my asshole.

She reached between my legs and soaped up my balls. Feeling them slip and slide through her hands was exquisite. I turned around and she lathered up my chest, moved down across my stomach, and lower and lower, carefully avoiding my groin.

She was bending over, working her way up my legs again, her luscious breasts dangling so invitingly. She finally got up to my cock, holding it in one hand, soaping it with the other. It responded appropriately. 

"I love to watch your penis get hard. That's so cool."

Danielle started stroking my hard, slippery rod. Then she stopped, put her arms around me and kissed me deeply.

"I'm ready for you, Jack. I want to make love with you; I 

want you to fuck me."

"Here?"

"Not here; I want to do it in bed. Give me an hour to get ready for you, and I'll meet you in your room."

I retired to the living room and poured myself half a glass of Chevas. I wanted her more than I ever wanted anyone in my life. We had weeks of teasing, flirting, and intense foreplay. I've had almost a perpetual hard-on ever since she walked into my life. 

Where, then, were these little tweaks of conscience coming from? She was Nicole's daughter, for God's sake. I wanted her. She wanted me. Her mother wanted me to be her first. That makes it a consensus, doesn't it? So far, according to Bill Clinton, we hadn't had sexual relations yet. Oral copulation is not sex. One more blast of Chevas, and my conscience flew out the window. I was ready for her. Oh God, was I ready.

I went into my bedroom, stripped the top covers off the bed, lit some candles, and put some soft jazz on the stereo. I have black satin sheets, and I could envision her gorgeous body sprawled out them. I was wearing a pair of silk boxers, nothing else.

When Danielle entered the room, she literally took my breath away. She was wearing a sheer white negligee, that showed a hint of her body through the lace. She was wearing matching lacy panties underneath. She looked like a bride on her wedding night, and that thought really tweaked my head. Her waist-length auburn hair shone in the candlelight.

"You are so beautiful, Danni, so beautiful."

She smiled and wrapped her arms around my neck. She had some pale pink gloss on her lips, and it tasted delicious. I learned later that it was called "Brandied Apple." Until then, I didn't know they made gloss in flavors. Our lips and our tongues worked gently, slowly, letting the passion build until we were breathless.

I kissed across her cheek to nibble on an earlobe, and I was assaulted by her scent. She had dabbed a bit of rose essence behind her ears, low on her throat, and a lot of other places I would discover when I moved lower on her body.

I slid one strap over her shoulder and tugged it down, exposing one breast. I kissed all around it, then centered on the nipple, laving it with my tongue until it hardened, nipped it gently with my teeth and, finally, sucked it into my mouth. Her hand wrapped around my cock, through my shorts. Silk on flesh is amazing.

When I pulled off the other strap, the negligee pooled at her feet. Her high, firm breasts rose and fell with her heavy breathing. She had dabbed some rose essence in the valley between them and along the curve on the undersides. I let my mouth follow my nose. 

I pulled some of long hair over her shoulders, letting it fall over her breasts. One of my great fetishes is looking at a woman's breasts through a curtain of hair. I caressed them with her soft curls in my hands. Pulling her back into me, we kissed some more; hard, crushing each others' lips. My hands slid down her back, then grasped her round ass cheeks, and massaged them thoroughly.

Dropping to my knees, I put my thumbs under the slender fabric on her thong and pulled it off. She had dabbed the rose scent on the top of her mound, and on the outsides of both of her puffy lips. The rose, mixed with the scent of sex flowing from her cunt, drove me crazy with lust.

Guiding her toward the bed, I gently laid her down. As I had imagined, her taught teenaged body looked exquisite on the black sheets. She looked at me with her deep green eyes, a sensual smile on her face.

I dipped into the drawer of my bedside table and pulled out a pair of "love gloves." They're a pair of mittens that a friend made for me out of an old mink coat.

As Danielle lay sprawled out on my bed, I began to stroke her whole body with the soft fur. This is a sensation that everybody should experience. She was cooing with pleasure as I ran the gloves over her belly, up over her breasts, down to her mound, and back again. Her nipples stood up at full attention.

When I moved the fur up her legs, she pulled her knees up, and spread them apart, giving me full access to her pussy. I went up one thigh, across her mons, and down the other, each time dipping a little lower toward her swollen lips. 

She reached down and spread herself open, and I dipped the mitten deep into her treasures. I teased, tickled, and tormented her with the blond mink. 

When I thought she had been teased enough, I dropped my mouth down to her cunt. I plunged my tongue into her vagina, then pulled it out, ran it over her clit, and plunged it back in again. Her hips rose up to meet my mouth and her whole body shuddered.

"I'm coming, Jack, coming, coming....OH GOD....NOW....OOOO! Oh God, Jack, I'm ready...so ready....put your cock in me, Jack....fuck me....fuck me, please, fuck me..."

"Hold your pussy open for me, baby girl...wide open..."

She held herself open, and I ran my cock back and forth up her slit, pausing and rubbing it over her clit. I eased the tip of my head between her lips, and pushed slowly. When I got my whole crown inside her, her vagina spasmed around me, and she gasped.

"Ohh, it's big, Jack. It feels so big in me." 

"Are you okay?"

"Yes...yes...just go slow."

I pushed another inch in side her. She was so hot and so wet. I could feel her vagina stretch to accommodate me. Another inch. Then another one. Before long I was balls deep, and I felt like I was being gripped by a wet velvet fist.

"So big, Jack, so big. You fill me up...fill me up. Oh, feels so good...so good. I'm a whole woman, now..."

I pulled back and went in again slowly. And again. And again. We began to establish a rhythm, and her hips rose to meet my thrusts. After we had been going at it for awhile, I rolled over on my back and, still inside her, pulled her on top of me. 

She scooted up on her knees and began to fuck me, cowboy style. I loved watching her breasts bob up and down as she moved. Her long auburn hair with the corkscrew curls on the ends, made a tent around my head.

I buried my hands in her ass cheeks and pulled her toward me, rocking back and forth. Her smooth pussy, wet with her juices, slid across my smooth pubis, that she had shaved for me. The head of her clitoris had poked way out from under its hood and was shiny and wet when it rubbed against me. 

Then she started to gasp. She sat straight up, arching her back.

"Oh God, Jack, what's happening to meeeee....OH GOD....OH FUCK...AHHH..."

She'd just had her first vaginal orgasm. Her inner muscles contracted, squeezing me, milking me, until I shot my whole wad of cum deep into her cunt, shouting her name as I came.

She stretched out on top of me for the longest time. Her head rested on my chest, and I stroked her back until she quieted down and her breathing returned to normal. She kissed me gently, sweetly.

"I want to sleep here with you tonight, Jack."

"I'd like that a lot, sweet thing." She's never slept anywhere else, since that night. It's not my bed, it's our bed.

She cradled her self beside me, spoon-style, and I pulled the covers over us. Sometime in the middle of the night, I woke to find that Danielle had reached behind me and was fondling my penis. It was hard and throbbing.

I reached over her thigh, and found her pussy was soaking wet. Lifting her upper leg, I slipped my cock into her creamy tight vagina and buried myself to the hilt. I love to fuck from the rear; I love to feel her soft round cheeks pressing into my groin.

Half asleep we fucked slowly, gently. I reached around and massaged her clit. She murmured something I couldn't understand, but kept making little pleasure groans deep in her throat, every time I pumped myself into her.

We both came, but it was quiet and gentle. Her cunt contracted around my cock again, and held me there. We drifted back to sleep. When I woke in the morning, my cock was still inside her, and I started to slowly fuck her again.

We spent a weekend of absolute bliss. Now that Danielle had lost her virginity, she was insatiable. I felt like a horny teenager again, and I could get erection after erection, which both surprised and delightedly me.

Danni really got off on fucking in the shower. All slippery and slidy, she braced her arms against the wall, and I entered her from the rear again. Another time, she wrapped her legs around me and, still standing, we fucked each other face to face. We did it outside, on the deck, in the sunshine.




Danielle



We went back to the nude beach. Our sun block application got really amorous. Normally, I'd be embarrassed to be in a public place with a hard-on, but this time, I didn't care.

"Fuck me, Jack."

"Right here?"

"Yeah."

"People will see us."

"So what?" I think she was becoming an exhibitionist.

She laid back on the beach towel, drew her knees up, and spread her pussy wide open. My cock throbbed just looking at her beautiful flower, and I quickly fell upon her, entering her hard and deep. She wrapped her legs around my back and we fucked each other, fast and hard. 

"OH GOD....JESUS...SHITFUCK....AHHH," she shouted.

"YES, YES, YES....OOOOO...ahhh...mmmmm," I shouted.

The group of people who surrounded us burst into applause. My face was red, and not from sunburn. Danielle just had a shit-eating grin on her face.

A few nights later, we were making out--God, I love kissing her sweet mouth--on the couch, and the phone rang.

"Hi, Jack." I'd recognize that voice anywhere.

"Hi, Nicole."

"How are you doing with my little girl?"

"Uh, she's not so little anymore, Nic."

"I know. She emailed me a pretty graphic description of your last weekend."

"Uh oh. How do you feel about that?"

"First of all, I'm a little jealous. But Danielle is ecstatic, and I'm happy for her."

"I'm glad you feel that way."

"She's in love with you, Jack." 

"I guessed as much."

"This isn't what I'd planned."

"I know."

"My question is, how do you feel about her?"

"This is crazy, Nic; I'm twenty-four years older than she is, but I've never loved anybody this much since I fell in love with you. I treasure her. She's beautiful, she's intelligent, she's very talented, and I am totally besotted."

"Don't hurt her, Jack."

"I could never hurt her. She might break my heart someday and decide she wants a younger guy, but I promise you, I'll never hurt her."

"She's talking about going to UCLA, so she can live with you. She wants to major in drama and theater arts."

"I can get her into the Lee Strasberg Theatre and Film Institute, here in L.A. It' the best in the world." I rattled off the names of some famous alumni, including Paul Newman, Al Pacino, Marilyn Monroe, Jane Fonda, James Dean, Dustin Hoffman, Eli Wallach, Eva Marie Saint, Robert DeNiro, Jill Clayburgh, Jack Nicholson, and Steve McQueen.

"God, that would be wonderful. How does Danni feel about that?"

"I haven't sprung it on her yet. I was going to talk to her about it tonight." I'll do that if we can ever get our tongues out of each other's mouths long enough to have a conversation, I thought to myself. But I didn't say that to her mother.

"Do you love her enough to marry her, Jack?"

"I'd marry her tomorrow, if it were just up to me, but I want to see how she feels a year or two from now." 

Right now I'm happier than a pig in shit.

We'll see what tomorrow brings.



Danielle



This story is a bit longer than the norm, I wanted the buildup to be good enough, and in the end, the story felt like it couldn't work in split chapters. Of course, there is sex in this story. I'd like to thank LadyVer for editing this. Any errors left are my fault.

***

"Hey, neighbor," he said, flashing the small smirk that was only his, his voice neutral.

I wanted to hate Dante. I truly did. But how did I respond? "Heyyy!" I happily answered, before I could contain myself. I unlocked the door to my apartment and went inside, hearing him lock his door. The serious, hot guy happened to be the neighbor in the apartment across from mine, which made things worse.

Truth be told, I did hate many things about him—his smile, his unreadable, light brown eyes, and just the way he was himself. It was impossible to decipher who he actually was. His eyes were intense, inquisitive brown shields that studied everyone around him in a standoffish way. He never smiled more than necessary, and when he did, it was perfectly controlled, almost staged. Whenever he looked at me, I froze for a fraction of a second, like a deer in the headlights. He was roughly six feet, tall enough for my tastes, and his dark hair was always perfectly styled. He worked out often and it showed; he was somewhat slim, and more than well-defined.

I'd seen him go through a few one-night stands. It was always the same. I'd be trying to sleep, and I would hear a woman moan, scream, go quiet, and then eventually leave. From my kitchen window, I could see who exited his apartment and do the walk of shame, looking anything but ashamed.

Dante had been eyeing me of late with something that made me more uncomfortable. Not a raunchy expression, but worse. Lust contained by civility. And civil, lusty people reminded me of my friend Lorelai who had been bitching about guys being terrible in bed and how she just wanted to get laid properly once. So I added two plus two. I knew Dante went out to the store every day around six p.m., as if he couldn't plan his grocery list properly. And L—Lorelai—loved to jog and work out. So I told her where to jog and about a cute guy she should talk to. They'd end up in a relationship, or something, and I wouldn't be tempted by him.

My plan succeeded. Kinda...

I heard Lorelai scream the very same night. What I hadn't expected was the curiosity. Not jealousy. Just curiosity. What did he do? How did his body look? He knew how to dress, so I had a good idea of how firm he was. But still, curiosity, you know?

A day later, Lorelai was all over me with details. "I mean, his back tattoo is so hot, and, and..." She went on and on in her insecure, stuttering way about how cute he was and how he let her leave without feeling used.

Even if that was exactly what had happened. Strange.

It went on for a few months. Every time L had this need, she'd go jog and end up unabashedly yelling, then go back to her usual quiet self, and then rave all about it at work, telling me all the gory details.

And I listened.

Yet, after a few months, Dante's attention had only been temporarily diverted. He'd have Lorelai and one or two random women, but whenever a few days had gone by without his getting any action—and sometimes even if he had just had sex—if we happened too see each other, he'd still look at me intensely. Almost hungrily. I knew I still had more to do.

Jason's text woke me up. Jason, the guy who happened to be my boyfriend. "Up 4 sumthin 2nite?"

My plans for L would have to wait.

It was early afternoon, so I didn't have to rush. I planned to wear something based on Mad Men's Joan Harris. Something that hugged my hips and sent attention to my chest, without looking tacky; sexy, but not too revealing. I prefer styles that hint at something. Know how to use cleavage and clothing designs and you can manipulate men a bit more than they're willing to admit.

I texted back. "Can't wait!"

It was somewhat of a lie. Jason had been a bit worse than before, distant—sometimes just enough to make me feel something was lacking in our relationship. When he went out with his friends, he viewed me as an asset, rather than a girlfriend. But I couldn't leave him just yet. I'd been in the relationship just long enough that I'd forgotten the feelings of inadequacy and worthlessness from the last break-up. I had to make this one work. If people stayed married until death, why wouldn't I make this one work? It should be easy enough.

The nagging sensation was still there when Jason arrived. My heart didn't leap like it used to; it didn't even beat a little faster. And he had that expression. The one when there's something on his mind that someone suggested to him and he's about to try out whatever that is. I hated that. It meant he'd been out with his friends. And that one feeling I had, for sure, was not jealousy. It's that his friends were always trying to convince him that he could do better than me, that he should do this in bed... And just like that, he'd think it was a good idea. His idea. More than once he'd tried to break up with me because his friends had thought it a good idea. I made him see this every single time.

"Baldy!" I exclaimed, trying to be happy for him, so we could be happy. I'd started calling him Baldy ever since he'd said that his nickname should also have a last name. The nick-last-name took over his nickname eventually.

He kissed me and went straight to foreplay. No 'How's your day been?' Nothing. Well...

I tried to get in the mood. After a few minutes of kissing, he simply disrobed.

You see, Jason isn't big. He's huge. Unfortunately, he thinks that whenever a woman sees a huge penis, she'll just go nuts and be all porn star over it. Sex with him was slightly disappointing for the same reason. Not that I didn't get to orgasm. I usually did. But every time it was the same thing. He reached really deep and every now and then he'd hit all the right spots, dazzling me, but then it'd be gone. He was just showing off how long it was, rather than trying to make me cum with skill. Jason could have been an absolute sex god, but he was too much in love with his own equipment. I'd been trying to make him realize it, to no avail. I hoped that it was about to change, little by little, starting right then.

"Who's your favorite star?" he asked between kisses.

"Huh?"

"Celebrity. Today, just imagine I'm—I don't know—Brad Pitt or something. Do whatever you'd do to him."

I think he was already picturing me as someone else. "I don't have crushes on stars," I told him, slightly put off. And I was honest; I didn't engage in imagined relationships with famous people who didn't even know I existed.

"Come on," Jason urged, impatient to get to the action. "I remember you said that Ryan Gosling or Benedict Cumbersomething was cute."

Sure, they were cute, but they were... foreign to my world. "I don't—"

Jason wasn't letting up. "You must have one. Just picture him, and do something. I even bought this," he said, that glint in his eye.

I was almost turned off. I knew it hadn't been his idea. He was already putting his finger in me thinking about someone else. What he'd bought was a navy blue dildo. He always made sure the dildos were smaller than him, which wasn't difficult. He had his measurements to a T; he constantly bragged that he was ten inches and five-eighths (really, five-eighths). I suspected he measured himself daily.

Sure, we'd been together for a long time and things weren't as before, but listening to his friends' comments wasn't a good idea. At all.

It wasn't a good idea because I listened that particular time, too. Of all the men out there, one popped up in my mind. Dante. Every time Dante came near me, my skin tingled in anticipation and with a rush that was wrong. Men were tempting, but I didn't like this guy, because unlike anyone else, there was the danger that, maybe, I could fall for him. I was glad there were a pair of doors between him and me at the time. I shuddered.

"Yeah, that's it, babe." Jason smiled with cockiness. I could see my neighbor's face over Jason's, a smirk that was almost smug. I was going to wipe the stupid smile out of him. What I didn't expect was a finger going inside me. I moaned out loud, surprising even myself.

As we progressed in our foreplay, Jason grew more impatient, but seemed surprised I had moaned a few times already.

Then, from the other side of the wall, a different female moan cried out, almost a scream. Lorelai. Wasn't she supposed to end things with Dante?

Jason chuckled, saying we were inspiring others. I wished he hadn't said that because I'd been getting into it, starting to picture myself in the place of my friend in the other apartment, watching Dante undress and do whatever he did to all the women that made them leave dreamy-eyed.

Jason showed me the navy blue dildo and asked me what its name was.

I muttered something, which he didn't catch.

"Andy? Like Andy García, the Godfather guy?"

"Yeah," I lied, with a rush of guilt. I had said 'ND.' Sure, it sounded like Andy, but it actually stood for Navy (Blue) Dante.

"Let's see how much we can do with 'Andy' and me here," Jason said with barely contained speed.

It's ND and me, not I, I thought, my brain automatically correcting him. Working in an environment like mine made you obsessive over small details.

I stopped moaning and heard L getting some serious action as Jason went to the nightstand for his favorite XXL condom brand of the month. It's not like it mattered. We didn't need them. He wanted to show off, as always, how he needed the big ones.

We had sex like a whirlwind. Quick, intense, and messy.

When it was over, the guilt of imagining another guy, even if my boyfriend had prompted it, rushed over me. I discarded all thoughts about my neighbor and smiled at my boyfriend.

Jason looked at me with love, which was good, but it hurt at the same time. He loved me when we had sex, and he was nice to me for a little while afterwards, but the moment he stepped out and the world interacted with him—even more so, if he went out with the boys—he'd go back to the distant, almost uncaring man he'd been transforming into.

I cherished the moments we were sharing, hoping to make them last.

***

I couldn't have Dante interfering with my life, so I had an idea.

I'd been including a friend at school, a young redhead called Trish, in our social group. Since I had grown up in exclusive circles and Trish's parents owned a considerably big bank account, it wasn't hard for her to click with the rest. Superficial, but that's how it works sometimes.

Lorelai wanted Hunter and was determined to get him, not Dante, so I had to maneuver another woman into her place. I didn't want to become the focus of Dante's attentions. Besides, Trish wanted sex, and I was sure Dante would deliver. I advised Trish to fake a flat tire.

***

The stupid fridge stopped working.

The repairman had more pressing matters and wouldn't be over for another day. I was thinking of taking food to Mrs. Kim, the nice Korean lady one floor above, but then, I considered a different alternative. Harp music had been coming from Dante's apartment. For a while I had thought he had a few classical harp songs, but then I heard a mistake, a pause, and a resume. My neighbor played the harp. I'd always associated the instrument to longhaired women. Now, I didn't know what to make of him, as usual. I imagined, for a second, Dante with long hair and a flowing, long dress playing the harp near a lake. The thought prompted me to snort.

I breathed slowly. Then I strolled to his door and rang the bell.

The music continued and then stopped after almost half a minute—when I lost my resolve and turned back to my apartment. Silence, then footsteps, and my stupid pulse raced. The traitor.

Dante opened the door, looking guarded, his hair almost covering his eyes.

"Hey, neighbor!" I called out to him, as cheerfully as I could to hide my nervousness.

