I jump into a taxi. The long-time yearned for autumn sun shines through the smudged windows. I am blind to it. I just want to arrive quickly. The car halts outside a delapidated hotel.
I sign us into the guest book. When he looks at our names the porter asks if a twin bedded room would do.
“No”, I say overloudly.
He looks at me intrusively, before turning and looking for a key.
The room assigned to me is a meager attic, not yet cleaned. The stained, brown mattress uncovered. I am left to myself. I can hear the vacuum cleaner of the roommaid next door. I stand impatiently in the door of this room, which consists only of a sole, large bed.
I thoroughly scrutinise my clothes. Then, considering the situation of meeting someone at a station, I choose the riskiest outfit. It means, “I want to go to bed with you immediately”. But the offer is hidden. I slip into a short, very tight skirt, whose material, with each movement, slides back and forth over my thighs and arouses me.
And I put on something else: black tights which are open at my cunt and my ass, letting free those parts which she should caress, make wet, bring to swell, penetrate. My chest is only just covered by a leather jacket.
So dressed, I go through the streets and I fear that all see the nakedness underneath, that any of the passers-by would stop, tear open my jacket, drag me into a door. But nobody looks. People pass by without harm.
The sun has deepened and its rays pass through the milky glass tiles of the station roof, making the distance more attractive. Black rails dive into this golden light and far outside they become like mirrors. An atmosphere of leaving spreads over this busy hall and all concentration seems to be oriented only on this light, broad space.
I see movement there where her train is awaited, people coming toward me. But not her. Then finally her silhouette appears, dressed in black, small, with black glasses, black holdall on her shoulders, flame red hair, tightly cut, she looks seekingly around her.
Kaye takes off her sunglasses. The face looks strained, looks pale under the red opulence, grown older by years since last summer, without mascara. The eyebrows a thin stroke. She is half a head smaller than me, smaller it seems than I remember.
Overwhelmed I take her in my arms, am silent, while holding her. Sweat comes out of all pores. And the moment has come when everything will be alright.
I glow with heat, I don’t know what to say. To overcome my excitement and my embarrassment I tell her that I had struggled all day to get a room. Now I finally have one, I say.
We take the underground. I sit in front of her. Balancing on high heels like on a tight rope, my legs press against hers in heavy leather and move them apart, slightly but with determination.
I blush because I purposely brought myself to a situation, where, in the bright light of the underground amongst strangers, I arouse the desire of another woman and cannot flee from her looks anymore.
I open the door, want everything to start immediately, want that the waiting stops, but she should not know that. To ease the tension I go to the front end of the bed and take the gift from the house, a bag of jellybears, turn to give it to her, laughing. But she does not react, just looks at me demandingly.
The thin cloth of the skirt stretches over my thighs when I am standing provocatively near to her, sending a shot of arousal to the middle of my body. I bravely withstand her look.
She takes her time. Slowly she moves towards me and rips the zip of my jacket down, so that it now hangs open on my breasts, then with a yank she tears it apart, looks at the gaping aperture.
My nipples are hard between her fingertips. She watches them, turns them. This is one of my favourite fantasies, be observed, opened, with restrained desire.
Her finger slides to the waistband of the skirt and downwards. My lower lips are heavy with impatience to be discovered. Once the cunt is nude, it must already be wet, ready for her, thickly swollen, in a way that the slimy film sucks the unknown fingers into me.
Her finger slips under the skirt, snakelike along the thighs, to the point where the tights stop, where the skin begins, smooth, nude, silky. Our looks fall into one another. For a short time her eyes become like slits. It is even more silent between us now.
I lift the skirt with a caressing movement and show “it” to her. It arouses me to think how beautiful I am for her.
With a sharp move she pulls me onto the bed.
I say that I want to be fucked by her. I want to have what she likes to do most. With a hard gesture she turns me onto my belly to have my ass in front of her, while she is preparing herself for the fuck, strapping on the cock. She pushes me into the cushion, softly but without misunderstanding, and touches my buttocks. She presses the cock against my lips, panting when I start to caress it.
I know what impression it makes when I devotedly lick a cock. I cannot blame her for not wanting to wait any longer, now moving over me, spreading my legs apart, diving between my lips with fingers full of saliva, preparing them for herself, making them even more open, more slippery, so that I cannot resist any longer, so that nothing in me prevents her fucking
me anymore.
The cold cap comes to the entrance of the cunt, pushing into me, and I have a single wish, to let her in as deeply as possible, take her totally into me, this woman who knows so well how to arouse me. I let this woman come into me with her hard cock, be in me, and she can be sure that I will come soon, very soon.
From: Sex is the Answer, Novel, 2006
