My new friend and I talked for almost a full hour, I beginning the perfect listener, while I comfortably let her do most of the talking. I could see t...at my powers of seduction had not been wasted with this lonely woman. Her breathing was long and heavy, her nipples obviously pointing in this warm environment, her hand almost constantly holding mine. But it was her eyes that told me the tale, when this lady was open to a suggestion of love.I was pleasantly surprised when she suggested we go. .I mean, no. The tiramisu or the Oreo?” “Ha-ha, both. Rain, release it doll,” he said as his innocent smile melted into a devilish grin. An orgasm was not in the plans. I wanted to ride on the edge...and Jon knew it. So, I responded, “Nuh huh.” I picked up my fork, sliced a sliver of cake, and slid it in my mouth. Insistent, Jon responded by pressing the flat of his palm into my vulva. He moved his hand back and forth; he fingered my vee and plucked my clit with more determination than ever.. And he saw.“Sorry if I went too far,” he apologized. “Or, did I not go far enough?”At that point, I somehow broke out of my shell. Next thing I remember was making out by his pool before he broke away.“I should get you home soon. It’s almost 7. I’m going to get some pants and a shirt on. I’ll be right back.”He left me there, dazed at the burgeoning possibility I might soon be getting it on with a dude. He returned a short while later wearing a tee, cargo shorts, and sandals. Still. The next morning, I woke up early and gathered all my stuff before he woke up. I took the bus home smelling like Jack Daniels and cigarettes, and avoided everyone’s eyes. I took a long, hot shower, scrubbed every bit of myself, and fell asleep for the rest of the morning. When I woke up, I had about ten worried texts from Josh asking me if I was okay, where I want, how I got home, and if I was upset at him. Putting on my best “hungover” voice, I called him back. He was freaking out. I explained.
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Elvira smiled, glanced back at the picture before us and then looked at me again. ‘Art classes at school rarely inspire anyone…?’ ‘Jerry.’ I
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