First, the waitress behind her screamed, and quite obviously, this drew my attention in her direction. Second, the man between us along the counter had removed a rather large pistol from a shoulder holster. Only later did I realize that this action had only been in response to the bearded fellow standing somewhere out of sight and his own drawn weapon. Thirdly, she caught sight of me. And, despite the clamor all around her, this was the principle occurrence that drew me to her. Over our heads, two men were preparing for a duel yet her eyes, blue, were what drew me to her. They were calm, tranquil even, despite the bullets that were about to pierce the cafe windows.
Perhaps that was the best way to describe her, calm. She pulled me in that way. I suppose it was her serenity that really outlined her beauty. For her beauty was enough to distract me from the gunfight that day. She really did outshine the entire event. To this day, I cannot remember what had transpired there. Was the bearded man the undercover cop? Was the cop killed? I never could remember, despite the reporters who reminded me afterwords in an interview and the repeated news bulletins that went on and on all that week. All I could see in the little mental movie that made up that morning were her eyes.
Later, when we had both subconsciously slunk to the floor to avoid the bullets, I, of course, noticed the rest of her. Her cleavage was showing as her body was pressed against the floor, and she made no effort to hide it. I think, even then, she felt the connection. She said much later that it had been me, not her, who saw her first and that it had been my eyes, equally as blue, that had made her so calm. I liked it when she said that. It made it seem that we were mirrored, as if by the copper colored jacket of the bullets that brought us together.
It was sometime after the smoke had cleared, the medics had given up, and the media had abandoned the place that I finally went up to her. It took a great deal of courage, as it always does for me and people like me. I could never be sure if my forwardness would win or offend the girl.
I started off simple, “Hi,” I said, and cursed myself for its stupidity.
She responded well, with a simple ‘hello’ and, after gleaming that her name was Isabel and mine was Alyssa, I was encouraged enough to press harder.
“I saw you under the table.”
She laughed. That was good. Laughing was good.
“And,” I continued, “I thought you were really cute. Would you, maybe, be interested in me?”
There was a ringing in my ears, perhaps from the sound of the gun, perhaps from my own fear, perhaps from the nerves that had suddenly grown in my stomach. I don’t remember how exactly she said it but, through the ringing, I could sense that the answer was thankfully, heavenly, yes. Finding a girlfriend as a girl is difficult. We are faced every day with the fear that the girl we are interested in isn’t even attracted to our sex. It’s like trying to make friends in a room full of foreigners; you never know when one of them doesn’t even speak your language.
Though the employees were mostly shell shocked, and we were mostly full, the two of us stormed back into the cafe to share our first cup of coffee. We had to make it ourselves since no one was around to do so for us.
The first date went well. She even let me kiss her on the cheek amid the crowds still surrounding the store. Her skin was soft. I wanted to touch it, to kiss her right there. But she wouldn’t have it. But that was to be expected. It was not this date that I would remember as much as the fifth, which was to come only a week later.
That special day was in my apartment. I had made the bed special, expecting to have need of it. I was quite correct. Isabel wasn’t much interested in wining and dining that night. She was ready for the real thing.
I kissed her as she stepped through the door. It was a gentle kiss. I was trying not to presume anything would come of it. She did not detach. Isabel closed the door behind her and kissed me more forcefully. She was wearing boots and tight jeans with a blue scarf that outlined her eyes and hung around her neck in the way that most well dressed women are expected to. She wasn’t really the lesbian type, I thought then. She looked to be the socially perfect woman. Beautiful. Smart. Classy. Definitely straight. Maybe she was. Maybe she was only with me now out of rebellion to her parents or her ex or something. Just then, I didn’t care, I was aroused.
We flopped down onto the couch by the door. I thought about leading her to the bedroom then, but I was afraid she wasn’t ready. My fears were validated moments later as she broke the kiss and I suggested we watch television. Isabel seemed ashamed of her forwardness. I wondered if this was because she was no longer interested in me or if she was just as afraid as I was. It was so hard for me to get a girl home. It had been months actually. I would not let this one go, especially since my Isabel was so hot.
She watched the television and I watched her. She was looking pointedly away from me, her breasts rising and falling with her breath. I thought that I could see her nipple beneath her shirt as if she wasn’t wearing a bra. I was excited, I could feel my vagina dampen, this must mean something. Surely she was expecting some fun today.
“Have you ever done that before?” I asked, hoping to steer a conversation in the proper direction.
“Done what?”
“Kissed a girl.”
“No, I haven’t,” she blushed and looked away.
I giggled and placed one arm around her. My hips turned toward the girl.
“But you do… like girls?”
“I’m not sure.”
“But you’ve never tried it.”
“No.”
I draped one leg over hers and lifted my other hand to her face, “Do you want to find out?”
She sat quite stiff as if afraid of me.
“You seemed to like this,” I said, kissing her again. She kissed me back.