"Hello," he said in a tone that was dry... and not.

Confusing. I felt studied and maybe lusted after. I even took a small step back. "My fridge decided to die on me. Would you mind storing just one or two things for me? They're supposed to come in tomorrow to fix it."

"Sure. I have a lot of space available, actually." His smooth voice was distracting.

"Really? Thank you!" I headed for my door as quick as I could.

I gathered the perishables, hesitating before grabbing all the milk, and returned to his apartment. Neat, orderly, clean smelling, and I didn't see where he kept his harp. He had a workout thing mounted on the door that he removed as I organized the food. I pulled the milk out finally.

"Can't live without milk," I said, not looking at him, knowing that bringing four gallons was maybe too much. "Let's see how many I can fit in here, without it being a bother."

"If they fit, just leave them there. I really don't store that many things here. And see that artichoke dip? It's new. It's yours."

I almost choked. I had mentioned that I would've been interested in trying the artichoke dip and he'd remembered! "Wow, thank you!"

Before I could help myself, I hopped happily and gave him a quick hug, my body tingling with the rush you feel when you touch someone with whom you share that chemistry.

Then I felt it. Against my belly. I felt him. He was hard, and I didn't know what to say.

Somehow, I quickly regained my composure and stuffed the last three of the gallons into the refrigerator. To divert attention, I remembered something. "So, L was talking about you today at work."

"Elle?" Damn him, he was even cute when he looked thoughtful. Then again, that's probably why he hadn't had a girlfriend in the years that we'd been neighbors. Use a woman, discard her, get another one without much of a struggle. I didn't like him as much right then.

"Well, not 'Elle' as in the name, but more like the letter 'L.' That's what we call Lorelai."

"Ah. Well... Lorelai?"

Play dumb with me, why not. "Yes, blond, sporty... She doesn't look like the kind of woman that would go straight to business, to me. And I guess you have also talked, right?"

"Oh, well, we do talk—"

"That's what I think, anyway. L works in the same high school I do. I'm HR. She's PR."

"I see. I hope that it wasn't anything bad." Bad? The woman was always talking wonders of you.

"Yup! I don't mean to judge, but why play dirty?"

"Do what?"

"Well... you did quite the number on her yesterday," so stop playing dumb, "but... she's about to have a boyfriend, you know? Why would you do that?"

"She what?" Dante actually looked alarmed. Weird.

"Yesterday, she met you outside the store, right? She went all, 'I... I'm telling Dante I've got a date. The relationship's almost official.'" I even mimicked Lorelai for him and he smiled, to my delight. "But! Just like that!"—snapping fingers for extra effect—"you convinced her of... of not behaving so well. I could tell."

I don't know why, but I was still curious. Was he hard because of me? I looked down to his crotch before I could stop myself, and obviously, he noticed.

"Wait a second. She never mentioned a boyfriend."

"Is that right?" I closed the distance between us, narrowing my eyes, playfully putting his credibility to the test.

Then, he looked down to my chest, as if getting back at me for checking him out. He did it in a non-lecherous way and— Why did it turn me on? I don't know. But he continued.

"I don't do that kind of thing. I wouldn't like to be cheated on, so I don't help others cheat."

Riiight. Go with that story to others. I don't know how dumb he thought I was because no guy ever cared enough about that when it was him doing the cheating.

Once again, I tried to get upset with him but couldn't. Something was between us. I hated it. And I liked it.

I didn't move back. I was breathing harder. I tried looking somewhere else. Between his legs was where my eyes ended up, of all places, and I think he got even harder. The silence was so deep that I heard it. Somebody was singing...

"Dante! Is that Japanese music?"

"I listen to everything. Turkish, Arab, Japanese, Korean. I like variety."

A supposed citizen of the world, huh... But I couldn't help it. It was intriguing. So I wanted to one-up him.

I let him know. "I speak Japanese."

Of all things, he said, "Honma?"

A shiver ran down my spine and I actually laughed because he used that accent that was rough but polite within Japan. "Subarashii! Kansai ben? Demo, hai, hontou ni. Ojiisan wa Nihonjin desuyo."

"Nande yanen!" Dante playfully slapped my shoulder, as required by the phrase. I wanted him to touch me more, but I had to be smart.

"Really! I mean, I might not show it, but I'm one-quarter Japanese. Grandpa refuses to speak to me in English— Refused." Gendou, my grandpa, had passed away a few months ago. It still hurt. "How come you speak it, and of all, with the Kansai accent?"

"I spent a while in Kyoto and Osaka—"

Accusingly, my phone rang and interrupted him. Jason, of course. My guilt meter's indicator rose a few degrees, even if I hadn't been doing anything wrong with Dante.

"Baldy!" I answered giddily. I lifted a finger, asking for a minute.

Jason wanted to take me out to dinner. He was still feeling connected to me after last night's sex, which meant he hadn't bragged about his success to his friends yet; otherwise, he'd have different ideas. I ended the conversation with my boyfriend, feeling happy that it was going better.

"Anyway, I'm off to eat something before Jason picks me up." I ended our interaction, leaving the attractive but smug man to think about whatever was going through his mind. I picked up a milk gallon.

Dante stopped me. "Wait, aren't you going to leave that here? Take a glass."

"Meh, I'll just drink it all." I saw how he looked at me when I said that. I didn't know how to interpret it, his expression having gone back to unreadable.

"Hey... Well, if you'd like, you can wait here for him."

"Thank you, but I have to get into something decent, you know?" I had to get ready. "Thank you! Byeee!"

I closed the door and went out for dinner.

Dinner was... sigh-worthy. Nothing nice, nothing too memorable. I felt the relationship slipping out of my hands again. It was like a tug of war between his friends and me to see who could persuade Jason enough, since his personality was too swayable.

We were at Mallorca, a needlessly expensive Spanish restaurant. I couldn't help feeling like a trophy wife in training. The display of wealth was a bit much, even for me.

In the end, Jason kissed my cheek, and I felt a bit giddy, and then troubled. My emotions came and went unpredictably. Maybe Angelica was right when she talked about my unstable moods.

***

"And he has th'thing that y'love, I swear, that... V- thing on th'waist." Trish couldn't just shut up.

"Apollo's belt," I told her. After all, it was my favorite part of a man's body. I had even researched its name. I had encouraged them all to talk a lot about Dante, what he did and everything. I wanted to keep a reservoir of women willing to sleep with him so he would stay away from me. Also, maybe I wanted to know what he was up to. Maybe. But still, Trish was giving me TMI for the time being.

"That! And, God! When he..." Trish kept on babbling. But eventually the conversation ended. It was GPA award day and we all had to be at school, looking sharp.

I didn't feel like going, I wasn't in a great mood, but it was my duty as part of the college staff. I'd already changed into more formal attire that still accentuated my curves, but not too much. It wouldn't be nice to give the college boys the wrong idea.




Danielle



I was playing piano, an instrumental version of Zedd's "Clarity," to clear my mind. You know, just play, play, play until the world stops making sense and doesn't matter anymore. Or, stranger even, the world will make sense completely. My Bechstein upright piano was probably my most treasured possession. It had been my grandmother's, and I had been the only one of her grandchildren who wanted to learn how to play it. Actual ivory on the keys. A strong, beautiful reverberation could be created in its—

The phone rang.

Mr. Repairman couldn't make it. I had to ask Dante if he didn't mind if I was stealing his fridge space. A few extra days, well, it wouldn't be nice if I simply assumed I could do that. I went over. He opened the door and... something was different with him.

"Heyyy!" I called out. He didn't smell like sex, but it was as if he oozed some powerful, distracting sexuality.

"Hey." Dante wasn't that happy that day.

"The technician needs some part that I didn't understand, and it'll take a day or two to get it fixed! I really hope you don't mind!"

"Not at all. Don't worry."

I went for the fridge. I noticed no olfactory evidence whatsoever. "Well, it doesn't smell like sex. What kind of deodorant spray do you use for this place?"

"Excuse me?" As expected, that caught Dante off guard. I noticed a subtle change in his tone, even if his expression didn't change much. I'd begun to learn how to read him.

"Yeah, I mean, it's not like it was a secret thing and all," I told him. I was on to him, even if he didn't suspect it at all.

"I didn't see Jason's car parked yesterday." Wait, he knows where I was?

"Ah. Well, maybe it... Well, I wasn't here."

"Then how did you...? You know Trish!"

"She's a student," I admitted. "I get along with her very well." I got to hear how wonderful you were, again, but this time, with Trish, it was as if she wanted to make me jealous.

"You set me up!"

"You poor, poor soul had to endure having sex with a 19-year-old." Come on, Dante, a guy complaining about sex? Let's get real.

"She's 19!?"

"Perfectly legal. And she's a good friend. After L going out of the market but giving us the details, Trish called dibs."

Maybe I had pushed her into it, made her more curious by making L talk about Dante, but in the end, it worked out.

"But it just happened—"

"Who do you think texted her when to stand on that street with a 'flat tire'? Dante, you go out every single day to that store to buy something!"

"Couldn't she just have come over and said, 'Hey! I'm your Lorelai replacement. Let's do this'?"

"And feel like a slut?" I went to get a milk gallon, but found no glasses. "Can I use a glass?"

"Certainly." Dante got one and handed it to me, barely nodding at my "thanks," but suddenly, an unreadable expression crossed his face and he looked at me... Intensely.

He quickly extended his arm. Ohmigod, he's going to kiss me! I gasped.

He touched my hair, and then caressed my neck. And I did nothing to stop him. I couldn't even think. The way his arm touched my neck sent shivers down my spine. The nice kind, the wrong kind. I was expecting him to do something, but he didn't, so there was something else going on... I studied him. Kiss me? It's not a stupid, torrid romance novel where the bad guy does what he wants, Danielle, get a hold on yourself.

"Had something on your hair."

"Thank you." I relaxed, even if I didn't entirely believe it, and smiled. He took a step back.

"No problem. Why so fancy?"

"The school is giving awards to the highest GPAs and we're all supposed to attend. It's later today and"—It hit me, the oddity about him—"wasn't your hair different?"

"I darken it." Now I had a mental image of a blond Dante. Weird.

"Oh. Wow. Well, you pull it off very well. I would never have guessed."

"Let's not publish this. People seldom take hair dyes on a guy in a positive way."

"Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me." I actually didn't plan to tell Trish or L. It was so strange, actually knowing about him. It felt only natural to touch his shoulder in a friendly way.

I lied to myself, saying that the touch didn't make me feel something, so I went to his living room and sat on his couch. "Actually, I have to go to a salon to get my hair done for the event, so I'm bailing in a few minutes." I drank from my glass of milk. "But I have a question!"

He nodded.

"You play harp, I think? I've heard it."

He silently nodded yet again, as if speaking was some kind of thing that should be reserved for special occasions. It didn't bug me this time.

"And you speak Japanese. By any chance, do you know any TVXQ songs?"

"Obviously "Doushite," since it has harp. Also, "Begin," "Love in the Ice," and "Proud.""

I didn't know Dante's exact age, but I was guessing he was slightly older than me, and he knew that band... Encouraging him, I said, "You should learn "Bolero"! But those are very nice."

My phone, hero of all interruptions, did its work. I read a text, from Trish.

"OMG, I need 2 see him again!"

I snorted. She'd been quite impressed with him. It was like the seventh "OMG" text from her.

"Well, whatever you did to Trish, she's texting OMGs yet again. I'd better go. Hair needs to be done! And I suspect you'll be 'entertaining' a guest very soon." I used air quotes before getting up and going for my hair appointment.

The GPA thing was incredibly unremarkable. Which was good. I had had a long day and I was ready to go to sleep. Maybe Trish would be done once I got there.

I drove my car, the one I had bought with my money, instead of accepting Dad's offer to buy me a luxury sedan. It felt good, knowing that my family had money, but that I was making it without relying on it.

As I walked up the stairs, I heard soft moans. So, maybe I had gotten there on time. I was about to hear the whole show and...

Dante's door was open.

I couldn't help it. I stopped and just stared at my gorgeous, naked neighbor.

Moaning like her life depended on it, Trish was bent over. I had to admit that both of them had very good bodies. Trish's legs were tight and showed the beauty of youth. A tall work of art, but that's all I could see of her.

Seeing Dante nude was something that would creep into my mind and I'd remember forever. How his abs worked as he gave it to Trish from behind. His arms and pecs weren't huge, but they were defined and just right. His butt was firm from what I could glimpse. I saw it contracting as it worked, his hips moving back and forth. Finally, I saw his Apollo's belt. Trish hadn't lied. It was so sexy that I wanted to lick it.

Then, he turned around and saw me. He growled with need, and my body responded. His expression was feral with lust. I almost expected him to pull out of Trish, walk over, and do all those wonderful things to me. I'm really good at reading people, and this time I didn't need to use my talent to know that he was considering it. If his body was too tempting, the authoritative aura he had when having sex was too much. I was getting wet and couldn't move.

Dante touched Trish with tenderness. In complete control, his hips moved even faster than before.

I forgot how to breathe. His eyes shone with lust in the dim light, and he was ravishing my redheaded friend but looking straight into my eyes. I knew what was going through his mind. He took Trish by the hips, moving forcefully. Normally, I describe sex as such, sex, but this kind was more than that...

Trish moaned louder, and then Dante trailed his hands around her back and then to her hips again. Dante wasn't "having sex" with Trish. He was giving her the fucking of a lifetime.

He bared his teeth at me with need, and I thought I was going to collapse right there, asking him to take me. His movements became more controlled and elongated. I could see his hardness, glistening with a condom, going in and out.

My mouth opened slightly, involuntarily. He was showing off for me, and it worked. I was terribly envious of Trish, how he did it, how he made her tremble... I hadn't experienced that kind of sex. And now I wanted it.

"Do you like that?" Dante growled at me. I nodded quickly. I thought he would want me to join them, and I prayed he didn't say it because I didn't know how I'd react. OK, maybe that was a lie. I knew how I'd react and that would only end up in disaster.

"Yes! God, yes!" Trish screamed, thinking Dante had asked her.

Her voice snapped me back to reality. I had to leave. Right then. My body finally responded, and I fumbled with the keys as I tried to open my door.

"I'll fuck you harder than you've ever imagined," he promised. I knew that, regardless of what Trish thought, the warning was directed at me, and I believed every word. I knew I had to stay out of his reach.

As I closed the door, I heard a spank and a scream of pleasure. I was so wet I was amazed.

I went straight to my room and pulled out ND. I needed no foreplay. I got down on all fours and emulated Trish, shuddering silently as images of my insanely hot, naked neighbor flooded my mind, giving me one of the best orgasms I'd in ages. I pictured him again, and I saw the intention in his eyes, a "I'm going to make you mine. And you're going to love it."

I needed more.

I texted Jason for a quickie.

***

"I mean, and his back tattoo, oh Gawd," Lorelai raved in my living room.

"Like a warrior thing, n'shit," Trish completed the phrase, her eyes alight. Her impressive New York accent made it a bit funny. "Like, the wave."

I knew by now that Dante had a tattoo of a stormy sea with a huge wave on his back. I hadn't seen it since Dante had been mostly facing me when I'd seen him shirtless, but by now I had been told about every inch of how it looked. I listened avidly to every detail, how he moved his hips, how he did this, how he ordered them around...

I wanted every detail. If I was never going to have him do that to me, I needed to know. Curiosity, only.

"He had to leave because he's got a meeting with some friends. They call themselves 'Th'Last Unlikely Gentlemen,'" Trish said, snorting at the name, but amending with, "I mean, he is a gentleman in a very strange way. He's never been rude and stuff. Just not warm, y'know..."

Dante wasn't warming up to Trish. Well, he had fucked her while looking at me. I hoped I could get Trish out of it before she felt something for him, and find her replacement. I started studying my options. Clarissa, Janet, Summer, Angelica...

***

The group in which Angelica's father had a seat on its board had opened a luxurious mall recently, and I'd been invited to a mall crawl with her and a few of a somewhat newer crew. I invited Jason. At first, he reluctantly accepted, but when he knew he wouldn't be the only guy around, he was a bit more encouraged. After all, Hunter was his kind of guy for a buddy.

What I didn't expect was to find Dante with them. I quickly eyed the group and found Trish, which made everything make sense. Dante was silently looking at Trish. Suddenly, he went on with an analysis that was unexpected.

"See, I like the overall way the chosen fabric's texture works with the neckline and how it clings to your shoulders. However, the cutting pattern near the waist will make you look like you gained weight." His voice was smooth and controlled, as always. Clarissa gasped first, and the rest followed her example. Undeterred, my neighbor continued talking to Trish. "Even if we all know that it isn't true. I know you're in very good shape. Clarissa is right. The color doesn't suit you entirely. That is simply because it's one that would flatter a summer girl, but your season is warm spring instead of simply spring, since you tan. Instead, I'd suggest the rust-colored one that you tried before."

Even I had to admit I was impressed.

I studied the women's reactions. Clarissa was obviously into Dante, and this fashion sense had just turned him into a suitable candidate for her, yet Clarissa was easy to influence and impress. I didn't know if that would be a good idea. She'd be infatuated in a second and either forget him the next, or go all the way from there to an obsession. On the other hand, Angelica's eyes glinted almost imperceptibly. There was some interest, buried below layers of her complex personality. And yet, of all my friends, she was the smartest. I had to play my cards right. If the Trish thing failed, I'd try to get Angelica and Dante together.

The cocky guy smirked at the silence in response to his fashion statements.

"You are so getting laid, helping a girl look good," I said to Dante, and his back tensed. I didn't get any ideas. He usually acted that way around me. But I knew better. Guys try to keep an act up when trying to get something, and he was trying to get me, so... too bad. I was on to him.

The women asked him for other ideas on how to buy colors that suited them, and I got to see their reactions to my neighbor.

As the minutes went by, I was more convinced I had to steer Dante into Angelica's path somehow. But at the moment, the lust in Trish's eyes was obvious. Whatever he did to them, he did it right.

While Dante was talking to Janet about a pair of jeans, Trish pulled me aside and told me her plan. To have sex with Dante in one of the dressing rooms. That was... a bit much for me. But she asked for my help, so I accepted. After all, if I was going to switch Dante's partner, I could give her the pleasure of a quick thing before we changed it.

Trish went over to the dressing rooms. I went over to the group, touching his hand and pretending that I didn't want to touch more of him. When I touched him, I had the distinct impression that he wanted the same thing out of me. Just a day or two later and I was getting better at reading him.

"Dante, can you help us, please? It'll only take a few minutes."

He followed me. Every time I approached a mirror, I stealthily checked him out and saw him staring at me, hungrily. Not only at my butt, but all of me. I wondered if he actually found me sexy. I mean, I wasn't ugly and didn't have a terrible body, but modern beauty standards aim for half-starved girls. I had curves. I know I would've been a total sex symbol back in the 50s, but in today's environment, my kind of body wasn't that sought after—as Jason often reminded me. When I remembered my boyfriend asking me to slim down a bit, the thought hurt. Instead of taking my gorgeous neighbor straight to the dressing rooms, I led him around, more than necessary, feeling sexy with a guy like Dante ogling me the way he was. Eventually I led him to the dressing rooms.

When I saw the young woman in charge of the area, it was my turn to act. I took a shirt and asked, "Hey, I saw this one I liked, but I don't know if you have it in teal...?"

I kept on talking to her, but I couldn't shake off what my imagination was doing. How was Dante fucking Trish back there? Was he rough? Gentle? Would he bite, or caress? Hey, girl, focus! We're only curious, remember? Trish will give us the play-by-play, anyway.

Eventually,Trish emerged with an expression that I would've thought overdone if I didn't know her. She looked as if she were on cloud nine. I had to get her out of the Dante deal before it was too late, before she fell in love with him. And I still had to give him time to leave without being seen by the workers at the store.

Pretending to make up my mind, I grabbed a piece of clothing. "I'm going to try this one, then, OK?" I stepped into the changing room and looked at Dante as if we were both part of a conspiracy. "This is the second time I help you guys."

The smell of sex was overpowering. If there was a scent for sin, this was it, the one enveloping my neighbor.

"Thank you. Are you going to try those on? I can wait here." Did he actually say that?

"You, sir, are incorrigible. You just got some..."

But I couldn't deny that it sent shivers down my spine, the really good kind. Looking at him, I decided to test him. Supposedly, Dante was the perfect gentleman, and I hadn't felt sexy in a good while. My hands took the hem of my blouse and I started to reveal my body slowly, inch by inch. I heard myself and was surprised. I was breathing heavily, but Dante was almost like a wolf in heat. This kind of game between him and me was getting to be good, if a little out of control. His hand shot out to grab my wrist.

