He/She is Typing Pt. 02

"I would've sworn you left already," he says, plopping on the couch next to me.

"Should I have?"

"Hell no. I would've come sooner if I'd known for sure you were still here."

"Aha. Well, we have Katie to thank for that," I say. "I'll be her ride tonight. See, now you have a reason to like her."

"I've always kind of liked her. She's hilarious, in her own cynical way."

"Aw. I'll tell her you said that. The 'kind of' excluded."

"I'll just wait here for you to want to dance again."

"Do you want to get stepped on some more?" I ask.

"No, I just want to be seen dancing with you. Makes me the envy of the ball."

I smile and close my eyes again, just as a delicious gust of wind bathes my neck and shoulders from behind. A light excitement bubbles up. Before I know it I'm back on my feet, tightly surrounded with people and locked in eye contact with Alan. An upbeat Latin song starts playing and my stomach leaps. I'd been fearing it. Hoping for it, too. Alan goes in for contact much sooner than he had before. I feel his big hand on my waist, the other in my own hand. I feel his knuckles, the hair on his wrist. He twirls me again, outwards then inwards, my chest pressing up against his every new time we collide. Rinse and repeat. My hair flails about, repeatedly covering half my face and forcing me to shake it off. I step on his feet again, twice, which we find funnier that we should.

I know that what's on my mind is also on his. This is where we thought things were headed before. We then interrupted that collision course, yet here we are once more. I'll stop it again, I tell myself. I just need the taste. I keep the dance going, I keep moving, very ok with the fact that his hand on my waist is pressing harder than before. I refrain from holding onto his arms just as tightly. The music turns slower, but he doesn't let up. We're closer, tighter than ever... but all the initiative is his. I'm afraid he'll feel discouraged and that this will be the last of it for us, for good this time. A thought that I've had more and more as we reach the end of December revisits me. The fact that this has been such a lousy year. So empty. Like it didn't count, and I've lost more than I gained.

I venture a hand past his neck and onto the back of his head. I feel his warm, sweaty hair between my fingers. Then his thumb starts tracing my bottom lip. So pleasantly ticklish. With every passing moment I wonder if I've reached the point of no return. Yet I don't want to go back to the couch knowing that nothing happened. I just don't. I realize that with smooth simplicity. His blue eyes are now closer than they've ever been. There's no need to think about the future. No need for it at all.

His mouth lands on me and his beard along with it. The softness of his lips slides over the softness of mine... and that's all we do for a moment. We just feel. Then he closes the kiss with a gentle contraction, and that could have been the end of it, and I would've left that dance floor with my most thrilling memory of the past few months. But he goes in for more. His hand goes to my lower back and he pushes me closer with an eagerness that tells me he's been pining for this for too long. So have I. It grows hungrier, wetter, and I get to taste him just as well as he does me. By the end it turns into a fully open-mouthed affair. And then, with a rushed, loud smack, it's over. He quickly looks around. I do the same.

I swallow. I see him lick his lips, which were left wet and glistening. We're both panting. He's looking down at me, but I can't bring myself to look up. This is it right here. The point of no return.

Just when I think he's about to say something, he softly lays two little pecks on my forehead. The perfect follow-up. I finally hold onto his arms the way I've been wanting to.

"I'm sorry," he says, close to my ear.

"No," I reply. "Hey. Don't be."

"No?"

"No." We've become the deadest couple on the floor, our dancing now amounting to slow swaying in each other's arms. I don't want to go back to the couch. If I do, the bubble will burst, and I know that I'll let it. I'll go back to reason, and reason would have me back in my car and on the road, headed home. Whereas madness, it's never seemed friendlier.

"Do you want to go upstairs?" I ask. I feel my belly trembling. I know he'll understand what I mean.

"No, wait," I add, contemplating the risk of running into Katie. "My car."

"Your car?"

"Yeah. Meet me there."

"Where is it parked?"

I explain the exact location of it and offer him the keys. He says I should go first. I tell him he could get lost and I'd be left waiting in the car. He asks, half-serious, what why I would assume he's got such a bad sense of direction. That we can still find laughs in this soothes me. Things remain the same, so they remain easy.

"Let's go together," he says behind me. "You go ahead and I'll follow."

Just before we reach the porch I see, out the corner of my eye, Sergio, whom I know casually from my kids' school and whom I know to be Alan's roommate. He doesn't notice me, but he leaps boisterously at Alan.

"Theatre boy!" I hear behind me. He'll keep Alan busy for a while. I just keep on walking.

When I reach my car, the two valets are busy on the other end of the backyard. I get in through the back door and quickly close it behind me - and suddenly there's silence and I'm by myself, with myself. I listen to my own breathing for a while. Repeated attempts to control the trembling of my belly are a lost cause. I've decided to commit wholeheartedly to what's about to happen. No point doing it any other way. I somehow know exactly what to do. I have two sun shades in the car and two is all I need, as the view from the rear window is covered by the tall pick-up truck parked behind me, while on the right there's a solid wall of shrubs. I lay one across the windshield so that it's perfectly covered, and the other I keep at the ready.

