Page 408 of S is for SEX

ERIK. It was cool for the middle of the month. Typically, in July, the weather would be in excess of one hundred degrees. It was eighty degrees and ten-thirty in the morning, but the forecast called for a high of eighty-five degrees. It had been a fabulous summer for riding motorcycles. We had received more rain than normal, and the lakes and rivers were full of water for once after about ten consecutive years of some form of a drought. The rain that we had received was mostly at night and had not hindered riding, as most days had been sunny after the previous night’s rain.

She smiled as she stepped over the small stone wall into the patio area. As soon as I saw her approach, I stood. Walking her direction, I opened my arms to welcome her. Greetings and departures for me always included a hug. Male or female companions received the same thing from me. If someone wouldn’t hug me, I was never comfortable that they were genuine.

“How’s my Baby Girl?” I asked as we embraced.

“I love it when you call me that,” she responded.

“I know you do, Kelli. I know you do.”

“I’m great, now,” she said, stepping back and scrutinizing my attire.

“You dress so simple, but you always look so good,” she said, chuckling as she said the word ‘good’.

“Thank you, Kelli. I appreciate the compliments.”

As always, I had worn a dark tee shirt and dark jeans. The tee shirt fit tight to my body, but was not a tight tee shirt. One of my pet peeves was to see a guy that wore what we always had jokingly called a shmedium shirt, a cross between a small and a medium. Clearly, most who wore a shmedium shirt needed a large. My shirts fit tight because of my body structure and not because I bought them smaller than what I wore.

“I love the way you smell. You always smell the same. The other day at work, a guy walked past me, and he was wearing that cologne, Yves Saint Laurent. The L’Homme. I actually got mad, because he smelled like you. I didn’t change how I felt when I smelled it.”

“How was that, Kelli?”

“You know,” she responded.

“No, I want you to tell me. Tell me, Kelli.”

“Oh, God. Well, I…I started thinking of you. Just, I suppose, in general. But my thoughts about you are always thoughts that end up in the gutter,” she said, smiling.

She was wearing shorts, a tee shirt, and Chucks. Girls in canvas sneakers, especially Converse Chucks made me weak. I always found the canvas sneakers to be a tremendous turn-on; probably to the same degree that most men perceived girls in high heels. Chucks, to me, were the same as an eight inch come fuck me pump. As I admired her outfit, I realized we were still standing by the wall.

“Let’s sit, Kelli. I have already ordered for us both,” I said as I took a step in the direction of the table.

I walked toward the table to sit down and pulled out a chair for her. I walked to the other side of the table and sat, crossing my legs. As we began to talk, I watched her mouth move, her lips form words, and her hands move as she spoke - making gestures to compliment the verbal communication she offered.

“I love listening to you speak, Kelli. The silence between your words annoys me. I prefer that you speak constantly and never stop. Something about hearing you talk comforts me or turns me on. Or both.”

“I’m glad you like to hear me talk. It makes me feel good that you say that, whether or not you mean it,” she responded.

“Kelli, let me tell you something. If I say something to you, I mean it. Always. I have no reason to tell you something that isn’t true. Do you understand me?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said, looking down at her feet as she responded.

“Come here, Kelli,” I said in a sharp tone, pointing to the area beside my chair.

She promptly stood from the chair, and walked to where I had pointed. Standing on my right side, and looking at me with disappointment, she tried to speak. When she opened her mouth, words didn’t immediately form. She coughed and began to try to speak again.

“I’m sorry,” she offered, looking down at me as I sat in my chair.

“Bend down here, Kelli,” I said in a soft yet demanding tone.

As she bent at the waist, lowering her head to my level, I turned toward her. I reached up, placing my right hand on the back of her neck, and slid it to her hair line. Grasping her neck slightly, I pulled her head close to my mouth and turned it to my left, exposing her left side to my face. With my left hand, I reached across her face and moved her hair over the top of her ear. I began to speak into her ear, breathing in an exaggerated form, forcing my breath into her ear as I spoke.

“Kelli, who owns you?” I asked.

“You do, Erik. You do, sir,” she responded, exhausting herself of breath as she spoke.

“That’s right, I do. Now, Kelli, what are you going to do when I ask you to do something?” I asked, my lips lightly touching her ear as I spoke. I reached around her with my left hand and placed my hand on her upper thigh, directly under her shorts. I cupped her thigh with my left hand, squeezing lightly.

“Do it,” she said as her knees bent.

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