I stopped breathing, thinking, moving.

"Don't," he said.

I swallowed with some difficulty, and I realized that even if he had just had an orgasm, he was hard again. In shock, I didn't know what to do. I looked into his eyes. He was so difficult to understand and read, maybe because I started feeling lust, making things worse. That didn't mean I couldn't control myself. I was about to tell him to calm down when he bolted from the room.

I pretended to try something on, waited, inhaled the smell of Dante, and exited the dressing room, telling the woman it wasn't exactly what I was looking for. Just in case, I decided to keep a healthy distance from Dante who was in the midst of a conversation but seemed uncomfortable with something.

I gave him a way out of the situation. "Jason is out there talking to Hunter. Seems they're talking about the game. You want to join them?"

"Uh—no. I couldn't care less about sports. I do, however, have to check with the creative team if we're all set for tomorrow's presentation."

"Are y'leaving?" Trish pouted.

"I have to."

"But you're not seeing me for two weeks!" My, isn't Trish clingy now...

"It's work..."

Dante made his escape, and I went back to Hunter and Jason who were talking about the upcoming playoffs. I tried to be interested in the conversation. I remembered what Angelica had told me. When she had said it, it had hurt, but her words were etched into my mind and it had driven me to become a better person, even if the changes had been slow:

You say others can be clingy, but you haven't taken a look at yourself. You're doing something, anything, and you'll drop it whenever you get a call from Jason. You're in the middle of a heart-to-heart with one of us, you'll get a 'let's fuck' text from him, and you'll just race out. You're having some coffee with people at work, you get an 'I'm hungry' call from him, and you'll drop everything to please him, and he does nothing for you. Last boyfriend, same thing. You should be able to be without a relationship to get into one that actually works.

And, of course, it hurt because it was the truth. I let Jason and Hunter talk and I walked away, for a coffee thing that had just begun to sell a new blend of flavors. I was getting the feeling for some me-time when the phone chimed.

"Let's go."

I almost bolted after the text, but I stayed put. Let him call me. I at least deserve to be told that we need to leave in a polite way. Being asked if there's anything I needed, would be even better. I waited a bit longer.

The phone rang. I smiled.

***

I had been home for a few hours and it was... weird.

Dante hadn't gone out for groceries. His motorcycle was outside, which meant he was home, but there were no grunting efforts, typical of his workouts, no squealing girls, not even his harp. It was worrying. My neighbor wasn't noisy, but he wasn't stealthy either. I rang his door bell.

No answer.

I tried the door. Unlocked.

The utter silence, and the fact that I was going to see Dante, reminded me of Dante's Inferno and the Gate's inscription: This way a good soul never passes, abandon all hope, ye who enter here. A bit too ominous and dramatic, but hey, the mind works in strange ways.




Danielle



"Hey, neighbor?" I asked as I went in. Nothing.

I walked around the apartment. Even inside his apartment, there weren't many clues about who he was. And I wasn't looking for them right then. I kept on searching. I tried the door that had to be the bedroom, judging by my apartment's arrangement of rooms.

Dante was on his bed, looking up at the ceiling. He looked at me. He looked sad, and in a fairly inexpressive guy, it didn't mean anything good.

"Yes?"

"It's awfully quiet. I can normally hear what you're doing." Oh, great, let him know you listen to him. "You've been here, but it's been too quiet. The walls are thin and it's— Are you OK?"

As a side note, my treacherous brain couldn't help adding that he looked gorgeous even when sad, and I stared at him. Maybe the fact that he wasn't wearing anything from the waist up didn't help and I ogled a bit at the same time.

Dante silently rose from his bed, shirtless, wearing some very comfortable pants. Suddenly, he walked up and hugged me.

I froze.

His warm chest and firm body registered after I sensed the inner conflict going on within him. I closed my eyes and focused on him. Something was wrong, but not with him,. Cautiously, I lifted my arms and hugged him back. It was something special.

Even I felt relieved after the hug.

I didn't know how long we hugged. It was just... It felt right. When it ended, it wasn't awkward. I looked at him and asked him if he was alright, because he obviously wasn't. But I was giving him the chance to say something in case he needed to get it all out, and didn't want to feel imposing.

"No, not really." Still a man of few words.

"Can I help you?"

Dante looked at me hungrily again. I thought him capable of doing things to me that they only write in the dirtiest books, but instead of approaching me, he just smiled sadly and said, "You can't help me how I need it."

I don't know how sex can help when you're sad. Maybe he could pour the frustration out in the activity. Maybe it allows you to forget what's happened. For a second, I wanted to help him. Not for the sex, but... I had never seen Dante look vulnerable, and that's how he seemed right then. The sex would be an amazing bonus. Woman! Let's keep it together.

I did know someone who could and would help him, however. "Trish leaves tomorrow morning. I'm going to call her."

"Thank you." He extended his hand and touched my cheek with such a delicate, disarming movement. He touched me as if I were made of glass. The need to stay away from such behavior kicked in, but I didn't see any risk and simply treasured the rare moment when my neighbor opened up, even if barely so.

I looked into his eyes a moment before dialing Trish's number and going to my apartment.

I had to get Angelica lined up, fast. Trish was probably going to suffer when Dante didn't stay with her, but he wasn't looking at her as girlfriend material and she was going to end up hurt. She'd have to learn and grow from this.

Even if it was a bit late, I decided to go out and simply enjoy some time by myself. It had been reassuring of late being alone for a little, showing myself that I didn't need a boyfriend to have a good time, but rather, a boyfriend was the perfect person to share a good time with. It wasn't easy, but I had to do it. Jason and I had to succeed, and we still had a chance. Maybe my neighbor was becoming more tempting because I didn't have to deal with his dark side. All people have one. I had just seen Dante favorable side so far.

Taking my cell phone, I went to a coffee shop that opened up late and picked up a book that had been recommended to me by a teacher that I got along with. Hubbard's "Fear."

***

"I think I'm going on th'pill, you know? At this rate, we'll be spending fortunes in condoms!" Trish was positively giddy on her way to the airport, telling me every detail after she had visited Dante, how she even tried to get him to have sex with her bareback.

Stupid. It was going to hurt her. Not the sex, of course, but I knew that if she kept having a relationship with Dante, it wouldn't end well. Just one time and that'd be it, no more Dante for Trish. For her own good.

However, the the light went out. I sighed in frustration.

I had dialed half of Jason's number when I said, "I can do this."

I pulled out the ladder and tried to reach the light.

OK, maybe not.

The damned thing was too high for me to reach. Besides, it was a light bulb, so what are neighbors for? Even more so if they're cute, right?

I knocked on Dante's door, instead of ringing the doorbell.

"It's unlocked. Come in," a low voice answered, not as smooth as his usual tone. The tone went straight to a special place and I felt tingles between my legs. Stop that! Grow up, Danielle.

I opened the door and nothing would've prepared me for what was awaiting me.

In full hunk mode, my neighbor was sitting on his couch looking at me with lust and showing off his body, his confidence that I found normally repulsive now very, very alluring in his particular state of undress. Down to his underwear. It took me a while to find my voice. "Uh... Dante?"

"Danielle. Oh, wow. Hmmm. Well, this is unnecessarily awkward."

My pulse raced, and then I noticed how flustered he was. Expecting someone, already a few hours after Trish leaves the city? The guy doesn't waste time.

He quickly grabbed a cushion and covered his hip area, but I had seen him already. He was hard and breathing heavily. No, wait, it was me who was breathing heavily. Well, yeah, I don't get hot guys dropping down my lap when they're wearing underwear only, not in an average day.

Finally, my brain responded. "I'd better return later."

"No, no, it's OK. What's up?" Dante responded, with such lust that I choked my answer for a second.

"A light went out in my apartment. I have a ladder I bought on sale a few months ago. It has, I believe, five steps. So they had a bunch of ladders for sale, but there was only one that I could fit in my car and"—Stop rambling like an idiot. Get a grip!—"anyway, the thing is, I tried to replace the light, but I can't reach it. I'm too short."

"I'll do it," he said, immediately standing up and walking towards me, his Apollo's belt looking incredibly edible.

I silently cursed, my eyes wider.

Dante caught himself. "Right. Give me one second, and I'll be there."

It was my turn to bolt.

Minutes later, Dante was thoughtfully looking at the light that didn't work, wearing jeans and a tank top. "Can you hand me the new bulb? Thanks."

He started working on the light when he almost lost his balance on the ladder. I didn't think; I grabbed his legs from the side to keep him upright, my face buried near his knees. Once it was obvious he wasn't in danger anymore, a very, very naughty thought entered my mind. His knees weren't that far from my face. How about his—

Dante looked at me and returned to working on the light. "Got good reflexes for a clumsy girl," he said, unscrewing something.

I was about to retaliate when electricity flowed between us—strong, hard, instantaneous. I screamed, confused and alarmed. "What was that?"

"Sorry, I cannot control my effect on women."

It was such a lame line that I couldn't help looking at him, to let him know what I thought about his clever response. But it had been funny. Once there was no voltage flowing from the light bulb down to us, that is. I giggled a bit, and Dante told me that there was an exposed wire.

"Now, this is just waiting to happen again. I would recommend getting an actual electrician that knows what he's doing because circuits and stuff are nothing short of sorcery to me," he said as he folded the ladder, then stood next to me.

Of course, it was up to me to say the dumb thing. "Thank you! I owe you. If you need anything, let me know!"

Dante looked into my eyes, and I felt a tingle of excitement and desire. His thoughts were clear to me for a second. Should I just say it aloud? You never know, she just might say yes... I saw it in him. He wanted me to simply get rid of my clothes so he could—

"Don't mention it," was what he said instead. Right. We both know it's a lie, but let's play along. Or not, actually. Let's see how far we can take this game.

I moved forward and touched his chest, and it was a too much for me. My eyes half closed. I had the idea of tugging his tank top, just getting rid of all his stupid clothes and—

"Y'look hawt," a voice said behind me using a blatant East Coast accent. "Tank top and jeans..."

"Trish! Are you all right?" What the hell? Wasn't she supposed to be in New York by now? And did she see what I just did?

"Yeah, flight got totally delayed. I leave tomorrow." Trish looked at me, no hint of suspicion in her eyes, and then signaled my neighbor with her eyes. "And I thought maybe Dante wanted to kill some time and feel better after whatever happened."

"Oooh, I bet you're playing chess! Can I watch?" I said mockingly, but when I mentioned watching, Dante looked at me like a predator, and worse, I flushed, my cheeks burning.

"Sorry, I'm about to go without this"—Trish patted the button of Dante's jeans—"for almost two weeks. I'm not sharing... today."

Ok, this is a bit too much. My eyes went wide. Dante's too.

Before I could make things worse, Trish took him by the hand and pulled him towards his apartment with a smirk on her face. I had seen Trish. It was too late,. All the signs were there. She was in love with Dante. It didn't take a Nobel laureate to figure this out. Well, shit.

When they were gone, I wondered what was happening between Dante and me. I remember what my grandfather used to say. To us, he only spoke in Japanese so nobody but his kin would understand. And when we were alone, he once told me that I could see people. At first I thought it was dumb, but after a few years, he was right. It was the Japanese way. People will eventually learn their lesson; time teaches and unfolds the simple instructions. One doesn't tell the student everything. The student needs to grow, learn, and eventually find the truth when the time is right. I remember the day I actually understood. I saw people, and then I saw people. Their desires, their troubles, their hopes, and eventually, their secrets. I didn't know what the clues were; maybe their faces, perhaps how they talked... I even thought once it could be something not entirely natural. I didn't care; I just knew and that was enough.

My thoughts went back to Dante. This was a game that was turning dangerous. Willpower isn't a perfectly measurable trait. One of these days Dante might just snap and not stop. And I didn't think I would be able to make myself stop him.

ND was going to have a rough night.

***

I had undeniable proof.

After Jason undressed, the barely noticeable whiff of sex permeated the air, and he had gone to bed without trying to do anything, saying he was a bit drunk, but that he'd compensate for it in the morning.

I don't know why guys don't get it. It's harder for women to be immediately horny in the morning. Men just wake up and want to get it on, unlike us. Or unlike me, at least.

My sense of smell is keen, and Jason smelled like another woman. I felt humiliated rather than sad and angry, and well, my pride demanded that I didn't make a big deal about it. I wasn't about to let the world know I had been cheated on, ever. Maybe it was the first time, Jason's friends had managed to convince him, finally, to do anything he wanted, because he had money, and there were women willing to do anything for some of it.

When morning came, I faked being sick for the first time. I had always hated women who faked illness to avoid sex since I had thought that you could always talk it out. But cheating on me? Things were getting beyond the point of simply talking it out. I needed to think. I felt proud of myself for not crumbling down. My world hadn't collapsed, but it didn't mean it didn't hurt. The thing was, I had seen a few of my friends go through this and somehow make it work. The 'once a cheater, always a cheater' thing apparently wasn't true for all. A tiny minority could stop themselves, it seemed.

After my "I'm not feeling too well" scene, Jason got upset, as if his getting laid was my obligation as a girlfriend, which made things bad, but not as much as what happened next. I assumed he'd go all out for me, asking if I needed anything or if he could get me something from the grocery store. You know—care, right? At least out of guilt after fucking some random girl.

"I guess it's better if I leave you to rest," he said as he got dressed. I could not believe this guy. He left.

Since Angelica was fending off an issue with her brother, Trish was out of the city, and I didn't trust L enough with this kind of thing, I was thinking about talking to Summer, but I needed a one-to-one while talking about this. Unfortuantely, Summer was out of town, too, due to the holidays.

I decided to talk to Dante, and not play at anything. Just talk.

As I neared his door, I heard a woman moaning and a guy bossing someone around. It sounded recorded, but I doubted Dante played porn with such a high volume. Yet, I heard quick steps and grunts, which meant that he was probably working out?

Just in case, I rang.

The footsteps sounded closer, and he opened the door. This time his torso was covered. Kinda. The shirt clung to him from sweat, so I could still see his shape.

"I'm so not going to knock on the door again," I said, my attempt at joking lame.

Dante showed me in. "I can't blame you."

He was breathing heavy because of the workout. For the first time, I understood the appeal of sweaty men when they look like they've been working out. In real life it's not usually the same as in the movies, but the feral expression in his eyes, and then how he softened up when he looked at my troubled face... Still, no point in being rude.

"Oh! Sorry! You're busy, I'll—"

"Nonsense. Tell me," his voice was still commanding, even when being polite.

"No, no, no. I'd better go—"

"Danielle, I insist."

It took us a while to reach a compromise. He'd work out and I'd talk to him. I needed to say things. I wasn't going to reveal the cheating, but still, all the things that had been happening lately were too much.

I just started blabbering.

He grunted every now and then, acknowledging a comment or remark I made. Even if it was only me doing the talking, I felt listened to. And yet, when he was doing push-ups, I noticed his shoulders working, how a few muscles were more noticeable with the effort, and I shuddered. Thankfully, he didn't see me ogling him like a school girl.

I talked about work, about Jason being distant, about my dad offering me money to pay for my things in a way that made me feel as if what I earned was just the product of a hobby instead of an actual job. Everything, although Jason was mentioned, too often. "...but it's not the same, you know? All those things, they're not like before. There's something missing. I feel like our hearts aren't into it, you know? I feel he's getting distant, and I don't do enough to keep him close."

Dante was on a doorframe bar thingie doing pull-ups, and still he answered instead of grunting. "Why don't you try to rakeendl the fire with new activities?" he asked, more or less between grunts of exertion.

"Don't what?"

"Rukindle?" Oh.

"It's ree-kin-dle, not ruh-kin-dle..."

"Eh, ESL moment." Whoa. Whoa. What?

"Really? What's your first language?" I had to know. That explained why I found his voice entrancing. He enunciated things in a slightly exotic manner. I had never been able to put my finger on it, but Dante had an accent, and it wasn't from an area of the States or an English-speaking country. The guy became a bit hotter on my scale. He was getting dangerously near the "no guy has the right to be this hot" level, damn him.

"That comes later. Look, Danielle, I recently read that going out on a date"—he badly tried to change the subject and paused to gasp—"with other couples makes you closer to your significant other."

That advice was too honest and actually sounded helpful, rather than "Hey, forget about him, let's have sex," which was what I would've expected from any other guy. (And just maybe, somewhere deep inside, I'd hoped to hear him to say it). Fortunately, that part of me was properly buried. I'd expected him to give me a reason to hate him like I wanted him to. Instead, he had just become more intriguing, and helpful. I didn't understand this man. The English as a second language thing could wait. Maybe there was hope for Jason and me if I started using new strategies.

"For real? I think that's awesome!" I was excited about the possibility. "I'm so doing that ASAP!"

Dante stopped to stretch out, and looked hotter. Still, my intentions were pure when I happily hugged him to say, "Thank you!"

He hugged me back, warm and strong, and mumbled something I didn't understand.

I looked up, and he moved at the same time. It was an accident, but that didn't prevent me from unwittingly brushing my lips against his neck.

Immediately, he pressed me roughly against his body. From nonexistence, the sexual tension in the room skyrocketed. My knees trembled and my breathing weakened. Somehow, that tiny, short exchange had me all worked up. Then, Dante let me go as if I had just stung him.

I smiled at him. I had known, but he hadn't shown it enough for him to be aware of me knowing it: he did find me attractive! Still, he refrained from hitting on me or actually trying to seduce me because I had a boyfriend. Honorable. Which also meant I could get to push his buttons to see how much he could withstand. In a predatory mood, I looked at him sultrily and said, "Don't think I'm forgetting the ESL slip, Dante."

His name tasted delicious on the tip of my tongue. How about having on the tip of your tongue his— Whoa, woman! You. Dinner. Boyfriend. Now.

Dante suddenly remembered that he was stretching after his workout and went back to it. But he wasn't off the hook just yet.

"I'll let you know how it goes," I said, mentioning the dinner. I exited his apartment hearing him softly cursing under his breath. I smirked. The sense of empowerment of feeling attractive.

***

Trish didn't have to know that I was setting Angelica and Dante up, but she'd been raving about him too much for her own good, too much when it was evident that Dante only wanted to have fun with her. So I had to use Angelica somehow. If I used Clarissa, the Asian girl was too easy to impress, and it would all come down to a fight between the girls that would be worthy of a soap opera. But how...? The double-date thing!

I called Angelica.

"Heyyy!"

"Hello, Danielle." Her tone was standoffish as usual. If you knew her, you could detect when it was actually for real or when she had a soft spot for you. She liked me as much as I liked her. Hint: a lot. We'd grown up in a society where females weren't so different from stocks in the market: you had a certain value depending on your looks, intelligence, mood, charisma, and youth. We both hated it,. We were two smart females in a difficult environment where money wasn't a concern, but that didn't make it necessarily easier. Reputation was often the true currency.

"Angelica!" I sounded too happy compared to her, but she was always straight to the point. Somewhat like Dante. "I had this suggestion about going on a double date, so I'm off to Lamyong, and I'd like for you to come with me."




Danielle



"Sure, let me call John," she said. John was her nonexistent boyfriend that we had created out of boredom one day. She was really straightforward and scared men off, but she did it in a way that I think was on purpose, much to her father's chagrin.

"I already have your date ready. Don't worry."

"Please, don't you dare bring Tosh," she said, meaning a friend of ours who looked like the comic Tosh. A few of the women had already tried to set them up, but Angelica hated his guts.

"Don't worry, I have a different one. You'll like this hottie."

"Hottie, now, huh?"

"Be skeptical. You'll know I'm right when you see him. Just remember to thank me later!"

"Whatever. Eight at Lamyong? I'm there."

After hanging up, I scrolled down to Dante's contact. I had gotten his number from Trish, and texted him.

"Busy tonight?"

"Wrong number?" Who are you? Not the talkative type, I can see. I remembered the dialogues from the videogame. Having younger older brothers who were into gaming rubs off on a girl. I smirked, and got a thrill thinking that maybe I could make him internally fidgety, using texts. Internally because Dante didn't actually fidget.

"Danielle here. Trish gave me your #" Oh, right, actually tell him what this is about. I texted him again.

"My friend's date canceled; we're going to the double date and we bed a handsome man." Going to the double date and bed him? I would only be so lucky, Auto Correct. Whoa. Where the hell did that thought come from? Focus, Danielle, focus!