After fifteen-or-so minutes I finally see Alan coming. But he's approached by a valet.

"Will you be taking your car out, sir?"

"No. No, I'm just gonna get something. From the glove compartment."

He opens the unlocked door to the driver's seat, gets a knee in and stretches towards the glove compartment. Half-hidden from view, I see the valet lingering behind him, probably suspicious.

"Pass me the keys, pass 'em," Alan mumbles to me. I do that, suppressing my laughter. Alan slides back out, closes the door and audibly lock it with the remote.

"Got it, thanks." I see him walk back towards the house... then he turns back around. He remote-unlocks it again. The valet, now appeased, simply ignores him this time. Alan opens the back door and quickly slides in. I'm laughing hard even before his door is closed.

"That took long," he says, chuckling himself. "Sergio would not shut up. Every time I tried to go he kept yanking me back and pushing a beer on me. I had to stay with them until they went back inside."

"Ooh, a beer. Sounds awesome. Go get me one."

"Yeah, I'll get right on that," he replies. The laughing slowly dials down to zero and silence sets in. It's what I wanted. It makes my heart thump at top speed. This silence is easily the most sensual music of the evening.

"Come here," I say in a whisper. I lay a hand on the back of his neck and pull him towards me, eager - all too eager - to feel his mouth on mine again. I hear my own soft moan as we lock lips again with an urgency that I have to actively keep under control. He responds in kind, and it's never been clearer how much, and for how long, we've wanted one another exactly where we are right now. The car fills with the sounds of kissing and heavy breathing. His tongue dances with mine and I smell the perfect blend that is his cologne and the musk from an evening at a sweaty party. With him leaning back on his side and me kneeling on the seat over him, I give my hands free reign upon his chest and his perfectly full arms, kneading the flesh of both until I can imagine them red. His own hands find their way to my hips and then - slowly, as if it was necessary - my ass. He squeezes to his heart's delight, covering every angle. His mouth abandons mine and swiftly moves to my neck, where the prickling of his beard triggers a hodgepodge of evocations that cover everything from suppressed sexual fantasies to my childhood.

I move my right knee to the area between his legs so as to expand my center of gravity. During the breather, Alan notices the sunshade at his feet.

"Did you need this for something?" he asks breathlessly. Something had been poking at the back of my mind and this was it.

"Fuck. Yes I did."

He unfolds it and places it himself across both left-side windows. I'm parked in a pretty corner, but the sunshade certainly completes the perfect picture. As I see him do it, I'm suddenly overcome by a joyous certainty: this is someone I can afford to give all of myself to. Be what I haven't been in a long while. He turns back to me and kisses me tenderly with his hands on both sides of my face. I take great pleasure in slowly opening his mouth with mine and drawing thickly wet sounds from a full-fledged entwining of tongues. We laugh softly into each other's mouths. In my horny state, this is simply the perfect kiss. I lower myself to a level where my crotch can be in contact with his right thigh and as he keeps working my neck I start to softly grind against him. I gasp as the effect on my labia keeps building with each new back-and-forth.

The windows fog up. It would now be hard to see into the car even without the sunshades. I encourage Alan's fondling of my breasts by placing a hand over his to guide it. He takes his face to them and sucks on one through the black fabric of my top. He then starts pulling it up. I wasn't set on how far we'd be going... but this I second-guess for a moment. He senses it and stops, even though I was ready to let him. I keep guiding his fondling until he presses his face square between them. I run my fingers through his sweaty hair once more.

Outside, a very loud group has gathered just steps from our door. Alan pulls away, now nervous. I don't let his mind wander for long. I steal his mouth again just as my hand finds his cock, tightly pressed beneath his jeans. It's so hard that I can even feel the head through the thick fabric. I let my legs slide to the floor and - slowly, so as not to shake the car even a smidge - I move towards his belt buckle.

"Oh God," he whispers. He wasn't expecting it. Outside, the group says their goodbyes amid loud bursts of laughter. It's now Alan's turn to run his fingers through my hair as I undo his belt and unbutton his jeans. He lifts his butt off the seat in a comically slow manner to allow me to slide them down. I can only suppress a snicker. He shushes me while trying not to laugh himself, tortured by the loudness of his clinking belt buckle.

With his pants down to his ankles, I'm met by the sight of his strong and hairy thighs, which I'm quick to slide my hands over. In this light, his boxers-covered portion is just a plain black rectangle. My hand finds his covered cock again, warm under the thin cloth. I run my fingers over all the contours. I even find the wet spot on the tip. He pulls the boxers down to his hips and I take them the rest of the way.

