Page 21 of Melt With You

And then she saw his cock. Hard and naked and ready for her. She put her fist around the length, and jacked him once, softly, to get a feel for what he liked, before bringing her mouth to the head. His skin was silky, so sweet in her palm.

So real.

Dori closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the taste of his skin. Like summertime. Like memories that had been fading up on the top shelf of her closet. She was blowing a boy in his van and, fuck, she had to be dreaming. A dream. A dream. A dream. She could tell herself that over and over, as the warmth of his flesh met her mouth, as the scent of his body took her over. His black jeans were scratchy against her face. When she used her fingertips to push his black T-shirt up, she saw the muscles on his flat stomach, saw the turquoise tail end of a tattoo disappearing around the side of his waist. What was the full image? A scorpion?

The minute details seemed to take over her mind. As she sucked him, she stared at a tear on the side of the driver’s seat. A ragged rip in the tan fabric where she could see a bit of foam beneath, foam the color of fresh egg yolk.

Who saw details like that in their dreams? Hers were generally hazy. She’d remember snippets. Friends appearing and then disappearing. A rock star she liked showing signs of interest, before fading away. She couldn’t remember ever having a dream this intense, one that felt this true.

The boy grabbed the back of her hair, twining his fingers in the glossy strands, and she heard him sigh, heard him swallow hard. He liked what she was doing to him. That made her even wetter than she had been so far. She turned in the seat to get more comfortable, snaking one hand between her own legs to feel her arousal through her panties. Oh, yes. Very wet.

‘Don’t stop,’ the boy said, his voice shaking. ‘Please don’t stop –’

He didn’t continue the sentence, and she realized that was because he didn’t know her name. But she didn’t care. She continued in her mission, bobbing her head on his shaft, taking more and more in with each thrust.

‘Oh, God,’ he said next. ‘Baby, that is so fucking good.’

She’d always loved it when a man called her ‘baby.’ So maybe this was a dream after all. She was adding in the elements that always turned her on the most. Had she ever had a wet dream before? Had she ever had an X-rated dream that made her come? Because now he was pulling her off him, helping her to sit up once more, slipping her dress up and her panties aside. He ran his fingertips over her pussy, and she sucked in her breath at the sensation. She thought he would go fast, thought he would want to rip her knickers down and drive inside of her, but he didn’t.

He seemed shocked by her Brazilian. She didn’t usually go for such a complete wax job, but she’d been hoping on hooking up with Rowan, and Violet had egged her on to go for a clean sweep. Luke hadn’t been surprised in the least to find her totally bare. So many women followed this trend that the look had become standard. But this boy was mesmerized. Had he never seen a girl completely shaved? Had there been Brazilians in the 80s?

No, she thought not. When had she first heard of this type of thorough wax job? Her brow furrowed for a moment, while she tried to remember, and then, once more, she had to stop thinking as lust took over.

‘Do you have something?’ the boy asked, ‘I don’t. I mean, I wasn’t expecting …’ and she blinked for a moment, not understanding the query, then reached into the side of her purse. Thanks to Violet, she did. She handed over the foil packet, watched him stare at the square for a moment before expertly tearing it open. ‘Never seen one like this,’ he said, and she realized Violet had given her one of those new-fangled condoms, a type created for a woman’s pleasure, a style that didn’t even exist in the 80s, as if ‘women’s pleasure’ hadn’t been an important part of condom sales.

‘They’re new,’ she said immediately, ‘only available in New York, I think.’

The boy slid the condom on easily while she kicked off her panties, then positioned her just right, so that she was astride him, and she gripped onto the headrest behind him, and worked her body up and down. She knew that people would be able to see them through the windows, but she didn’t care. That fact made the act even more exciting.

She’d be the one on display now, she thought. Not Gael and Bette. She was the one in the window. Up and down she went, riding on him, doing all the work. He sat back and gazed at her, then ran one hand along the hollow of her throat, and she bit down on her bottom lip and groaned.

Fuck, it felt good. So good. Too good.

When she came, she knew – she knew for a fact – that this was no dream.

Afterwards, he took her for a bite. The only place close by that was still open was McDonalds, but Dori didn’t mind. She was ravenous, couldn’t remember when she’d actually last eaten. Could it possibly have been the night before? How had she managed to make it through the day without food? The boy looked admiringly at her when she ordered – Big Mac, fries, vanilla shake. There were no salads on the menu. No yogurt and granola parfaits. No bottled water. That was a shock. When she asked for water, the girl behind the counter handed her over a paper cup filled from the tap. Still, she didn’t have a ladylike appetite, and her impromptu dining partner seemed to appreciate this fact.

But if he were surprised by her order, she was the one who was surprised when they got their food. The portions were so much smaller than those in her time. There was no option to Super-Size, no 32-ounce anything. Still the burgers were heavenly, the ‘special sauce’ tasting more gourmet than anything she could imagine eating in New York. She and the boy ate them in near silence, both famished, sharing sips of a vanilla milkshake that was the most delicious taste Dori could imagine.

Was it odd that they weren’t talking? Dori didn’t know. She still felt lightheaded, but not uncomfortable. Had she ever experienced a one-night stand like this? Not since college. Maybe this is what her life was lacking. Excitement. Outrageousness. Adventure.

She kissed his cheek when he dropped her at the car, calling him Ozzy with a wink, wondering if she’d ever see him again.

Back home, Dori walked slowly into her old bedroom. She took off her dress, then slid into the oversized T-shirt she found under the pillow. Feeling like a sleepwalker, she put one of her new albums on the turntable, balanced the 17 cents of change on the arm required to keep the needle from skipping, then curled up in her own bed for the first time in twenty years. She stared up at the multitude of tiny cracks in her ceiling, lines she’d always envisioned created maps of imaginary lands, and wondered if she’d fallen through one of those cracks.

How had she gotten here? How had this happened?

Finally, she tucked her hands under her head and breathed in deep.

It could have been worse, she decided, in those last misty moments right before sleep took her over. She could have woken up in the 70s.

Chapter Ten

The click-click of the needle skipping over the paper label was the first sound she heard. Dori lay in bed, eyes closed, the noise startlingly familiar, even though she hadn’t heard that sound for two decades. What record had she put on the turntable before shutting her eyes? Dark Side of the Moon. Her musical tastes had definitely impressed Ozzy the night before. What had he said over their late-night snack? Thank fuck she hadn’t been buying a Tiffany album or one by The Bangles.

Did she look really like that sort of girl?

Sitting up in bed, she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror over her dresser.

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