"We NEED a handsome man. Stupid auto correction. Can Jason and I count on you?"

"Sure. Where and when?" As friendly as ever, I see. Me, mentally quoting the same videogame.

"8 at Lamyong."

"Fancy. See you there."

I called Jason and confirmed the dinner at the Thai restaurant.

My plan was simple. Get Jason in one of his good moods where he becomes talkative and open, cautiously approach the cheating subject, and get this over with. Either we're together, or we're not. But not if he isn't in a good mood; otherwise, it's going to be a whole bunch of drama, and he's not going to think about what he says and either lie to me or end things.

***

Jason took forever to pick me up after he'd insisted on picking me up, and we were late. By roughly 8:05, we were at the restaurant. Five minutes late is still late, and I'd been ready for ages before he came over. I'd worn this green dress that was similar to the one of Mad Men's Joan character. Since I was curvy, Christina Hendricks was a role model for me in fashion, just as Dita Von Teese. I'd even gone to the stylist to get my hair done up like Joan in a particular episode. What does he do when he sees me?

"Huh. Hey, babe. You ready?"

Men can be frustrating some times, but that was the last straw. When we got in the car, I couldn't hold back.

"I know what happened the last time you went out, Jason."

"What are you talking about, babe?" He was actually trying to fool me. The guy was severely mistaken if he thought he could outsmart me.

"I even know who she is," I lied, and with my tone, there was no point in arguing. He wouldn't call me on my bluff though. Instead, he took the worst possible route.

"We were in a rut. Things weren't happening... I didn't want to pressure you..." He was babbling and blaming me for his straying?

"It's my fault now?"

"No, no, I mean, she just threw herself at me, and... well, I..." Jason went silent, running out of arguments.

"If you ever, ever think about doing anything like that again"—I hated to pull rank on anyone, but I was mad, and his family was still way below mine socially and financially—"we'll start hearing about how reliable you are, and just wonder if it's all worth it."

I was referring to his newest enterprise. His father had invested a pretty penny on Jason's hair growth technology, and they were searching for more people to shell out money. One word to my dad (the only guy I could actually trust to tell about my boyfriend cheating on me), and he'd find a way. They were about to present the project to a few investors all over town, then call others all over the country. An angry father will go to great lengths. I was being childish, but I was beyond mad by then.

"I... OK, babe," he said, faking repentance, which stung. His friends had probably told him he was entitled to sex and now I had to go against that, too. Some women use sex as a prize, as if it's their prerogative to dictate when the man is worthy of having sex. That's wrong. It should just... happen. It should be natural, and it shouldn't be the woman's obligation. Ever. Sex shouldn't be controlled; it should be lived. The conversation had died by then.

Angelica was waiting for us in her car. When she saw Jason's sports car arrive, she got out and waved with her usual expression. My boyfriend's expression got worse. Angelica was a tough woman to deal with. I doubted he knew who her date was going to be. When he saw Dante waiting for us, he probably imagined what could happen during the double date. Either it could be be a disaster, or both of them would end up having sex on the table since both were very intense people.

As it turned out, I was right. Angelica's father, Teo Grigoriu, had given her the base of her genetic configuration, but Elena, the Hawaiian/British woman who happened to be her mother, made Angelica look just amazing. Her short, pixy cut definitely favored her looks, but the reaction of Angelica and Dante each realizing who their date was was just priceless. Both of them were caught completely off guard. Good. Angelica looked at me, warning me. I smiled and we went on to have dinner.

Angelica had been on fire during dinner. Her mother was so old-fashioned and truly a pain with those who happened to serve or cater to her, and a good amount of that behavior had rubbed off on Angelica. I think Dante's eyebrow twitched when she said that she didn't have anything against poor people. "In fact, I even dated a poor guy once! Of course, he and I ended up breaking up, because what kind of future could he offer?"

She then rambled about people who worked in the mall and made one or two offensive comments. Jason finally got into the hang of it and simply watched the reactions. Unlike me, however, he wasn't enjoying it. Between Dante and Angelica, it was as if a gladiator had been thrown to the lions. Who was the lion and who was the gladiator was about to be determined.

Her second strike came a few minutes later with, "...and if one of my sons turns out to be gay, well, I'd take him to a brothel until he gets rid of that."

Even Dante had to figure that Angelica, regardless of her opinions, was smart, so he couldn't just start subtly insulting her. She'd notice it right away. I pretended to be distressed by the comment and asked him not to say anything. She was going to say something anyway in a matter of minutes. When Jason asked for sauces and the girl came in with a new set, she smiled at us. A ring on her finger glistened in the light. She was engaged. Well, that should spark something. Angelica was an expert on rings, diamonds, and engagements.

"I hope she checked the value on that ring. I mean, it looked too big for a good diamond, and she needs to know what she's wearing. Her fiancé at least should have saved the equivalent of three paychecks to pay for an engagement ring. Of course, it depends a lot on the income."

"Hah, you tell me how much a ring should cost? I tell you how many decibels the door must give off when it slams right behind your ass," Dante said, firing back before I could gauge what she'd said.

I stopped eating, staring at him in disbelief. Jason was truly troubled. By his expression, he was probably hoping for the Men in Black to come in and wipe everybody's memory. Angelica had her mouth open in shock. I simply sat back and enjoyed the fireworks.

"Excuse me?"

"I mean, the gay comment, too—trying to un-gay your kid by making him have sex with girls is as logical as trying to slap him until his eyes turn from brown to green."

"So, a guy wearing an ascot is trying to teach me something?"

"Congratulations on knowing what an ascot is. Now, Angelica, I was just being frank. I mean, you're one of the prettiest women I've seen..." And here it comes.

"You are knowledgeable in many subjects. You know how to dress, and your fashion sense is impeccable. Since you're all this, I'm sure that you've had one hell of an upbringing with opportunities denied to most... But has anyone ever told you to just keep looking pretty and simply shut up?" Damn.

Angelica exhaled as if she had been punched by one of those huge boxers that weigh half a ton.

"I'm going to the ladies room," she said, standing up. "I expect you to either be gone when I return, or to offer an apology and an explanation."

Angelica disappeared temporarily. Not a slap, no wine thrown at Dante's face, no dismissive, hateful comment. Not the reaction I was expecting.

"Well, I'll be damned, man," Jason said, eyeing Dante with worry and wonder as if he were a new species of human that had developed laser claws. "Just don't pull that with random women from her circle."

I couldn't hide my amusement anymore, but he deserved a warning, "Dante, Angelica is not a girl that will accept anyone telling her what to do. Just save yourself some time and go with the flow."

"She is a girl," he said, "and needs to be told what is what in life."

"Twenty-five, not a girl. You'll get nowhere."

"Would you be willing to bet on that?" Dante flashed a smirk that went straight to a happy place between my legs.

"Sure thing. What do you want to bet?"

His eyes twinkled and the tingle he had started with the smirk became some dampness. I even gulped. You and me, right now, in the men's room, just to see how loud I can make you scream. It was as if I could hear him.

I crossed my legs, uncrossed them, then crossed them one more time, the sensation between them a dangerously pleasant one.

But he just said, "Nothing, just the pleasure of your admitting that I was right."

"And if you lose?"

"Dinner's on me." I knew it was probably a bit out of his budget. The Thai place did know how to charge for their food. To pay for all of us showed that he was that sure.

"Deal." I hadn't finished saying that when Angelica returned.

Angelica sat down and looked at Dante. "I take it Danielle calmed you down."

"You take it wrongly, Angelica."

And so, the gladiator and the lion started their showdown. Dante sparred with science and logic, Angelica with logic and beliefs. They were both good at debating. They were never loud, but they were firm. They tried cornering the other with carefully worded sentences and arguments. It was somehow beautiful to watch them try to undo the other. And when they began talking about a certain economic custom, Angelica went for the magic words.

"...because God said so, why else?"

"So we're bringing God up now, huh?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," I said, intervening. I waved my hand like the guy in boxing matches, trying to separate the boxers. "Back down. No religion discussed here."

Jason was mortified. A few patrons were looking at Angelica and Dante, mostly disapproving, but still eagerly watching the drama unfold.

Our meal was done, and my neighbor asked for the check. He was looking thoughtful, as if weighing his options on something.

Angelica went for Dante's throat as soon as the waitress went to get the bill. "Where do you think you gain authority, anyway?"

"I read from scientific magazines to big books on theological philosophy. Who do you want me to quote?"

"I could quote a few sources, too. What makes you think yours are better? What could you do to make me think you're right?"

Dante didn't say a thing. He just used this smoldering gaze, full of sinful and delightful promises that would've melted any female. Hell, it sent shivers down my spine and it hadn't been directed at me. I could only imagine what Angelica was thinking. She pretty quickly understood what he meant and blanched, to Dante's satisfaction.

The bill was presented. Since no one had effectively won—Dante hadn't made Angelica submit even after a few meaningful glances—everyone paid for their own dinner and we declared the bet void with quick glances, not letting Angelica know.

We all left the restaurant and said quick goodbyes in the parking lot. Jason did his best to make it as painless as possible; he'd been through enough that night. He and I got into the car. I sensed there was no more fight in him for the time being, but it didn't escape my notice that Angelica didn't start her own car. She was staring at something and thinking hard. We left the parking lot and drove to my apartment.

I got out of the car outside my apartment after a curt "good night" to Jason and was heading for the building entrance when a text arrived. Jason.

"I'll win you back, babe. You'll see."

I hoped he would. Or could.

My dreams were interrupted by rhythmic thumping against my wall—which normally didn't wake me up. Although I didn't hear any moans or screams, I knew what was happening. The harshness and bluntness of the sounds gave away the fact that some intense sex was going on in Dante's apartment. How did he manage? I had no idea, but my plan had worked to my delight. And some envy. But it was better that way.

The next morning I texted Angelica.

"Was he as good as Trish claims? ;)"

I immediately called Lorelai. She answered before the third ring.

"Khaleesi, how are you?" Lorelai worked at college like me and was so much into books that she sent tons of them my way. Daenerys from Game of Thrones was called Khaleesi—her rank—and L somehow had made some mental connections about my name being somewhat similar, which ended up in my getting that nickname. I had already been called that by someone else at the office more than once.

"Hey, you will not believe what just happened! Dante keeps on moving around..." It wasn't the best thing to do, but I needed Dante's name spread around to make him something that was far from boyfriend material for Trish. Sure, he was tempting, but I didn't want him in my life sneaking up on me somehow. I was sure that Trish would be told by L, so I didn't need to say this around that much. It was a matter of how.

"What, is Summer now all over him?"

"Better than that"—my phone let me know there was an incoming call from Angelica—"and all you need to do is be very quiet while I make this a three-way call."

I hit the necessary commands on the phone, and Angelica joined the conversation.

"How did you know?" Angelica was puzzled. I could only imagine L's surprise with that one.

"Oh, come on, you were destroying the bed against my wall, and you thought I wouldn't notice?"

"Oh."

"You didn't answer my question. Was he good?" I needed her to say something absolutely damning here.

"I'll admit I was wrong and you were right. Happy? He's... actually nice, somehow." Angelica wasn't complying.

"What do you mean?"

"I actually got to talk to him about personal things, and he listened."

"Oh, um... Wow. That's... nice. But he doesn't look like that kind of guy." I had to maneuver this conversation a bit more. I wanted something utterly incriminating. "Did you have to go all Amazon woman on him and make him say 'yes ma'am' to everything?"

"Actually, he made me— You know what? I'm not going to share such things. They're my business."

"Did he pull your hair? He's good at that kind of thing," Lorelai said, letting her presence be known.

"You didn't!" Angelica gasped at me, maybe slightly mad.

"Hey, Trish got to spill the goods, L too, and then you think you don't get to share at least a bit?"

The conversation went on about how he growled and other tiny details that got me interested, but the main purpose was fulfilled. Trish would hear about Dante and Angelica, and she'd have to get over it. I would have a chance to have Dante controlled by someone else. Hopefully.

Jason showed up later with lots of flowers and invited me to dinner. He loved to go out to eat. He looked truly into the whole date thing, and it was heartwarming to see him actually fighting for me. We ended up in an Indian restaurant, one of the first places we ever went to. He'd been looking happy as he drove and as we talked over the food. A feeling of warmth started spreading over me at his thoughtfulness and kindness. If I could keep him doing that... I touched his hand over the table when he got the call.

"Brian, my man! How are ya?"

Of course. Drinks with his friends. The call hadn't ended, yet when Jason became more distant, I sighed. Was it all worth it? I think he was dating me for the same reason I was dating him. We both loved being in a relationship, more than the person in the relationship. The sudden realization felt like hitting a wall. Was it fair what we were doing to each other? We were clinging to it because the possibility of being alone was terrifying, and yet, wasn't it worse to be with someone who isn't there anymore?

Dinner went from promising to certified forgetfulness-worthy material.

Later that night, I was idly clicking on random things, when an update from Brian arrived. He'd been taking pictures with his cell phone of the most random things. As always, they were drunk. And a random girl was being very, very friendly with Jason. I mean, there was no proof of him being unfaithful, but it was pretty damn compromising.

Danielle didn't do the whole psycho girlfriend. I wasn't actively looking for him on the pictures, nor was I about to start stalking his online life. I didn't even get angry. It wasn't worth it. My course of action in the end was sending him a text asking him to have fun responsibly and not drink too much.

I went to sleep and ignored the incoming calls.

***

When the paper arrived, all those things I would've thought a prank or anything else went out of my mind. I was impressed. I thanked Morgan, the girl from Admissions, and stared at the form for a few minutes. Smiling, I called Angelica to congratulate her. After that, I went to my apartment and simply thought about things for a while. I had to thank Dante.

Friday morning I was woken up by a knock on the door. A poor teenager was huffing outside my door, looking at me expectantly. He asked me to sign the form to confirm that I had received the delivery: a huge stuffed bear holding a huge heart with a huge from/to card around its neck. Huge was the only way I could describe it. I read the card.

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes...

I stopped reading.

I know Lord Byron when I read him. I would've loved a poem that Jason had written, something that spoke from his heart. Flawed in metric and rhyme as it might have been, it wouldn't have mattered because it would have been him speaking to me. Creating for my sake.

The huge bear spoke a lot about the situation, too. Money wasn't an issue. And yet, he'd had someone else deliver it. I would've appreciated it if he had brought it personally, to know that he had gone through if only a bit of effort, instead of getting a poem by somebody else and someone else to bring the gift. Jason was trying, that was true, but I wasn't fifteen anymore. I sighed. Was I being too complicated? Instead of being that picky, I thought about maybe trying to set things right. I couldn't expect him to read my mind.




Danielle



"Hey, babe," he said when he answered my phone call.

"Heyyy, Baldy! How thoughtful of you! The bear is huuuge!" I said, which lead to his boasting about finding the biggest bear he could. Then I went for it. I had to try. "How about we just sit back and watch some movies later on tonight?"

"Aw, babe, I'd love to, but the guys are going to this club and I already said yes..."

"Come on, we never watch movies anymore," I pouted, not only because he wouldn't be there, but also because his going out with them would be a disaster.

But Jason wouldn't budge. I thanked him for the bear—which I didn't know where to put because of its size—and hung up, crestfallen.

Hours later, unfortunately, a drunken Jason texted random shit about loving me... then something about why I ate that much at the Indian restaurant.

Anyway, I had places to go, and I still needed to thank Dante about Angelica. Selecting one of my favorite coats and a handmade designer scarf, to look formal enough for the day's activities, I went over and rang the bell. Never was I going to knock again and catch him like that time with Trish.

He opened the door wearing some thin clothing that hugged his body. His hair was dripping wet and longer than usual, but it kind of reminded me of Kim Jaejoong's look on "Mine." Dante could look even hotter with slightly longer hair. I mean, he looked as if he'd stepped out of a pre-teen magazine, the typical actor or singer that would've been the current heartthrob.

"Hey! Dante, you could rock the long-hair look." I mean, he has to know, right? I waved the copy of the form that I'd been handed. "Do you know what this is?"

"Uh... a paper."

"Impressive. I mean, read the name!"

"Angelica Faris?"

"Angelica just applied for an MBA," I said, defying what her dad had always wanted and following her own dreams. Suspiciously, right after she spent a night with Dante and she claimed to have had an important conversation.

"That's nice."

"Apparently, you had something to do with it," I told him, gauging his reaction. Yes, he had done it. The guy was nicer that I would've suspected. "Thank you."

I hugged him tightly, no suspect intentions or any lascivious thoughts behind the gesture. However, I'd forgotten that my coat had a humongous belt buckle. I firmly pressed myself against him, the buckle hitting him right between his legs. I didn't notice it until he groaned, doubling over and looking miserable. I felt clumsy, not in the way it's supposed to be adorable from the book's heroine.

"Ohmigod! I am SO sorry!"

I mean, what do you do when you hit a guy there? You can't kiss it better! Well, you could... Stop that, Danielle! I could only apologize over and over. He whispered something. I saw his couch.While I wouldn't soothingly pat his groin to make it all better, I do give some mean back rubs. Maybe that could count for something. I pulled him towards it and bossed him around a bit.

"OK, lean back against this," I told him, showing him the armrest so he could sit upright and have his back exposed to me. I don't know what possessed me, but I started talking again. Of course, I wouldn't say anything about the cheating, and I had to make things seem brighter, after all.

"Jason and I came back and it was all great, right after dinner with you. Even with the Angelica/Dante showdown. He even brought flowers the next day." I was massaging his shoulders, possibly appreciating the powerful feeling of his muscles rather than massaging him properly, but he was relaxing enough. "But then, he went out with his friends again. And that's the issue. Every time he goes out with them, he comes back with this attitude I hate.

"And I know them, because they're supposed to be my friends, too. Angelica's too, also..." I wasn't even paying attention anymore. I kept on pressing where I felt tension. Dante relaxed enough that his head was resting against my chest, and since it didn't feel like he was doing it to feel me up, I let him. I sighed before continuing with my ranting. "I know what they're saying behind my back. That he could do better because he has money. They want him to get a disposable skinny bitch, just like most of them have."

I continued working on his shoulders, realizing that maybe I had exuded hate when I said the "skinny bitches" part. He grunted while I kept on massaging and rambling on.

"And it's always like that. I work to make our relationship run smoothly. He does his part. It all goes well... then he sees his friends, and we're back to square one. He sees me with love, then later, he sees me like I'm not pretty enough. Or like I'm fat. I mean, I'm eating something, and he looks at me like I'm pigging out. And I know the look. I've known him long enough.

"They're asking him to go out with them more often. I know what that's for. They want him to meet someone else, for 'fun.' And I do know that women throw themselves at him because it's obvious that he has money, but isn't a relationship supposed to be more than that?"

At some point, I'd stopped massaging him. Instead, I just touched him, feeling his body heat. It reminded me of things that I wanted, that I'd always wanted. I touched my neighbor's dreamy body as I kept on talking.

"I want him to look at me like a woman, you know? Not like 'ah, there you are, again', but— I don't know. I want to be looked at with awe, with desire, because I've been looked at with those before, and I..."

Something felt right while I was talking and my hands had been traveling down. I felt his chest muscles, then the ridges of his abdominal muscles, and I had been pressing harder, devouring his body with my fingertips, getting aroused by only touching Dante. Which made me gaze at him. That's when I stopped. The look in his eyes was burning. He was looking at me with the look I had described before, with something extra that reminded me of the time I had watched BBC's Sherlock, when Irene Adler talks to Holmes:

IRENE: I would have you right here on this desk until you begged for mercy twice.

SHERLOCK: I've never begged for mercy in my life.

IRENE: Twice.

Only, he was Irene, and I didn't think I would've begged for mercy for my own enjoyment. The look we were sharing intensified. I moved forward automatically, going for his lips. My eyes roamed all over his gorgeous face, then his body. He was hard. That got me back from my reverie. "Anyway, I— Well, thanks for listening. I'm sorry I blabbered. I'm sorry I hit you. I— See you later, Dante!"

I didn't simply get out of there. I escaped that apartment as if I'd been in the middle of a war and the closest safe area had been my room. I almost slammed the door to my apartment in my hurry to get ND out in record time. Minutes later, I found myself whimpering my neighbor's name as I came.

***

"We aren't talking to this bastard anymore!"

"Uh, hi, Trish. What's that?" My feigned ignorance was terrible, but we were on the phone, so she couldn't see my unconvincing expression.