“I do,” she said.
“Now,” I said, “Do you like this?”
I pulled down my shirt and flipped my bra off of my small breast. She looked at it curiously.
“I’ve never seen anyone else’s before.”
“Never?”
“No.”
“Well,” I said, taking hold of her hand and placing it over my breast, “take a closer look.”
She squeezed gently and tickled my nip. Then she looked up at me, “Is this right?”
I kissed her and slipped the straps of my shirt off my shoulders, “Anything is right, baby, as long as you like it.”
She reached around me and unlatched my bra. Her eyes flicked between my eyes and my other breast. She lowered her head and pressed her lips around my left nipple, biting it gently. I held her head there and looked at the ceiling. She was learning how to pleasure a woman fast. I loved the biting.
“Mmm, how did you know to do that?”
“I like it when guys do it to me,” she said, kissing me awkwardly.
“I’ve never been with a guy.”
“We’ll have to try it together sometime,” she said, jokingly.
I swung my leg over her lap and sat there. I looked into her eyes, she into mine, and kissed her with my breasts tickling her chin. I threw off her scarf, revealing her neck and kissed the smooth skin.
“I have the bed ready for us,” I said, “if you want to move in there.”
She nodded, still clearly a little shy. I stood up and took her by the hand. She rose to her feet and I kissed her again. She kicked off her heels and followed me into the bedroom. I sat her down and placed my hands on her shoulders. She looked up at me and my exposed breasts.
“Your turn,” I winked and placed my fingers in the cloth of her shirt and pulled it off.
I was right, she wasn’t wearing a bra. Her breasts spilled out of her shirt like water. They were pale and round and I was immediately in love with them. I pushed her back into the folds of the bed covers, placing my mouth around her left nipple. She seemed to stiffen slightly, as if afraid.
“Don’t you like me?”
“I do!”
“Then relax.”
She did, a little, and I bit down gently. She gasped. I squeezed her breasts. I kissed her chest, her neck, her cheeks, and her lips. I felt her arch her back. She was getting into it. She kissed me back ferociously, our tongues met. I worked my way back down her body, licking her neck, biting her nipples, and kissing her stomach. My fingers found the edge of her pants. I smiled up at her. She grinned shyly back.
I let my palm slide behind her jeans and felt her panties. She reached down and unbuttoned herself. I kissed her.
We broke apart and I smiled at her, waiting out my next move. I tucked my fingers into her pockets and pulled down her pants. She crossed her legs, giggling and shaking her head.
“No?”
“You first,” she said, reaching for my breasts and rolling me off of her. I smiled.
“I like that,” I said, wriggling off my pants. She saw my pink, slightly translucent panties and laughed.
“Someone was expecting something tonight,” she said.
“Was I wrong?”
She giggled again, and I was quickly learning to love her laugh, she swooped down on my legs. Her teeth pulled at my panties, my hips gyrated uncontrollably in anticipation and excitement. She placed the tip of her finger over my clitoris and started to rub. I gasped, egging her on. I was surprised at her sudden forwardness, it seemed that she was finally comfortable with me and my body. I smiled and ran my fingers through her hair.
She tucked her fingers into the g-string of my underwear and pulled them over my feet, tossing them aside. Her lips were inches away from my pussy. I could feel it throbbing, waiting for her to sink her tongue into it. She pushed one finger inside of me and I felt the anticipation break like a storm on the prairie. My pussy immediately dampened and
I began to breathe heavily. She licked my clit and fucked me with her fingers, sending shivers up and down my spine with every stroke. She was getting more into it now, I watched as she slid out of her own pants, one hand still embedded inside of me, and revealed her black and white striped underwear.
Before either of us knew it, I had her panties off too and was tongue deep inside of her. She tasted better than I could have imagined and I refused to stop. Of course, she was happy to sit on my face, my hands reaching up to twist her nipples, as she slowly climaxed.
Then, our pussies were together, throbbing in unison. I had rolled her over my crotch and she rocked back and forth over my vagina, as if riding me. She sat on my hips rocking back and forth and gradually working herself up to an orgasm. I lay flat, feeling the waves of pleasure crash over me through the grinding motion of her vagina.
I pushed her off of me and went for the bedside table. When I returned to her I had in my hand a long pink dildo, one that I thought would never be seen by another living soul. I placed my mouth around it, letting the tip tickle the back of my throat and then pulled it back out.
“This is my dick,” I said to her.
She was already on her back with her legs spread, and her mouth twisted into a sly grin. I crammed it into her mouth. She teased it with her tongue as if it were a real penis. I joined her, licking at her lips and sucking on the tip of the dildo. Then, I took it back from her and slipped it into her pussy. For the rest of the night, I fucked Isabel with my favorite dildo and she screamed until my neighbors took notice. Then she quieted down and we fucked until morning.