I see his cock for the second time. It's not pixels on a screen anymore. About two fists' worth and a little extra in length, thick enough that my thumb and index barely meet around it. And so warm. I preface with a series of kisses on his thighs, the sexy scent of sex growing stronger the closer I get to it. It makes me salivate. Holding it in place, I give it one long lick along the side. It gets saltier towards the tip. I lick the side again, kiss it, fill it with saliva as I move up. With my eyes closed, I let the glans rub lightly over my lips and nose, smearing myself with precum all over. The conversation outside dwindles and is soon replaced by the thumps of closing car doors and the starting of engines.

I glance up at him and find him looking exactly how I want to. His brow deeply furrowed, as if dealing with his lust took an active muscular effort. With his eyes set on mine, I give the tip of his cock a kiss-like suck, soaking it with saliva and charging my taste buds with even more data. My tongue swirls all over the surface. The teasing goes on for a few more beats until I finally allow the top half of his cock to slide into my mouth. I keep it there for a long moment. Then I go in for another dunking. And another. I keep the rhythm slow, loving the texture of the veins, the glans, the foreskin stretching and contracting. At one point he places his hand on my head and gently starts guiding me. I eventually pull out for a breather, moving locks of hair out of my face before deciding to comb it all backwards like a mane. My panties feel soaked in warmth, to the point where I'm worried it'll show through. While I rest, Alan keeps his own fire alive by stroking himself, just inches from my face. The sight pumps me with adrenaline. I run my hand along his navel and slide his shirt upwards, exposing a hairy abdomen that I would kiss if I were better positioned. I caress his bare thighs, hips and stomach while he masturbates for me. Then I take him back in. As far in as my throat a couple of times. I start using my teeth, letting them lightly graze the glans every time he slides out. He gasps but I can tell the sensitivity works in his favor... so much so that I realize I can make him finish just by staying in that area. I limit the sucking to the glans, with special emphasis on the inner edges, and simply let loose, knowing that any kind of stimulus will do the job at this point. His breathing grows more and more intermittent - until a load of hot semen starts spilling all over my tongue. Alan's hips rise up to meet me as he lets out a breathless groan, his head tilts backwards. I keep sucking until every last drop of his orgasm is out of him. Then I swallow and let his cock slide out. It bounces once or twice on its spot, glistening, happily spent.

"Are you ok?" is the first thing Alan finds to say.

"How do you mean?"

"I mean being on the floor. Are... aren't your legs cramping?"

"A little. I'm frankly more worried about getting these white pants dirty." I take his hand and pull myself back onto the seat. He pulls his pants back up, punctuating every movement with clinking from his belt. I wipe my lips. I imagine he's having trouble thinking of the right thing to say or figuring out exactly what it is I need to hear. I'm sure that I'd be just as stunted after an orgasm, with the high now gone. But it's certainly not gone yet for me. Once it is, it'll all come crashing down. There's no doubt that I'll regret this once I'm back in this car alone and headed home. I know that. But I'll keep it at bay as long as I can.

The flash of his phone camera goes off - for a photo that he just took of himself. He grins at my puzzled look.

"I'm always gonna be jealous of who I am right now. And where I am this instant. I needed a picture of it."

"Oh wow. You actually found it," I say.

"Found what?"

"The right thing to say. And to do, for that matter. Well, one of several. You could have picked any of them, but that was pretty good."

"Were you doubting I would?"

"I mean, you have your moments," I say. "But sometimes they're... dumb moments?"

"How dare you. All that I say is awesome."

"I should've recorded your jokes about the items at the baby shop that time. That stuff was rough, man."

He does the throaty laugh that reveals he's truly amused.

"I better not say anything else, then."

"Exactly. Why ruin a good thing."

I contemplate kissing him again. Or taking our shoes off and enjoying each other for another half hour of pure conversation, just to prove that it's doable. Then my phone rings with Katie's name on the screen, and it's almost a relief. That I get to leave knowing that it ended this well. We step outside, where the night air now feels freezing in contrast to the car.

Katie meets us at the foot of the stairs, her buzz stronger than ever. She lays both hands on Alan's cheeks, which she never would've done sober, and thanks him for the invitation. She introduces him to Tim in detail, as if one had any reason to be interested in the other ("This guy here, he's a teacher. And you won't believe what he's a teacher of. Second grade!"). Alan plays along and, for the first time, gets some laughter out of her. I suspect that in her normal state, Katie might've picked up on our vibe. She would've had questions for me on the drive home. But not this Katie. For the here and now, this Katie is ideal.

"Are you ok to drive?" Alan asks me as we reach the back porch.

"I didn't even finish my second beer. I'm totally fine."

"Ok. Go safe."

"I will, don't worry. You too."

We hug briefly with Katie watching. She gives him a quick wave goodbye, and a moment later she and I are crossing the lawn and headed for my car. All of it simple and dry. There was no room for more.

As I open my door, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I sit and fasten my seatbelt before I check the text on the swipe-down notifications, which show a miniature version of the photo he took of himself. I leave it unseen for now. Something to look forward to.