"Dante slept with Angelica!"

"I think he did." This drama had been unavoidable.

"That bitch! And him! Boyfriends aren't supposed to sleep around!"

"Is he your boyfriend, now?" The jealous tone sprang out before I could control it. Fortunately, she didn't notice.

"Well, we've been having sex like maniacs for weeks. I don't see anyone else... He was supposed to do th'same thing!"

"Trish, did Dante ever ask you to be his girlfriend?"

"No."

"Did he ever mention that you guys were dating?"

"No, but that's not th'poi—"

"Unfortunately, it is, Trish... We're talking about a guy here. They don't think like we do. They just assume that sex happens to them, that there's nothing to it. They don't see a relationship building where we do. If there's nothing tying them down, they'll make use of that freedom, instead of committing."

"Can I talk to you?"

"Of course you can. Want to come over?"

"Yes," Trish said, sniffling before hanging up.

She was at the apartment only a few minutes later, looking unkempt and sad. She'd seen too much into what had been happening between herself and my neighbor. But I'd shown her what Dante was, another guy who wouldn't stay, who wouldn't see things like we would—a guy to stay away from. Advice that I wasn't heeding myself.

Trish berated me for twenty minutes straight, then went on a depressive mode and cried for a while. I felt guilt when she said something else.

"I mean, after all, I did love him, and he goes and just fucks one of my friends after I'm out of th'city for one day?"

It hurt to know that I had let Trish fall that hard for him. I felt like a manipulative bitch and I didn't like it, toying with others' feelings. But at the same time, I'd seen Dante. Every time he looked at me, I figured he saw himself in one of those video games where I was at the end of the stage and he had to just go ahead and claim his prize. I wasn't a possession, nor a trophy to be had and discarded. That's why I had protected myself with my friends. They had to be the video game pitfalls that the little guy wouldn't be able to jump across so he couldn't get to me. My friends were free and looking for sex. I wasn't. I couldn't be.

"Trish... Did you ever tell him that?"

"I didn't need to! Th'things we did, how he touched me, how he... did..." Trish trailed off. I heard her inner voice. I could've sworn he was in love with me. He didn't seem to treat me like frat boys trying to get into my pants to leave me after that... And in the end, he did just that.

"Sweetie, why didn't you talk with him?"

"He should've known."

"He should have."

"But... He confuses me," she said, her sorrowful New York accent sounding beautiful in a heartbreaking manner.

"Why?"

"He acted as if he'd never known he was cheating on me, and when I did call him a cheating bastard... he... he got angry with me!"

"What?"

"Yeah, I called him a cheating bastard and he went all angry with me. Scary angry. He told me he didn't cheat, ever, and he said he'd apologize if he'd been an idiot by not understanding me, but that I should never call him anything like that."

Hell, that confused even me. The guy was a maze.

"Trish, the thing is, according to him, you guys never went exclusive, so he saw Angelica as fair game. At least judging by the way guys are, well, guys. And honestly, Angelica saw him as available, too. Otherwise, she wouldn't have done that."

"It's not fair, I—"

"It's never fair," I said, holding her hand, still feeling bad about having been part of the cause of her sadness.

***

There was another cocktail party and everyone was invited: Trish, Jason, Brian, Lish, Summer, Janet. The whole group daughters and sons of the actual investors, businessmen, politicians, and social elite. You can see the kind of events where the leading generation wants their heirs and heiresses known, offering a few run-ins with real situations, still not potentially disastrous for them. It was shallow, and it promised to be one of those things that Angelica would love to avoid so I texted her to see if she was going to make it.

"Ready for tonight?! :D" Of course she would read the sarcasm on that one.

"As ready as I'll ever be. At least I'm bringing a date that won't flake this time around."

There was only one option. I was about to go over to my neighbor's and ring the doorbell when I saw a huge guy come out of Dante's, the kind of man you see on artistic nudes: built with every single muscle showing, a sure gait, and the attitude of a guy who owned the world. Dante had already had visits before. I had to be sure I wasn't jumping to conclusions about who this man was.

He opened the door, and I was proud of myself for not drooling over my neighbor. His suit had a modern touch, and his slightly opened shirt showed a bit of skin.

I did my British accent imitation and faked ignorance. "Sounds like you've had a busy day, so far. How dapper. Wait, are you going to the cocktail party thing?

"I guess."

"This is so soap opera. Trish is totally miffed, and Angelica invites you to the event."

"Is Trish going? I'll have to cancel. It's not that I don't want to see her, but my policies include trying to stay drama-free."

That was an unexpected attitude because it wasn't as if he wanted to be rid of Trish. It was more as if he were respecting her wishes, and yet, he hadn't addressed a particular issue. "And leave Angelica hanging?" I asked.

"She should've thought about it." Gentlemanly in a weird way, indeed. The plot thickens. Let's see what we can get out of this.

"Tell you what. Lemme talk to Trish. She wanted to skip it." An obvious lie, but I could manage. "I'll say you offered to go to give her a reason not to. We all win. I'll do my best to smooth things between Angelica and Trish, too."

"That is very generous of you"—then he saw that we were haggling—"Wait, what do I have to do in return?"

Give it to me, hard, like you did to Ange— Stop. Danielle, stop. "I get five questions. You answer truthfully. I can ask you anytime."

"I can choose not to answer if there's someone else in the room?"

"You get to postpone it," I conceded.

"If you ask something I don't know the answer to, 'I don't know' is a valid answer and you lose the question."

"Fair enough. The answer needs to make sense though. If you have to explain something with lots of background, you'll do so."

"Deal."

Now I had five questions that could probe deep into who Dante was. I was excited. I called Trish as quickly as I could. The teen didn't want to see Dante. Also, she didn't want to go. Solved. As simple as that, I got everyone thinking I was doing favors for them. It had taken little effort for me to gain access to my neighbor's private issues with some well thought questions. Later on, I would smooth the small details out between everyone so there would be no drama, no "you stole my man" comments between friends.

I went back to my apartment to get ready. I was waiting for Jason who was only going to shower, put some gel on, and call it done. Guys have it so easy. Jason said hi with a quick peck on the lips and went straight to the bathroom. I think he was more excited to see the shower than me. What was happening? Did he go out with the guys again?

I'd chosen a red dress that I was sure worked with my body. I wasn't taking any chances on fashion mishaps at this kind of event. Gold accessories, and I was deciding whether to use a clutch when someone knocked on my door. I wrapped the shawl a bit tighter around myself and opened the door.

I could tell Angelica had just done something with Dante, but the way he looked at me... He wanted to have sex right away. He was lustful and staring purposefully, dizzying in a strange way.

"Danielle," Angelica said, interrupting my thoughts and making me realize that I'd been looking at Dante a bit too long. "Could I borrow some perfume? I forgot about it."

"Yup! Come on, I'll show you!" There was still a barely noticeable whiff of perfume on her, which meant she wanted to mask the smell of what had been happening. But one must be courteous and pretend nothing happens.

As we neared my room, the bathroom door opened up unexpectedly, making Angelica yelp.

"Danielle, you're out of clean towels— Oh," Jason said, coming out of the bathroom and failing to notice there were guests.

I looked at Dante. While he was impressed with Jason's equipment, I'm sure, he was already moving on to study other things around him.

"What the—?" Jason shut the door, making it look like a Friends or How I Met Your Mother situation.

"What's next, the lights go out in the party and we'll get to meet a long-lost brother, too? Life is starting to feel like a sitcom," Dante grumbled.

"Who would've thought?" Angelica said, winking at me, making an obvious reference to Jason's length.

"Anyway, so, towel, perfume," I said, breaking the spell. Walking with Angelica in tow, I pulled out a towel from the closet and handed it to Jason after carefully opening the bathroom door. I raised my voice so Dante could hear me. "Don't tempt Murphy. We might get caught in a blizzard or something!"

"Well, Murphy can kiss my marketable ass."

"Angelica's last name is Faris, not Murphy," I let him know with a wink.

"Hey!"

"I do not kiss and tell, but I can tell what happened that didn't involve kissing, I guess, huh? Well, Angelica doesn't—" Dante told me before Angelica responded.

"Dante." Angelica's tone was an obvious warning to withdraw sex from the conversation.

Dante stared back at her, as if daring her.

She looked back at him, accepting the challenge.

"My, aren't you guys intense," I said, interrupting the exchange. I looked at the clock, letting them know that we might be late. They got the hint.

***

So, the whole shebang, it was as always. Everybody flaunting stuff we pretended to like. Whatever was current was what we would eat: fusion, molecular, organic, exotic or local... I already knew what to expect.

Dante wasn't a part of the social circles of any table, but he swam with us seamlessly, exchanging pleasantries and politely nodding at comments with a small smile. He couldn't force himself to laugh at the jokes he didn't find funny, however. Still, there was no glint in his eye—no actual spark of interest—which I couldn't blame him for.

We made it to the table of a few people I actually knew and liked—Teo, Angelica's father, among them. He greeted me warmly as if I were Angelica's sister. Another few friends, and friends of my father, were there that appreciated a few of us. I mentally marked all their locations like a person in the desert marks an oasis on a map. Then, we went over to Brian's table where most of the men in our age bracket were. I could see that Jason wanted to stay and after saying hello to everyone, he'd go right back to them. When we were done and trying to figure out where to mingle, Jason was about to take a step towards his favorite table when Sarah's voice interrupted everything.

"Danielle, Jason, it's nice to see you," she said, pausing long enough for it to almost be uncomfortable before acknowledging the rest of our group. "Angelica, it's been a while."

The bitch queen. Whoever had coined that nickname had kept their identity a secret, but the nickname had spread like wildfire and was always used, but never to her face because everyone knew enough about her and how dangerous she was. After all, her father was someone who always had business deals with firms like Procter & Gamble or Unilever, and a few smaller ones. In that universe, the word "smaller" still meant a few million dollars per transaction. She'd grown up a princess and didn't know any other life. She couldn't understand the possibility of her whims not being catered to and fulfilled, and although she was only twenty, you could see the kind of woman she would be for the rest of her life.

"It has, Sarah," Angelica said as politely as she could while Sarah's retinue watched the show about to unfold. Since Angelica had been successful in a few things (unwittingly or not, like being naturally beautiful, or being socially adaptable), Sarah didn't waste time demeaning my friend.

"You haven't introduced your friend to us." The way Sarah said 'friend,' she may as well have said 'fucktoy.' "Do you even know his name? Or are you just getting acquainted publicly for the first time instead of privately?"

Her cronies smirked behind her. Angelica took it like a champ, being older and grown up, not falling for petty insults. Dante wasn't thrilled.

"Dante, this is Sarah... Sarah, Dante." Angelica was actually polite in her way.




Danielle



"A pleasure, Dante."

"The pleasure is all mine." The acting between them was as good as Spanish-speaking soap opera characters.

"I'll try to remember your name, but please, don't be offended if I don't. Angelica has a tendency to change dates too often. Even in a single party."

Sarah wasn't holding back.

"Kore wa iranai"—this is unnecessary—I whispered behind his back. Japanese was proving to be useful with Dante. Also, Jason had already forewarned him that he shouldn't be reckless. I hoped he'd heed the advice. And yet, he steeled himself subtly, and I knew he was going to do the chivalrous thing and protect his date. I saw ideas revolving around inside his head, all pointing towards the same target: Now, what can I say to make it hurt? Stupid.

"While that reputation might be an exaggeration, I am sure, I also believe it might be hard for her to settle for a lesser man when Angelica has more than one actually willing to be with her."

Fuck. I normally don't curse internally or externally, but even if Dante hadn't been absolutely subtle, he'd gone up against the worst possible person in this scenario. Jason was doing the cut-throat hand sign, signaling him to end the conversation and move on. While it might have been possible to swerve out of trouble, the damage had been done.

"What the fuck was that supposed to mean?"

Jason was actually eyeing Dante with a plea in his eyes. I touched Dante's back comfortingly, telling him to hold back. He breathed in and caressed the bridge of his nose before saying something else. With everything to lose and still willing to defend a woman was just... hot. That didn't make it any less stupid. Still, it was hot. Angelica, fortunately, reacted and pulled Dante away from us.

"Anyway, Sarah, nice to see you—"

Sarah walked right in front of them, blocking their path. "No, no, no, I want to know what the fuck that was."

"I certainly understand the desire to be rid of misunderstandings, Sarah," Dante said, his tone more diplomatic, apparently not wanting to embarrass Angelica.

"Trying to get the foot out of your mouth, now?" She was leering.

Even if I didn't entirely know my neighbor, I was sure this was going to end terribly. I saw all apologies drain away from his face as he looked towards Sarah. His thoughts spoke to me again. So you want me to be truthful, now, huh? Let's make it easy enough so even a fifth grader would get it. Jason saw the silent resolve and tried to wave him off. Angelica clutched Dante's arm tighter, but he was already on his way to deliver some comment that would ruin everything. My worried expression didn't deter him either.

"Since it appears that you can't figure it out on your own, what I meant was that of the men that have bedded Angelica—and I firmly believe that it's a lesser number than what you imply—she has been able to pick who gets to do it, and none of them have thought, 'Hey, at least I'm not jacking off.' Claims that, sadly, I'm sure you cannot make."

Holy fuck. The world went quiet. Like in those movies right before they kill one of the important characters.

"You piece of shit, do you have any idea of who I am?" He's done.

"Should I know who you are? Or who your daddy is?"

I thought of hiding. Dante, please, don't go on... Still, nothing would've come out any better had I intervened. They were already in the middle of the discussion.

Sarah was like a dog with a bone. "That's it. I'm finding out who the fuck you are and I will fucking destroy you."

Her mouth always amazed me. She sounded more like a longshoreman instead of a twenty-year-old debutante. Although he didn't say it, I could hear Dante thinking, Whatever, bitch, here you go. To make things more interesting, he even internally sang a few verses of Primadonna's 'get what I want 'cause I ask for it, not because I'm really that deserving of it...'

Trying not to laugh while being stressed and worried is conflicting.

"Will you do it? Or will one of Daddy's employees do all the dirty work and just let you know when it's done? I will be surprised if your attention span is that long." Just... Dammit, Dante.

Sarah's head looked about ready to explode. Giving Dante a withering gaze, she slowly turned around, surely off for a scene with her father. Whatever came from this, Dante wouldn't benefit. Hopefully, her dad wouldn't take her too seriously on this one, but he had the last word.

"Please make a beeline for Daddy and avoid the snacks in between." Dante probably knew he was doomed before saying that. Sarah wasn't fat, but my neighbor was able to sense how she disliked her curves. Sure, she was a tad overweight, but nothing too noticeable; yet, he had done it just for the sting since he was already going down.

Three seconds later, Jason whooped.

Angelica didn't concur. "That was the most stupid—"

"Stupidly chivalrous—" I had to amend, looking warily at Dante.

"I can't believe you talked back and actually dissed Sarah!" Jason was delighted to see Sarah take such a beating, oblivious to the consequences. "Holy shit, this is going to be huge! Ha! Dante, you deserve this. Take it as a token of the world's appreciation." He handed Dante a random, unopened wine bottle from a nearby table, which Dante accepted absentmindedly.

"Anyway, since I see that this evening was a huge success, I think it's best that I show myself the exit." Dante was right. Not half an hour had gone by. A simple greeting had mushroomed to a blitzkrieg.

"There is no way you're going back alone after that," Angelica firmly said.

"I think it's best if we all left. This is going to spread like a wildfire," I had to admit.

"Are you joking? This thing is unheard of!" Jason, unlike Dante, knew how wrong this could turn out, but he still wasn't sensitive to the seriousness of the situation. "I mean, the guys have to hear it, and man, they should've seen the look on Sarah's face when you called her— Haha!"

"I think I'm going back," I said, trying to get everyone out of there.

"But, baby, the whole party is about to get real now—"

I give up. "Don't worry, I'm sure Dante and Angelica won't mind giving me a ride back, right?"

"Of course, Danielle." Angelica at least saw it the way I did.

"Aw, you're gonna miss it! Well, text me when you're home!" No kiss goodbye, nothing. Jason simply walked away, eager to see the whole outrage storm blossom.

Once we were out of there, Angelica whispered into Dante's ear, and he said something back. It was all very intimate, yet unromantic. Interesting. It was as if they were suddenly best friends.

What I didn't know was what had gone through Dante's mind when he had parked Angelica's car. The place looked downright creepy, and we all sensed it. We huddled together as we walked down the dimly lit street. And things did take a turn for the worse.

A few shadows emerged from our right. "Ay ay ay, mira nomás..."

My blood surged through my veins, feeling cold as ice.

"Este cueco tan acompañado." Another voice came from a different shadow.

"No, aguanta, broder, haznos el paro."

That was Dante. Holy shit, that was Dante, speaking Spanish using the first guy's accent. I couldn't place the accent, nor understand many of the words that were exchanged, but he seamlessly spoke the language.

"Venimos buscando jale y nos gastamos todo en esta ropa y pinches joyas falsas pa'que nos vean bonitos y nos den chamba. Acabamos de llegar."

I trusted Dante, and whatever he was doing. I pressed myself against him. Angelica did the same.

"No mames, ¿paisano?" The leader didn't see it coming, either, apparently, this guy speaking to him as if they were from the same town. Paisano sounded related to "country," for sure.

"Te lo juro, ca'on, es más, pa'que veas, hasta nos clavamos el chupe." Dante was showing the bottle he had been given by Jason and was probably trying to do something smart with it.

The men started to laugh. Fortunately for us, it wasn't a malicious laugh.

Dante kept going, doing whatever variation of Spanish he was using. "Ojalá salga bien, pero pa'que veas que no soy mamón ni nada, se las compartimos. Hay que echarnos la mano entre hermanos."

The leader whistled when he saw the bottle. "No, pos vas a pura cosa nice."

"Eso espero, si no, pues de lo que caiga."

At Dante's response, the leader extended his hand and my neighbor shook it, introducing himself.

"Dante. Si va bien con lo del trabajo, lo que necesites, ya sabes, broder."

"Francisco. Ya estás, Dante."

"Ojalá no le haya pasado nada al carro, una tía lo rentó para apantallar y no quiero que nos cobren la chingadera como nueva."

"Ah, ¿es suyo ese? No, nosotros no le hacemos a lo de los carros."

"Chingón, pues. ¡Buenas!"

"Buenas."

Angelica and I were still glued to Dante as we walked towards her car. We got in, still breathing uneasily. My neighbor waved at the guys as we sped away. My heart was still beating like a hummingbird's when Angelica finally said something.

"I think my ovaries just exploded."

Dante just snorted, not understanding how much sex he was about to get. My friend didn't leave any room for doubt. "Dante, you and I have a lot to do tonight."

"What the hell was that?" I mean, I was confused enough.

"Holy fuck, that was close," Dante said, then went all sarcastic on me. "That was called 'Spanish.' It's a language."

"I know it was Spanish. I took some in high school, but that..."

Then, I knew I had an opportunity to discover more about Dante. Using one of my fingers and looking at him knowingly, I asked my first question by raising one finger beforehand for a few seconds.

"Is Spanish your first language?"

Angelica was certainly interested by that. Maybe she'd noticed Dante's accent—faint as it was—maybe not. But evidently, she hadn't asked a question like that.

"Tsk, tsk, Danielle. You could've asked what country I was born in, you know? Spanish is spoken in at least twenty countries. You could've gotten two pieces of information out of one question." My neighbor was playing with the words, charmingly toying with the answer. "But it is."

He wasn't about to confuse me. "Not really. I'm pretty sure you're from South America. The accent—"

"Don't be so sure. Mira, tía, que los acentos." Dante used an accent that I think was from Spain, but immediately switched to a different one. "No son una jodienda para imitar," and then another one, "es saber qué vainas usar en cada frase, mamita."

"Damn." He's good at this.

"I know slang from quite a few places, the cadence and tone of a few countries. So, first question, check."

Glancing in the rearview mirror, he gave me a terribly sexy smile. I don't think he was aware of how alluring he was because he broke the eye contact quickly and kept on driving nonchalantly. But I wasn't unaffected. The way he had switched languages and stood in our defense had been impressive in its own way, and it had an effect on me. Maybe I was turned on or something, because when we went up to the walkway where our doors faced each other, Angelica hugged me. Then when Dante hugged me, I clung to his back and trailed my fingertips on it just a little before I noticed what I was doing and stopped myself, and yet unable to help myself from caressing his arms as we separated. Yet, it was Angelica's arms who wrapped themselves around his torso from behind. I hoped they couldn't notice that I wanted to be the one to do that to him—at least that night—before forgetting about him.

And yet, he wouldn't let me.

As hot and bothered as I was, I needed to treat myself to one of the orgasms that I had when I played with myself thinking about him.

The certainty of him having sex next door also helped. I waited for the telltale sounds. ND was out in an instant. I silently waited on my bed, idly teasing myself until I heard the first moan on the other side of the wall. That's when ND went inside of me and I moaned for him. I was really getting into it, when for the first time in my life, I heard Angelica scream.

I closed my eyes, trying to think about Dante's hard body fucking me hard enough to make me scream like Angelica. Sweat formed on my back. My pelvis was moving so fast against the toy that it felt like a workout.

The second scream was also unexpected. I thought that it would be only once that she would be so loud, but as I played with myself, I heard the next one and I trembled when I heard her.

"OH GOD, DANTE, OH! YES!"

By now, I was sure that I wasn't the only one listening to their sex, which had to be world-stopping. I was breathing heavily, about to climax, when Angelica screamed again.

"FUCK ME, DANTE, FUCK ME!"

I whimpered into the pillow, hearing my neighbor fuck my friend like you only hear in porn. But this time, it didn't sound acted at all. I began trembling, nearing orgasm.

"FUCK ME, FUCK M—AAAGH!"

I came at the same time as Angelica, picturing my unreadable neighbor fucking me like I would never allow any guy to take me, being forceful and gentle, just like he acted around people... I came so hard I actually couldn't control my arms for a second.

Then the guilt came.

I understood that I had a crush on my neighbor, which made me go on full thought overdrive. It was normal to go through a crush while you were in a relationship. It was just about being smart. What was worth more? Flings would never replace a boyfriend. A momentary thrill could be strong and almost overpowering, but it would be gone as soon as it had happened.

I became more determined to keep Dante out of my life.

I just hoped my willpower matched my brain.

***

I made a phone call around noon the following day.

"Heyyy, Angelica!"

"Hey, Danielle."

"I think even my Korean neighbors know that Dante got laid last night."

"Heehee..." Ohmigod, Angelica actually giggled. She paused, regaining her usual demeanor. "I know." I have to be smart about this.

"So, does that mean you're keeping him?"

"Dante? And me? Are you crazy?" Dammit, yes, you were supposed to make him your boyfriend!

"Yeah, I mean, after last night..."

"Oh, Dante is a good lay. Scratch that, he is a great lay. He'll make you stop thinking and... Anyway. He's also a very good friend. He listens and gives thoughtful, good advice. But if both of us are in the same room and we're not having sex in the almost immediate future, I will kill him with my bare hands. Or he will strangle me. Our personalities don't match that way, and we've discussed this. We can only be friends that have a few extra... perks, if you will. But nothing beyond that." OK, Danielle, think fast. We can't have him available.

"So if he sleeps around, you wouldn't mind?"

"I'm not like Trish, you know?" Oh, right, gotta take care of that.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

"Prove it."

"What do you mean?"

"Allow someone... uh... let's say... Clarissa, to have a go at him. I mean, you saw her look at him after the fashion assessment thing, right?"

"Hah, I know. She hasn't gotten over it yet."

"You wanna bet that you'll feel something?"

"I certainly can bet on me not caring," Angelica dared me.

"OK, how about dinner—"

"No, no... Dinner's whatever. How about you ignore the next needy text from Jason to prove to me you're not being all crazy anymore, or dependent? Codependent? Whatever that word is."

"I can't." This was outlandish.

"Look, let's just be real about it. Of course, if the text is important, someone dying or anything, it doesn't count. Neither do you have to be rude. Just not go all crazy after him right when you get the text."

"And what do I get if I win?"

"Hmmm... I think I can leave it up to you. After all, I did name my price."

"Deal."

It was risky business, a game I knew I was going to lose, but I was sure it was worth it. If Angelica didn't work for Dante as a possible partner to keep him in a relationship (after all, he was free to have sex with other women, and I was certain that my friend didn't mind), I had to find a replacement. I'd just pushed Angelica towards getting Clarissa to do it. That way it wouldn't be obvious; it wouldn't be me pushing all the girls to Dante's arms. However, there was one thing I didn't like at all. That was the fact that Angelica didn't only seem too sure of herself, which I didn't mind, it was the fact that she also seemed to know what I was doing. After all, she knew me and knew how I thought, just as I knew she was clever.

Just in case, I worked on my independence to be in a better relationship, calmer now that I knew I had a new person in mind for Dante to possibly fall for, or at least to keep him satiated and not lusting after me. Sometimes being smart isn't forcing things to happen. It's just getting stuff out of the way. I knew that my willpower near my neighbor wasn't great, so if I took him out of the equation, I wouldn't need to see how much I could withstand of his presence.

Coffee craving got to me and I went out, not texting Jason or anyone, just going out by myself again. Being independent.

Coffee by myself was actually empowering in a way I couldn't define in its entirety. I texted, idly read the latest book that L had lent me, The Mote in God's Eye. It had had a very slow buildup, but it was starting to be worth reading. Not only was it good sci-fi, but reading by myself was a piece of me-time that I wouldn't have thought possible only a few months ago. But it was time to go back to my apartment.

Of course, the fates decided to tempt me.

When I was almost at the door, I saw his frame as he absentmindedly punched the code to the apartment complex's entrance. Apartment 'complex' was the way to say it because there were actually two doors, one right after the other, to get inside. Maybe they foresaw trouble and security issue. Maybe the architect wanted to show off when they built the whole thing. But it was a chore. Dante looked back to see if anyone was behind him, saw me, and stood gallantly, holding the door open for me. Chivalry wasn't dead, apparently. I couldn't stop myself from feeling special, even if it was a stupid door being held open.

I went inside and my neighbor followed, allowing the door behind us to close, because you couldn't have both of them open at the same time, like a bank's security system. The landlord had to override the process to allow people to move large furniture in or out. And because Dante had challenged Murphy, or the fates decided not to go easy on me, the lights went out right after we entered the elevator.

That's when things got terrible. Being claustrophobic doesn't prevent you from going into small spaces. When you're, say, inside an elevator, you can be perfectly calm, even when you're claustrophobic. You know you'll be moving again and you'll be in an enclosed space for only a few seconds before the doors open. But when the lights go out and every wall is only a few feet away from you, the world closes in, limiting your freedom. The air becomes scarce and the rising feelings of anxiety you have to escape before it all goes even worse makes you go crazy. You have to find a way out. Now.

I knocked at the door, then banged my hands on it, trying to open it. I have to get out of here! My breathing was ragged. I can't breathe! Suddenly, my arms were encased by something strong that didn't allow me to move. I panicked more.

My mind registered the force binding me: Dante. I couldn't stop myself from struggling against him. He couldn't understand the pressure. I began to cry and breathe wildly, but I managed to say something. "Claustrophobic," I said, barely enunciating the word, trying to pull my arms from him, kicking him, doing anything to be free again, to be able to move.




Danielle



The strength of the embrace immediately softened. He gently pulled me towards him without enveloping me in his arms, giving me my space, which was probably intended to be comforting. He quietly said, "Come with me. We'll sit here."

Maybe the gesture was meant in a nice way, but you don't hug a claustrophobic person who's feeling claustrophobic. The world quickly closes in again. I fought him again for a second before he backed off. The room wasn't well lit since it was getting late and the lights had gone out, but I saw him go to a corner of the elevator and sit. My neighbor pulled me gently again, and I sat down next to him, my back against the corner of the room. Dante said, "Let's look at the corner over there, up, the one on the other end."

He was pointing at the opposite corner of the small box we were in. I steeled myself to stay calm, which wasn't easy, but I knew I had no other option. It was freak out right then and hurt myself or Dante, or freak out later. Calm down, Danielle. I trembled, trying to think of other things. Dante's strong hand caressed my back slowly in a soothing way.

"We have to wait for the lights to come back on, but if you sit here, you'll see that the room is bigger than it seems. I don't— If it helps, close your eyes and imagine yourself in a big ballroom. That's why there's some echo here, because it's so wide..."

Dante was actually trying to help. He obviously didn't know much about treating people with phobias like mine, but it was heartwarming to hear him focusing on me and trying to make me feel better. His voice talked about wide spaces and bright skies, of a ballroom and a savanna... I just listened to his faint accent, his smooth voice talking and describing, trying to lose myself in his efforts. It started to work. After a while, I noticed that he was whispering in my ear, still trying to be calming, but his hot breath on my ear was having a very, very different effect. For a second, I was too aware of his body against mine reminding me I was in a tiny room. I freaked and snapped back to reality, and then pulled my cell phone out.

"I'm calling Lish. She lives nearby." I couldn't even dial because of the stress and arousal.

"It's OK. Somebody should be here in a few minutes."

"Yeah, you're right. There's always someone trying to go in or out." I tried to calm down by telling myself not to focus on Dante being pressed against me. And honestly, what could Lish do? She couldn't return power to the building. I closed my eyes and snuggled against Dante, just letting time flow, feeling relaxed in his embrace. Then, I had an idea. I held two fingers up.

"Ask," was all he said.

"Why did you get upset at Trish's comment?"

"Huh?"

"She said you went all weird when she called you a cheater."

Evidently, he hadn't expected that. He looked at me thoughtfully with his mysterious eyes, and then past me, looking at things I couldn't see even if I turned my head around.

"OK. I moved here from— I moved here when I was in high school. My brother and I started getting along with the guys that would be named "the boy band": Mike, Gabriel, and Pan. Suddenly, Ralph, that's the big guy you must've seen last time coming out of my apartment, was in the group. My brother used the newfound popularity because he was smitten with this girl named Yuliya. Russian, a year younger. She'd gone through the same "exotic animal from another country" process, so he was hooked on her.

"They'd do random stuff, pretend they didn't speak English to get out of trouble. They were the official couple of the band. He did crazy hours of commute to see her. One day, Ralph comes by, pissed off, dragged by Gabriel and Pan from this party we hadn't been invited to. Galahad's girlfriend's engagement party. Ralph mistakenly got an invite for it and went. Never mind that high school is terribly young to get engaged for most, but that's what happened."

He had a brother named Galahad? Dante and Galahad. Someone in his family was a book lover. But Galahad, the poor guy, had gone through a remarkably crappy relationship. I was learning more than I had thought possible from a small question. But it was tough thinking about how he would've felt, seeing his brother and not being able to do something about it. Dante saw my expression. His handsome face clouded with something, as if he didn't want me feeling bad about it. He closed up, which made me feel worse. However, he wasn't done with the explanation.

"He never found out when he went from being 'the main guy' to 'the other man.' To make things sweeter, the guy that had been in love with her that thought all's fair in love and war had been our supposed best friend, so they always knew how and when to sneak around because we trusted him.

"Ralph took the news as good as Galahad would've, but he's considerably stronger. Mike was pummeled. They've been banned from our group and he knows that even now neither Galahad nor I will be civil enough to tolerate his presence. Hers, we can ignore."

Fair enough. I can see how that can definitely be something that changes your perception on cheating people. I was about to speak when I noticed Dante was about to say something else. I closed my eyes and listened to him.

"I've seen enough cases of cheating to never judge, however. I don't go straight to branding women sluts, or anything. And life isn't a fairy tale. I've been with girls in relationships, telling myself that it's OK if that'll be a lesson or payback to the guy. I'm no saint, and it doesn't make sense. But that's how it is."

How... Strange. His views on cheating are certainly different. I was still thinking about it when he trembled slightly against me. It shouldn't have been hot, but it was. Then again, I had to see why he was trembling.

I looked at him. Dante was staring at me with a gaze that turned my knees to jelly. Instant arousal flared up inside me. But there had to be a reason for his doing that, even more so after explaining about cheating since I was in a relationship, whether he liked it or not. Whether I liked it or not.

I tried to reposition myself slightly, not to be so close to him when my willpower was nothing but crap. I noticed then that my hand wasn't on his chest as it had been. When I had moved it, my fingers had unwittingly caressed his hardness from top to bottom. He moaned in the sexiest way I'd ever heard a guy moan, his breath against my skin, and his gaze... I heard his inner voice as clear as day. Don't do anything rash, woman, or I will have you, right here. I don't care who comes by or who tries to stop me.

I reacted immediately, pulling my hand away from Dante, still not knowing when my hand had moved down from his chest, and trying to forget how hard and inviting it had felt. But I couldn't. I wanted to... well, so many things that were far from proper.

"Dante, this shouldn't happen," I said, my voice thick with lust. "We can't let it happen."

"I know. That doesn't prevent me from enjoying... whatever we've been doing," he answered breathily. I think I actually became wet when I heard his voice affected with desire as much as mine. But he was still in control. A little playing couldn't go wrong when he was still thinking. I smiled mischievously.

"We do have a strange friendship," I admitted, wondering how far I could push it without being improper.

I didn't move. I almost demanded that my skin feel his shape even more, just enjoying the thrill of being snuggled with my hunk of a neighbor being all horny because of me, breathing heavily, the atmosphere dense with playful but very real sexual tension.

While the rules were unspoken, I soon found out we were playing a game, that we were talking to each other without using our voices. If I breathed deeply, he'd do so too, inhaling and exhaling at the same pace I was. He would sigh with his velvety voice, and the shivers that went down my spine would be so intense I'd even shudder. I'd press myself against him a bit harder, and I'd feel his body tense, like a tiger ready to pounce on me. At some point, he had moved his mouth again near my ear and exhaled his hot breath onto my right ear. I became so tense. I was surprised he didn't smell how wet I was. We kept going, exchanging trembles for lust-charged sighs, trading a trembling body for a luscious hum... It was almost like having sex without using our bodies the typical way.

I was thinking that any second he'd just turn around and kiss me hotly, but the lights came back on and the world rushed back in.

I quickly woke up from my fantasy world and punched the code again. One door opened up for us. I went back to the outside. I didn't feel like going to my apartment anymore, even if I was still aroused. I simply needed to feel the air, walk, and see the sky.

When I opened the door, of course, there had to be people outside waiting to misinterpret the way I looked. Since I had fought and gone through a panic attack, I was sure that to a keen observer Dante and I might've looked as if we had just made out, or more. Mr. Kim's expression was neutral. Whatever he thought, he kept to himself, looking as nice as always. Then there was one of the new tenants, looking at us with an arched eyebrow and a barely noticeable knowing glint in her eye, as if saying, Honey, if I had him, I wouldn't be able to help myself either, but geeze, the door system between apartments? And, of course, Jason.

If there was a time that I had seen him ready to punch someone else, this was it. Dante hadn't even flinched. Instead, he was staring Jason down. My neighbor slowly extended his arm and placed it on my boyfriend's shoulder in a respectful manner and said, "We got stuck in there. Take her somewhere open and let her breathe in. She almost lost it."

The underlying message was clear: don't you dare doubt what she says about what just happened between us. Jason didn't like it one bit, but he looked at me and obviously saw some underlying stress still there. He took my hand and we went over to his car. As we walked, he came closer and angrily whispered, "What do you think you're doing?"

We ended up heading for a park, an isolated place that was now under heavier police surveillance since some recent, horrible thing had happened to a few teens.

It wasn't creepy. It was something I had just taught Jason. Right after something bad happens, whether a mugging or worse, there isn't going to be a safer place in the city than the one that saw the bad event happen. Since people will be wary. Usually the police will be there to calm down their nerves, unless it's a shady part of town. But it wasn't.

Jason didn't even look at me when he drove. And when we arrived at the park, he quietly walked to a bench that was well lit and near a strolling man in uniform.

"You couldn't keep your legs closed, huh?" Although he didn't verbally end the question with 'you slut,' I could hear it in his voice and see it in his eyes. Of course, he gets to fuck random women, but if he suspects me of anything, I'm the whore because I'm the woman, right?

"I didn't do it." My anger at his not believing me, and his hypocrisy, emanated from every word.

"Right."

"Jason, remember, it wasn't me who cheated a few weeks ago."

"So now you get to do it?" He is still outraged? What the...

"Good God, Jason, do you want me to take a lie detector test?" When I said that, a different expression emerged on his face. One I didn't like.

"I hope you liked it. I saw the look on his face when I came out of the bathroom. He doesn't have a thing on me." Oh, come on, from me assuring you I didn't cheat, it turns to cock size? Why don't you simply whip it out and walk down the street for everyone to see? OK, Danielle, let's just pretend he didn't say that.

"Jason, I didn't do it. The lights went out and we were trapped in the door thing for almost one hour, or half an hour, or whatever. I'm claustrophobic, remember? That space is small."

"I've seen the way you look at him."

"I've seen the way you look at other women. So? Dante's cute, but I didn't go out, get drunk, fuck him, and go back to my bed to sleep with you." This argument is getting out of control. This is where we start hurting each other without directly insulting one another. Compensate for it. Say something different— But his mind was on another track, something he seemed to realize and he was about to say something to hurt me. I couldn't have guessed what would come out of his mouth.

"You haven't fucked him because you haven't been able to, right?"

"What are you talking about? I can't go around having sex with others—"

"I guess you're right. It's not your fault you can't seduce him, even if you two were in a small, dark room for an hour."

"Take me home. Now," I said, my voice trembling with barely held back tears. That one had just gone too deep.

He just grunted and stood up. Neither of us spoke on the way back to my apartment. Only when I was alone did I give into the hurt and cry.

***

Trish had been talking a lot about Adam and saying it was time for us to meet him, which we had all agreed to. But somehow, it was her who now appeared reluctant. Until Angelica talked to Trish, who asked that Dante be included in the meeting. A weird request, not one I thought a good idea, but I had also wanted to believe that Trish wouldn't be unreasonably childish to Dante for so long either. We had to try. My apartment would be the venue, which I didn't see any problems with.

One or two minutes before the agreed time, Angelica was ringing my doorbell along with Clarissa, who was obsessed with my neighbor and getting in line to be the next friend with benefits. If it hadn't been obvious that she was lusting after Dante after she had made that "you aren't part of the official club until you've spent a night with him" comment to bug Angelica, even the dullest person would've seen her 'scheme.' But it had been days since then. I assumed they would've had sex by then, but one look at her told me everything I needed to know. Not yet and she had tried. That was a sign that I didn't like a lot. I needed Dante under control and with some girl ready to take him off the market.

The two women were looking at me, waiting for my decision. After all, he was just next door. It wouldn't take him long to get ready. I scrolled down and for the first time dialed his number.

"Hello?" Can he stop talking like that? It's distracting. Arousing.

"Hey, neighbor! We're having an informal dinner and we were wondering if you wanted to come on over!"

"Today?" Dante didn't sound sure, or very excited.

"Are you busy?"

"Come onnnn, Danteee, your harem wants to see you!" Our tiny Asian friend was giddy and most inappropriate.

"Clarissa, what the hell is wrong with you?" Angelica chastised her.

"Ah, come on, as if you haven't gotten a ride on the—"

"So! Dante! You're coming, right?" I had to cut that sentence before Dante knew just how much about him we discussed.

"Heh. Yeah, I'm in," he said before exchanging goodbyes. Now it was up to Trish.

Lish and Najwa came in together. Najwa brought Saudi food that was beyond my language skills to enunciate correctly but smelled wonderfully and had us quite curious. Clarissa had brought some burritos. Angelica had surprised us with ceviche made with crab meat. I had tried a Thai fried rice with pineapple and chicken. Lish didn't even pretend to have forgotten about the potluck idea behind the meeting and brought more than enough soda for all of us. Lorelai and Hunter had prepared inhuman amounts of lasagna, but when there are men around, food quantities might not be sufficient if you're conservative with the calculations.

My doorbell rang once more. Clarissa bolted out of her seat and opened the door, welcoming Dante and unsubtly almost having sex with him using her eye expression. My neighbor politely answered and came in to see all of us, making small remarks to each one of us, but with a guarded expression.

Once we were all seated, Angelica started the conversation, hinting at what could be eaten, since the dishes had been covered and not all of the guests knew what would be available. The conversation flowed naturally around ingredients.

"I swear, crab is more difficult to cook than you'd think," Angelica said, in her usual standoffish tone.

"I can't imagine how tough that might be. Believe me, all of you should be grateful to Danielle for not asking me to cook. All of you would've regretted it," Dante said, and then looked at me. "Thank you."

I smiled at his strange sense of humor, not because of the intention, but because his tone made it hard to know if he was joking. In response to the smile, he looked back at me with such unveiled lust, his stare sending a very pleasant tickling feeling right between my legs—

The doorbell rang and I came back to my senses, not knowing how long I'd been lost in his eyes. He came back from whatever sinful corner of his mind he'd been in, straightened up, and pretended that nothing had happened.

Of course, by then, it was too late. While we'd been lost in our own small world, the apartment had gone quiet and everyone was looking at us with different expressions that at least to some degree included thoughtfulness.

I got up to get the door. Just like my neighbor, I pretended nothing had happened, even if that was a terribly performed lie.

"You have to stop looking at women like that," I heard Clarissa say in the background.

After months of not seeing her, my red-headed friend was in my apartment. I squealed with honest delight when I saw Trish again, hugging her. The time, as short as it had been, had made a few changes in her, but none were physical. After the talks over the phone, she'd agreed to be more understanding about the Dante-Angelica situation, and I wondered what would've happened if Dante and Clarissa had hooked up.

Next to Trish, a handsome man with ebony skin and strong features was politely smiling at us. He introduced himself as Adam. From that moment, I liked him for Trish. He was evidently educated, speaking as if he read random thesaurus entries during his idle time, and he had impeccable manners. The necessary introductions were made and we proceeded to reveal the available food, to everyone's delight.

After a few minutes, however, I began to feel uncomfortable. Trish was eyeing Dante with a challenge in her eyes, as if trying to get back at him by being with Adam. Adam didn't deserve such treatment, and he would definitely notice. The man looked aware of his surroundings, and although he appreciated Trish's gestures and caresses of affection, it didn't take him long to make the correct assumptions and connections. At some point, she rubbed his strong chin with her thumb and winked at him, but Adam looked uncomfortable.

Unexpectedly, Dante eased the situation. "Adam! You mentioned something about France. Where have you been?"

Adam apparently sensed the man talking to him wasn't his rival, that if something was wrong, it had to do with Trish, which made me sad. Sure, she was a teenager, and trying to get back by rebounding wasn't unheard of, but I'd hoped she would've been above that.

Adam, Dante, and Hunter began talking about different countries and their experiences. I was paying attention to what Dante said; maybe he'd drop a hint where he or his family came from. But that didn't happen.

Eventually, the men talked in a small circle and the women made our own conversation. And all the time, I'd sense Dante's eyes on me. I'd turn around and see him looking at me in a way I couldn't define, but that elevated the sexual tension in the air. The answer in my eyes should've been different—discouraging—but I doubt it was. I was so engrossed in the game that I failed to notice at first the looks Angelica and Dante were sharing. Theirs were more conspiratorial, as if Angelica was telling him "I'm on to you guys" and he was finding it amusing. I looked at my friend with a question in my eyes. She simply winked as an answer.




Danielle



Preface

I want to state beforehand that this work is a fantasy based on facts mixed with my, shall we say, fertile imagination. I do know a young lady similar to the one I describe in this tale, and have thought of her many times. However, the intimate events detailed in this story have never happened; if they had, I certainly wouldn't be telling you about them. That would be 'ungentlemanly.'

Part One

I first met Danielle when I was her supervisor at a small diner outside Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. She was only eighteen at the time and, although I did harbor an attraction for the girl, my then current live-in relationship with a woman I deeply loved, my status as her boss, as well as the fact I was thirty years Danielle's senior, relegated me to keeping my distance. I could look, though...and from time to time, I did.

Physically, she was as lovely a girl as I had ever encountered. She was around five-ten, long and finely textured brown hair, with a creamy porcelain complexion that showed no traces of ever having needed Clearasil. Her eyes were the same brown as her hair, and were shaded by the most sensual eyelids I had ever seen. Naturally long lashes feathered her high cheekbones, and her lips were full with a slight bow.

Her body was exquisite to my eyes; slender and svelte, nearly willowy, with slender hips and small breasts. She was everything you would expect to see in a girl making her final transition to womanhood.

Her manner was friendly but cool, and very professional in the diner. She waited tables as if she had been doing it for years, not the four months she had indicated on her application. Her manner toward me was also professional, but somewhat shy. Often, when conversing with me about topics that were more personal, her eyelids would drop a bit, and I would see the slightest of blushes creep onto her cheek. It was absolutely charming, and I became a bit more open with her about my life outside of work.

Occasionally, she would ask me (or I would offer) a ride home. During those short drives, (she lived less than a mile from me) we would talk about other things; movies, music, etc. and we were surprised to find we had a lot more in common than expected, given the age gap. She loved the classic films; Lawrence of Arabia, 2001: A Space Odyssey, Paper Moon...but she also confessed a love for the work of Mel Brooks and Woody Allen. I was amazed that someone so young grasped some of Allen's subtle and intelligent humor, and came to realize Danielle was much more than she appeared. As a result, we found ourselves warming to each other even more, and relished every opportunity to talk.

Only once did the friendship threaten to go further. I had just pulled into her driveway and offered my hand for what had become our traditional farewell handshake. She took my hand, but didn't let go. Instead, she pulled me a little closer, and shyly kissed my cheek. "What was that for?" I asked, but her lids had dropped a bit and she shrugged. 

When she looked up again, she said simply, "Just a thank you...for being my friend. You're very nice, you know, and you treat me with a lot of respect at work. That's why I try to give you my best."

"Well...you do good work. I certainly do appreciate it. And Danielle?"

"Yes?"

"I do appreciate the kiss...but it would be a good idea if you didn't do that again. I'm still your boss, and even a friendly kiss could be trouble if anyone at work ever found out. They whisper enough anyway about me riding you home."

"I know," she replied, " I hear the whispers sometimes. But we are just friends, after all."

"Yes we are...and I value that friendship immensely. It's nice to have someone outside of my home to talk to."

"Yes it is," she said. A silence fell between us as we made eye contact, then Danielle brightened.

"Still friends?" she queried.

"Still friends," I replied with a grin, and we shook again. "Goodnight, see you Thursday," I said as she opened her door.

"Goodnight, Steve." The passenger door closed and I waited as I always did until she was inside the house. I shook my head...that kiss; so soft and...what was I thinking? She's just a kid! And you have a great woman!

I drove home, entered my house and found my lady. She was just getting into the shower when I turned her around and kissed her deeply, passionately. Beth responded fully to my advance, allowing me to pick her up and carry her to the bed where we made love for the next three hours.

Two months later, I quit the diner job due to a dispute with another employee. He had tried to give me a joint after work and I refused the gift, knowing it was inappropriate. It turned out to be a setup anyway, and after some heated discussion the next morning with Jon, the general manager, I told him to go fuck himself for the underhanded subterfuge, and walked out. Danielle was just coming in for her day shift and stopped me outside the front door. I explained the situation to her, and she sympatheti-cally hugged me. The general manager saw the embrace, stormed outside, and fired her on the spot for 'inappropriate fraternization with a supervisor.'

"I just quit," I reminded him, "I was no longer her supervisor when the contact occurred!"

"I don't give a shit!" he yelled, "Danielle, you are terminated, effective immediately...get your personal items from your locker and leave the premises!" 

"Asshole!" We looked at each other, surprised we had said this in unison, then burst out laughing. Jon stormed back inside, and I offered Danielle a last ride home, which she accepted. When we got to her place, she lingered in the car for a few moments. "I can't believe what just happened," she remarked. "I can't believe he fired me for that." 

"I can't believe it either. You know, " I continued, turning to look at her, "we could file a lawsuit for this. I was technically and factually not employed there when you hugged me."

"But by law, it would have to go through an arbitration process first, right?"

Surprised, I looked at her. "How did you know that?"

"I took some classes last year...you know, business administration, business law, stuff like that. We covered this subject. There would be an arbitration hearing to see if the issue could be settled out of court. If no resolution is reached, then a suit could proceed." I shook my head in wonder. Danielle had amazed me again with her intellect. 

"Right," I continued, " and Jon would probably agree to rehire you to avoid the suit. I would have no standing because I had already quit, and..." 

"And he would make my life miserable until I quit," she finished. Danielle shrugged. "Ah...just as well. He paid me shit wages anyway, and the tips weren't that great. Good riddance, upon reflection." She smiled at me. "You OK?" I took a breath and whooshed it out in a sigh. 

"Yeah...I can always get another job. Look, Danielle..if you ever need a reference...you have my number, right?" 

"Yeah...but I'm probably going to go back to school full time anyway. But I'll call you from time to time, if that's alright." She smiled as I nodded. "Steve...you're the best boss I've ever had." And with that, she held out her hand. As I took it, she quickly kissed my cheek. "I'm gonna miss working with you."

"Me too," I returned. She smiled softly, and her eyes dropped a bit, those long lashes touching her cheeks. She gave me one last look, opened the door and left.

I didn't see her again for three years. She never called.

Part Two

In the following years, I opened and folded two businesses, worked part-time jobs in a variety of industries, bought and sold two cars, sold my house...and lost my lady to another man. Beth had grown impatient with what she called my "lack of direction," but I didn't discover her affair until she had been gone for a month. Beth left me two days before Christmas that last year, and I was devastated. Luckily, my parents and siblings were empathetic, and they did a lot in helping me get over a failed eight year love affair.

I found myself working with various hospitals and nursing homes as a patient advocate, or ombudsman. I had been appointed to this position due to my management experience, which had included a lot of conflict resolution involving departments and employees in a union shop. I had been doing this job for about six months when I was called to investigate patient abuse complaints at a large university hospital in downtown Philadelphia.

I was on the third floor, having wrapped up some interviews with three LPN's and two CNA's, a process that had taken over four hours. As I left the conference room and headed for the elevators, an eight foot high food cart came around the corner, nearly colliding with me in the hall. I dodged left and banged my briefcase on the side of the cart. A female voice exclaimed, "Omigod! Are you OK?"

I looked up and said, "Yes...I just didn't see you com..." I stopped as I saw her, a slow smile breaking over my face.

Danielle looked at me, her eyes widening in shock. "Oh, WOW! Steve! Hey, you!" In a flash, she was hugging me fiercely. I hugged back just as hard. "Danielle!" We pulled back and regarded each other. "Where'd you come from?," she asked, and wrapped her arms around me once more.

"Aw, sweetie, you look great!" I took another look. She looked exactly the same as she had at eighteen...just as lovely, just as slim. "How are you?"

"I'm great, thanks; you? 

"I'm good...just happened to be here on business and kinda ran into you."

"I ran into you...well, almost!" We laughed. "I'm sorry I never called you, Steve."

"Yeah, I was wondering about that." I looked at my watch. "Listen...I gotta go, I'm due back at the office, but let me give you my new number." In a flash, she pulled out a smartphone and saved the information. "Please call me later, uh...after six-thirty," I said. We looked at each other again. "We could go get a drink and catch up, if you'd like." 

"That sounds great! Steve...I'm really happy to see you. I thought I'd never see you again." 

"I was kinda wondering what happened to you, too," I said, and looked at my watch again. "I'm sorry, I really do have to go. Call me?" 

"Count on it," she said. She smiled, hugged me again, and I turned and left.

My phone rang at six forty-five. "It's Steve," I answered.

"Steve, Danielle." Her voice was happy and light.

"Hi, there! How are you?"

"Unchanged since this afternoon," she laughed. "You?" 

"Same, same. So...you have plans for this weekend?" 

"Maybe," she returned. "I forgot to ask you today...how's Beth?" 

"Ahhh...I hear she's fine. She left me this past December." 

"Aw Steve...I'm so sorry." her voice was sympathetic. "All alone then?" 

I smiled at that. "Yeah...yeah."

"Well, since that's the case," she said, "How about you come over for dinner?" 

"Tonight?"

"Sunday, she replied"

My reply was immediate. "What time and where?" She laughed. 

"Well, you didn't take much convincing. Um...four o'clock. _____ Park apartments, just off the pike, near Lincoln Avenue. You know where that is?" 

"Yes...it's about two miles from me." I hadn't known she lived so close. "Can I bring anything?" "Yes you can; white wine...cold. Your choice." 

"OK...I'll be fashionably late."

She was amused. "Not too late."

"I'll be there. See you."

"Goodnight Steve."

"Goodnight." I disconnected. Could it be that...? No, I thought. She's still thirty years younger than you, idiot. As lovely as she is...too much of a gap. I made a quick supper, watched some TV, and fell asleep.

I slept late on Sunday, as I usually do, rising about noon. Shit, shower, and shave; always in that order, following the advice of my long dead grandfather who believed there was no use washing your ass first if you were just going to immediately get it dirty again.

Around two-thirty, I went to the closet and chose from my summer wardrobe a black linen suit, aubergine shirt, and my favorite tie, a silk Brioni medallion in red and blue. I dressed carefully and slipped into my black loafers...no socks. I checked myself in the mirror...I looked good.

I left the house at three forty-five, the wine in a travel bag, encased in ice. The drive took only ten minutes, so I hung around for a few minutes at the market, looking over some gourmet cheeses buying nothing, but making mental notes for my shopping list.

I arrived at the apartments at four-ten and found Danielle sitting in the courtyard, leafing through Newsweek. She smiled when she saw me and rose in greeting. "Right on time," she remarked, and led me through the lobby to the elevators. "I'm on the top floor...it's a little difficult to explain how to get up there, so I thought it best to meet you down here."

"Good idea, then," I returned, and followed her into the car. She used a key to select her floor, and we were transported upward. "Danielle...you look lovely. That is a beautiful outfit."

"Thank you." Her clothes were indeed lovely. A cream blouse, low cut but fashionable, topped black silk pants. She had a simple gold chain around her neck, and wore matching anklets above a pair of black flats which whispered along the carpet as we walked to her door. "I love your suit," she smiled, "is that linen? It looks good on you."

"Good eye," I replied, "and thank you." We had reached her door. She turned the knob and we went in.

To say I was unprepared for what lay beyond the entrance to her apartment would be a gross understatement. I literally gasped. The room was incredibly and beautifully lit. The light seemed to come from all directions simultaneously.

Around the walls stood oak tables, waist high, upon which had been placed multitudes of stump candles, all lit, and backed by rosewood-framed mirrors, which gathered and amplified the light. I saw some table lamps, which were not lit. In fact, the only electric light that was on was a three foot by three foot ceiling fixture, dimmed to match the intensity of the candles. The room was awash in soft yellow light, and the effect was astonishing.

The floors were hardwood, red oak I guessed, and were decorated with Italian wool rugs in cream with blood-red trim. I caught a twinkling in my peripheral vision and turned to see the small dining table had been exquisitely set with what looked to be Lenox china, Baccarat crystal, and antique Oneida silver; not plate...solid silver flatware, polished to a high shine.

I looked at Danielle; I must confess my jaw had dropped open a bit. It was the most beautiful room I had ever seen, and I said as much.

"Thank you," she said. "I learned this from my mother. She was a decorator, and taught me how to properly light a room." She paused, smiling at my reaction. "I guess I achieved the desired effect."

"To impress a dinner guest? Effect achieved." I shook my head. I could have looked at the room for hours.

"Dinner is not quite ready, Steve. Would you like a drink? The bar is over there; and you can play bartender."

"I would, thank you. What would you like?"

"Whatever you're having is fine. I'll be back in a moment," she said as she disappeared behind the kitchen door.

I crossed the room and opened the small armoire that she had indicated. Another surprise; it had been converted into an efficient wet bar. Wine and champagne glasses hung from a rack on top; double rocks glasses and beer pints were off to the left on a small shelf, along with quarter-pint tasting glasses.

There was a tap for beer, and the hand-written label read "summer shandy," a personal favorite.

I scanned the bottles and found the selection included some of the finest and rarest spirits from the planet. Mansinthe Absinthe, Chartreuse, and Grand Marnier l'Orange dominated the liquers. Lamb's Navy Rum. Porfidio tequila, its distinctive green glass cactus thrusting upward from the base of the bottle. Hennessy brandy, 1936. Basil Hayden single barrel bourbon. I looked for the scotch and found three world class single malts; Bowmore 21, Laphroiag 18, and...Omigod... Cadenhead's Rosebank 1989, a 9 year old whisky that I had first tasted in Ottawa, Ontario. I selected that one, and measured two fingers each into double rocks glasses.

I crossed the room and knocked on the kitchen door. "May I enter?" "Of course," she replied. I handed her a glass and she inhaled its aroma. "Cadenhead's ...good choice, it's my favorite of all the malts." 

"Mine too. Wherever did you find this in the US?" 

She smiled. "I have a friend who smuggles it over from Canada." 

"That's where I first had it." I stuck my nose in the glass and breathed in the combined scents of barley, smoke and peat.

"Shall we have a toast?" she asked.

"Lets." We raised our glasses. "May the best of our pasts be the worst of our futures." 

"And to the good stuff," she replied, "may it last a long time." We clinked glasses and sipped.

"Ahhh," she sighed, "sweet nectar." 

"Yes," I replied, "very sweet indeed. Where did you learn about scotch?" 

"From my father. He was a collector, and would give me a taste now and then...much to Mother's

chagrin. I think she was afraid I'd become an alcoholic...but it turned me into a connoisseur." 

"I've heard it said that winos are simply connoisseurs who became obsessive." 

She laughed. "That's good...very funny." We sipped again, and she put down her glass. "Well! The salads are just about ready; there's a corkscrew on the bar; would you open the wine?" 

"Certainly. Um, I brought a Montrachet...hope that's all right." 

"Who made it?"

"Louis Jadot."

Her face mirrored her approval. "Excellent choice." She shooed me from the kitchen and I found the 'screw on the bar. The cork came free easily, and I poured a taster into a wine glass. Sipped and ap-proved . I placed the bottle in the filled icebucket, which rested on a sideboard near the table.

Danielle emerged from the kitchen bearing two small salad plates which rested on matching shallow bowls of crushed ice. "I've prepared a light, three course dinner. This is baby spinach, lightly steamed and soaked in a mushroom vinaigrette, with Roquefort cheese, sliced cucumber, and white radish. The main course is broiled salmon with black peppercorns, cracked of course, and buerre blanc. The third course is dessert...New York cheesecake. Hope you're hungry!" She smiled. I poured her a half glass of the Montrachet, and we dug in.

After dinner, which included much laughter and several sincere compliments on her prowess in the kitchen, we retired at her invitation to the conversation area. The candles were all still burning brightly, and I relaxed in the glow. "Danielle," I said, " I cannot remember the last time I had such a good meal. I simply don't cook this well, although I'm not a hack...but this was truly five-star."

"Did Beth not cook?" she asked.

"She wasn't as good as I was...she admitted that herself. Beth was more of a...nuker." 

"And you?" She was curious.

"I'm more of a creative chef...got that from my mom. 'Guess and Hope' was her lesson. 'If you start with good basics and don't skimp on the process, whatever you make will be good...or at least edible.' " We laughed at that, and I reflected on how enjoyable this all was. Great food, liquor...and company. I looked at Danielle fully. She is lovely, I thought, I wonder if she'd mind if I...Oh stop it! I again shouted to myself. She's young enough to be your daughter!. Nonetheless, I smiled at her.

She smiled back, then scrutinized me more closely. "You look tired, Steve," she analyzed. I can see it in your eyes."

"Long week," I admitted, "too many cases, most of them from one facility." 

"Maybe I can help." She was concerned.

"Um...I can't really discuss anything; confidentiality agreements and such." She shook her head, her

long hair swinging. 

"Not what I meant, Steve." She got up from her chair and moved behind me. "I meant this way." She gripped my shoulders with her hands and began to knead the tension from my muscles. Oh God, I thought, that feels so good. I closed my eyes and felt her move to my biceps, then back up to my shoulders. "Could you take off your jacket?" she asked. "And loosen your tie." I rose and complied. I was unsure where this was going, but was enjoying the physical contact. She had never touched me before, and her long fingers felt cool and soothing on my skin.




Danielle



Danielle resumed the massage, this time using her thumbs on the back of my neck. She went higher, then her touch lightened and she ran the backs of her fingernails lightly over the nape. I gasped at the sensation, and she stopped. "Are you okay, Steve? Did that hurt?"

My heart was beating faster. "No," I replied, "it's just that...well, you touched a very sensitive spot.."

"On your neck?" She did it again, provoking the same reaction.

"Yeah." My pulse increased again, and my breath was short. "That's it." Her nails were still there, stroking. Endorphins popped in my brain and I felt energized...relaxed and sensual at the same time. I felt my control wavering. "Stop...please stop." She didn't. "Danielle...please."

She ceased stroking. "What is that?" she asked, curious.

I couldn't answer at first, but after I caught my breath I replied, "It's a...well, an 'E-spot.' Like an energy point. It never works when I touch it myself, but when someone else does...well, you saw the reaction."

"Yeah," she said. Her voice expressed her awe at what she'd provoked in me. "It's almost like I turned you on. I've never seen that before."

"Well...you kind of did. That's why I asked you to stop; it was just too intense." My breathing had returned to normal.

Danielle looked at me for a very long moment, almost as if she were searching for something. "Steve?" she asked at length, "Would you mind very much if I kissed you?" I read her look as unsure.

I answered softly, "Would you like that?" There was an electricity in the air between us.

"Yes," she answered. I smiled, implying my permission. She leaned forward, brushing her lips on mine, then moved closer and made contact. The initial probing intensified as she gained confidence, and I raised my hand up to the back of her neck to welcome her closer. Danielle's lips parted and the kiss became wet. My own lips opened and I flicked my tongue against hers. Omigod, I thought, as I tasted pure fire. I was losing control again, my brain spinning. This isn't right..she's so young...and so...the thought trailed off as I surrendered to her tongue, surrendered fully to her embrace. Danielle moaned softly as our mouths danced. This was getting intense, and I pulled back a bit. Our eyes met again and I looked at her quizzically. "What?" she said. We were both breathing deeply.

"Wow," I replied, awestruck at this turn of events. "What the...what was that?" I smiled at her.

Danielle smiled in return and laughed, her voice husky. "Steve...you must know I've always liked you. Even from the first day we met. And I knew you liked me too...I'd catch you looking at me when you thought my attention was elsewhere." She paused. "But I knew. That's why I kissed you that day you brought me home...I couldn't help it, and I was so embarrassed afterward..."

"And I was with Beth..." I added.

"And you were with Beth...I didn't want to interfere with that...but I'd go home at night and think about how cool it might be if I ever got a chance to be alone with you."

"But I'm...Danielle, you must realize there's quite an age gap between us...nearly thirty years. I'm chronologically old enough to be your grandfather."

"Steve...I don't care about that; it doesn't matter to me, not in the least." I was perplexed. 

"Why?" I asked, "what makes it a non-issue for you?" She paused for a moment, and I could see she was sorting out her thoughts. "It has to do with the way I was raised," she said finally. She shifted her position so she was fully facing me. "I was raised in Manhattan," she began. "My parents were doing okay, just starting their own business...an art gallery...by the time I was ten, however, we were really well-off. I went to the Manhattan Free School from fourth through ninth grades, we had a penthouse on Park Avenue...you know the life." 

"Not from personal experience, but I get the picture," I returned. 

"The Free School was the most in-demand facility for families of means in New York City. So I grew up in this insulated environment...not that we were oblivious to the plights of others; we fed the homeless, helped with co-op gardens, campaigned for progressive candidates...stuff like that. But it was a privileged life.

"When I was twelve, I came home from school, upset. When my mother asked me what was wrong, I told her that some boys at school were bothering me...they would stare at me in the halls as I walked by, then 'high-five' each other. One of them had tried to kiss me...I just didn't want the attention, and I pushed him away. So I asked my mother what this was all about; you know, why they were behaving this way. She didn't immediately answer, but then she suggested we go out on Saturday...a little shopping, lunch at The Plaza...and we could talk about it." She paused as she reached for the wine bottle, pouring us each a fresh glass.

"So, after lunch, we were drinking iced tea and she let me in on a family secret, one that had been passed from mother to daughter in her family forever. She said, 'Danielle, I'm going to give you the best advice I can, and it's what your grandmother told me at your age: boys don't really grow up until they're about thirty-five or so. They don't really become men until that time, because their lives don't teach them anything about how to properly act towards a young lady. You've seen it already; it's like some secret club they have, with common or communal behavior, complete with rituals like the 'high-five' you saw in the hallway last week. This behavior they exhibit is brought on partially by puberty, partially by social pressure to conform to the rule of the pack. They're like young wolves at that age, and some never really grow out of it. You've seen it...guys on the street, dressed similarly, making rude comments about every female that crosses their paths. Now, you are young...and beautiful...so they are driven to show off for you; to be as obnoxious as possible in a crude attempt to gain your attention. But if you acknowledge the behavior...if you speak with them, or even just smile at them, it will be taken as a sign of your consent for the behavior to continue. And if you ignore them for too long, they will start saying rude things about you behind your back, or maybe even when you are in earshot. They will call you crude names in return for your rejection, and will never realize or admit that it was their behavior that earned your inattention.

'When they (and you) become older, these same boys who denigrated you will very politely start to ask you out on dates. You may consider it, you may even acquiesce now and then,,,but remember that these are the same boys that have never cared about your feelings...and they'll care even less now. Judge a young man on how he treats you on a regular basis, not just when he wants something from you. And what he wants...what all boys want...is sex.'

"I was stunned by this...of course, we had had 'The Talk' about human sexuality, and I had read books on the subject, so I wasn't totally naïve, but I asked her, 'What if I find a guy who I really like?'

'Honey...you will meet them...but they're not worth your time. I'm not saying don't date...but when it comes time to choose, choose an older man. Older men have experience...they will cherish your youth and your attentions far more than someone your own age. They will already have had a few (sometimes more than a few) relationships from which they have gained valuable experience. They'll be polite; open doors for you, help you with your chair at the dinner table; look at your father for a good example. He's seventeen years my senior. My father was twenty-five years older than your grandmother.

'Now, I know what you're thinking; what could you possibly have in common with a man who is a full generation ahead of you? Well, honey, you must prepare for that...study the cultures of the previous two generations. Listen to the music. Study the politics. Learn the values and credos of those eras. You won't need to immerse yourself in it, but you're very lucky in that the past twenty to thirty years have been culturally rich decades.' "

Danielle sipped her wine. "I was flabbergasted," she continued, "but I took her advice and boned up on that history. Not that I ignored the social changes and developing attitudes around me," she smiled sadly. "Unfortunately, both my parents died two years later. I was just fourteen."

"Oh, Danielle..that must have been devastating." 

She nodded. "It was. I cried forever. But the worst of it was that custody was awarded to my aunt and uncle here in ______ Park. So it was goodbye Manhattan, farewell to the cocoon of wealth. My parents left my aunt and uncle enough to see after my upbringing and a little over two hundred thousand as a 'thank you,' most of which they blew through in two years. They resented me for my trust fund; when I turned eighteen, I received an initial release of a half million for college. They tried hard to get me to give them some of that, claiming that the money left them by my parents didn't cover what it had actually cost to raise me over the past four years." 

"What did you do?" I asked, curious.

Danielle shrugged. "I hired a lawyer and moved out. They weren't amused. They still call me every week, acting all sweet, but it's like the boys in school...just an act." She drank more wine, and I refilled her glass. "Last year, I turned twenty-one and received the balance of the trust; eight and a half million dollars." She turned her attention fully on me. "Steve...look at me." I looked. She may have been just twenty-two years old, but was anything but a child. This was a cultured young woman, fully alive in her element.

"Steve," she began again, "you've had a hard life. You've been through a lot. You've worked every day, you've been cruelly treated by the women you've allowed into your heart...you're a romantic, I can tell...and I'm ready for some romance in my life. You deserve to have someone who will take care of you for the rest of your life. I have plenty of money...you won't need to work; of course you will probably choose to; it's part of your ethic...but you can eventually retire and relax. We could make a great life together. And when I kissed you...Steve...I can love anyone I wish. I could have any man in the world. But when I kissed you...I knew I had made the right choice." Her eyes dropped in that expression that had first captivated me three years earlier. "Steve," she said softly, her voice trembling, "I'm in love with you."

My mouth dropped open and my face betrayed my shock. This beautiful young woman was offering me a new lease on love. After Beth had left me, I never thought I would find real love again. But here was Danielle, a girl I had always been attracted to, a young lady that any man of any age would kill to be with...and this lovely creature was willing to love me and care for me forever. I was astounded (and immediately tempted to say yes) but common sense stepped in.

"Danielle," I asked, "are you proposing marriage to me?" Her reply was without hesitation of any sort. 

"Yes." She paused and put down her glass. "Marry me, Steven Fox." 

"Danielle..." I trailed off. "Can you give me a few moments to get my head around this?" She 

nodded. I could see she was nervous about my answer, and was worried I might reject her suit. There were certainly good reasons to say no; the age difference (doesn't matter to her), how our families might react (but does that really matter?) I addressed a half dozen serious concerns internally while staring at the half full wine glass in my hand. I rose from the sofa and walked toward the bar.

"Do you mind if I pour myself another drink?"

"No," she replied, "go ahead." I selected the Laphroaig 18 and poured a double. I turned toward the divan where Danielle sat, patiently awaiting a reply.

"You?" I offered.

"No, thank you." I sipped the fine scotch, savoring the flavors. Minutes ticked by. I returned to her. As I sat, Danielle looked at me. God, I mused, she is so very lovely. I could love this woman. I could love this woman forever. I made up my mind.

"Danielle...two things."

"Okay," she said, still nervous.

"First...I'm not saying no to you, but I think it's a fair statement that we barely know each other; as people, I mean. And to walk into this blindly would be foolish on both our parts. Would you agree?"

"I know what you mean...we should take some time and get to know one another."

"A lot of time," I corrected. "I'm willing to commit to that initially. We can talk, read, take long walks if you'd like...discover each other as individuals." I paused and organized my thoughts. "I am extremely attracted to you, Danielle...I always have been, just as you suspected. You are lovely; I think you are the most uniquely beautiful woman I have ever met. And your mother was right...I do value your youth. But you are intelligent and charming as well, and I think we'd make a great match. So I will give you a provisional 'yes' in response to your proposal...but there's one more thing we need to address, and we need to address it immediately." My tone was grave, and I was nervous.

"What?" she asked, equally nervous.

I smiled at her. "Young lady, if you ever...and I mean ever...kiss me like that again," I paused for effect, "I'm...just going to have to start taking off your clothes."

Danielle gasped and her face lit up. In an instant, her lips were on mine, her tongue in my mouth, searching for mine. But this time there was no apprehension...just pure, clean passion. She melted into my arms and I had no choice...I started to undress her. 

Danielle lifted her arms as I removed the cream blouse from her body, revealing a matching camisole. I looked down and saw for the first time the hint of her breasts, nipples hardened by excitement peaking the fine material. Her arms fell to her waist, and she began to undo the two buttons on the front of her pants. Once undone, the slacks whispered down her legs to the floor, where they were kicked aside. 

Our lips met again and our hands flowed over each others' bodies. My palms traveled below her waist, and she gasped in pleasure as I gripped her smooth ass through and then under the camisole. I pulled her closer to me; our mouths were wide open, our tongues entwined, and her left hand moved down the front of my pants, the palm flat as she massaged the growing bulge there. It was not long before the hardness became uncomfortable, and I stepped back to take off my own slacks. Her hands stopped me. "Let me," she whispered, her voice shaking. She expertly undid my belt and nearly ripped the button off. She then undid the zipper and dropped to her knees to slip off my shoes. 

Danielle then lowered my pants to the floor, and was surprised that I wasn't wearing anything underneath. "I haven't worn any in years," I explained, "too constrictive." She smiled at that and rose to help me take off my shirt. I was now naked except for my socks, and she ran her hands over my chest, feeling the smooth musculature and probing lower, over my abdomen, her fingertips whispering through my pubic hair. I was rock-hard by this time and thought that if she even touched me I was going to explode all over her pretty clothes...and I wanted this never to end.

Danielle's breathing had deepened to the point where she was nearly gasping, and she was shifting her weight from foot to foot in her excitement. I pushed her away slightly and slipped the straps of the camisole off hershoulders, causing it to fall away and puddle around her waist. For the first time, I saw her breasts, firm and creamy, capped by delicate, chocolate-pink nipples that were as hard as I was. I ran the back of my fingers over them, and Danielle threw her head back and gasped aloud, her eyes closed, her long neck exposed. I leaned forward and kissed her throat, then gathered her in my arms and ran my palms down her back to the waistband of her lace underwear. Her legs unhinged at my embrace, and I leaned down, putting one arm behind her knees and the other behind her back. She wrapped her arms around my neck, and I felt her fingers return to that spot on my nape, lightly stroking. 

"Please, Steven, "she whispered, "take me to bed."

"Yes, ma'am," I whispered back, and she softly laughed. I carried her feather-light body into the bedroom, leaving the door open so that the candlelight streamed in from the other room. She stopped me near the doorway, reaching out to press a dimmer switch on the wall, which turned on the small chandelier above us. Once she had set the intensity to her liking, I proceeded to the queen sized bed and gently sat her at the edge.

Immediately grasping my shaft, Danielle steered me so that I was positioned in front of her. Her lovely face was on the same level as my waist ad she urged me to move forward and closer to her. Very gently, she stroked the hard organ and milked drops of clear fluid from the tip. Opening her mouth, Danielle then extended her tongue and spread that moisture over the head, her fingers still cool on the shaft as she urged more drops from my body. I gasped as I watched her do this, mostly from passion, but partly from surprise at my reaction. I had never in my life been an advocate of women performing oral sex on me; although most clearly enjoyed the act in the same way that I did when using my tongue on them, but I had always viewed it as a demeaning act and found that it turned me off. But with Danielle it was very different; she was simply and wholly doing it to give me pleasure, and I found myself truly enjoying her making love to me in this fashion. 

As I looked down at her working on my cock, I saw her left hand moving at her groin, slowly circling her clitoris. She was moaning as she masturbated, and I could see that the coverlet beneath her was becoming soaked. Her mouth engulfed the head, and I felt her smooth tongue moving back and forth on the underside, gathering speed and gradually increasing suction. My pulse quickened and I moaned aloud, gasping as I felt the pressure build. Her free hand made contact with and lightly cupped my scrotum. I could hold back no longer and thrust my hips forward, crying out as I exploded in her mouth. Danielle came at the same moment, and I felt her hot juices splatter against my thighs as she herself ejaculated.

Danielle kept up the pressure as my orgasm subsided, teasing the now ultra-sensitive head and underside with occasional flicks of her tongue. The effect was a pleasure that was almost too intense to bear, and she was also able to keep me erect; in a way she was saying, 'Ready for round two?' She placed her slippery hands on my buttocks and pulled me closer, her lips going further down my shaft until she had fully half my cock in her mouth. She hadn't swallowed yet, and I could feel my shaft surrounded by my load, warm and slippery. She pulled back as I moaned and gasped, looking very satisfied with the result; it was then she allowed my semen to slide down her throat, with just a drop of white left at the corner of her lips.

I couldn't believe how hard I remained, and although it was partly due to her lovely mouth and tongue; it was also simply because it was her. The repressed tension between us was abating, and the love we were making was the spark on which an unending fire would be built.

Danielle looked up at me, her eyes shining in the semi-dark, and slid backward away from the wetness on the bed. I climbed up with her to the center as her smooth thighs parted and I could see her fully. Not a hair sullied her baby-smooth skin, still glistening with her ejaculation. The inside of her upper thighs were shiny and inviting, and I wasted no time using my tongue to lick them clean. She moaned softly as I traced her crevice, thrusting her hips up as I made contact with her clitoris. I pulled back and gently blew on the bud, teasing it to fill erection, thrilling as it throbbed with her pulse. She gasped and giggled, writhed and moaned as I loved her with my mouth as she had done me.




Danielle



Once I had her on the verge of orgasm, she applied gentle pressure to the top of my head to push me away. I looked at her with a question in my eyes and she nodded. "Please, Steven," she gasped, "please..." I looked at her again, fascinated by the sight of her abdominal muscles rippling as her pleasure teetered on the precipice. One more touch, even one more breath of air would be all it would take. She spread her legs as far apart as they would go. She was ready.

I rose to my knees and sat back on my haunches, reaching behind her to cradle the small of her back and draw her hips toward me. Our thighs made contact and I grasped my cock. I lowered the head and flicked it across her clit. She arched her back and immediately came, crying out, liquid oozing from her and wetting another part of the bed. I could see her entrance pulsating and timed my first thrust to when her tunnel was tightest. She clamped down even harder as a second orgasm washed through her, and I could feel her walls rippling as I penetrated deeper, until I could go no further. The head of my cock had found her womb's entrance, and for a moment we held our position as this new pleasure consumed us both. And in the midst of that, as I felt my control starting to go, something truly amazing happened.

Danielle's eyes flew open and she arched her back, drawing me in further than my experience would allow me to believe was possible. She screamed aloud as she came a third time, far more intensely than the others, and her cervix opened wide and swallowed the head of my raging cock. I was stunned and frozen with this new sensation. I could feel her womb spasmodically sucking on the head, as if trying to draw liquid from my body into hers. My mouth opened wide in awe, and I felt the electricity throughout my entire body as the orgasm was ripped from me. The liquid that shot from me was more volatile than jet fuel, and it pumped directly into Danielle's womb. 

She felt it too, and the jets of hot semen triggered a series of orgasms so intense that she lost control of her musculature. Her abdomen rippled and clenched and her legs simultaneously tried to pull me deeper and push me away. One heel grazed my chin, and I grabbed her calves and held them until she calmed, which seemed like forever as time stretched out. Her head whipped side to side, her hair flinging droplets of sweat through the air to land on the carpeting.

I was gasping for breath (we both were) as I continued to ooze semen into the deepest part of her. Danielle's eyes slowly regained some semblance of focus, and she gazed up at me, her mouth frozen in a position of disbelief. I could still feel her cervix, its motion slower now, working on my softening member. Slowly, reluctantly, I eased out of her, taking care to exit at a safe angle. She gasped again as I pulled away, and I could feel her tunnel clamp down on me again, her body asking me not to go.

A light sheen of sweat covered my body. I could feel the droplets coalescing into rivulets and running down my face and chest, dropping onto my thighs as I softened inside her. My cock withdrew finally, and small droplets of our mixture appeared at her entrance, shining in the candlelight. Danielle looked magical, her breathing steady and deep, the sheen of sweat on her breasts, her nipples still erect. She sat up suddenly, her mouth finding mine, our arms wrapping around each other, kissing me deep as she mewled in satisfaction. Breaking the kiss, she lay her head on my shoulder and whispered, "I knew it would be this good...I knew you were the One. I love you, Steven."

My heart melted entire, and I could only say the same. "I love you, Danielle." We collapsed then in sated exhaustion and did not wake until dawn, both of us sticky and very happy.

True to our mutual promise, we spent most of our free time together from that point on. We took long walks, always hand in hand, shared our love of literature, good music, fine food and drink. We talked for hours, it seemed, discussing politics and society, the arts; everything, in fact. 

We arranged to have dinner with my entire family, during which all three of my sisters managed to get me alone to ask why I was with a girl who was younger than they were. "Once you get to know her," I replied, "believe me: you'll get it. Go...talk to her" They did, and smiled their collective approval over coffee and dessert. Danielle, of course, charmed my parents, talking earnestly with my mother about politics and half-flirting with my dad, who shed twenty years in her eyes.

Having passed through the familial gauntlet, we returned to her place and giggled our way through their reactions, eventually progressing to kisses and love, keeping our fire burning brightly.

And, although we rarely could capture the intensity of that first time (who could?) we discovered each other to be attentive, curious, and inventive lovers, always seeming to find that moment when we ceased to be individuals, melding into one person.

Barely nine weeks after our relationship began, Danielle met me on at the door one Wednesday evening and, with happy tears in her eyes, told me she was pregnant. My mouth dropped open...but I never hesitated. I grabbed her and hugged her as tight as I could, letting her feel my joy at her news. And of course, we ended up in bed.

We married the following month, privately, with just two witnesses. A month later, we arranged a large reception for our families at the _______Valley Sheraton. I finally met her aunt and uncle, who were exactly the piranhas she had described, audaciously asking her for money while she and I were dancing. Danielle ducked her head, embarrassed, shook her head in answer, and they stormed out. We never saw them again if we could help it.

Our daughter was born eight months later, and we named her Michelle Theresa, after Danielle's mother and mine. Michelle's sister came two years later, and was named Joni Page, after Joni Mitchell, my favorite singer, and guitarist Jimmy Page. Ah, my rock n roll roots.

All this happened a decade ago. I sold my house before the wedding and moved into Danielle's palatial apartment. I continued to work, as she had foreseen, but retired shortly before Joni's birth. I write, short stories mostly, and participate full time in the raising of our children. Danielle is still just as lovely as when we married, and we are incredibly happy. We walk through this amazing life together.

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