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Fire and Ice
Fire and Ice
"We need ice," Gonz shouts over the din of the party.
It is his twenty fifth birthday party and somehow, the guest list of ten or so friends suddenly swelled to twice the number. People stand, packed wall to wall in the barely adequate hotel room, laughting, talking. We all expect a knock on the door at any moment, but we refuse to slow down.
I need a break from the crowd so I pipe up, "I've got it."
"I'm going with you," you say.
Without another word, you open the door and thrust into the hallway. The hem of your skirt flaps about your knees. Your outfit looks smart on you, as always, and I admire its look on you. A summer top, spaghetti straps that hold up cotton knit, a design of greens and blues blending one into another, a beautiful match. Your skirt, brown ochre, is tight in the waist and hips, but playfully flares out by the time it reaches your knees. I follow the line of your legs, joyfully tracing the zig-zag of thin straps that bind your calves, leading to the dark brown leather of your sandals. Your toenails are painted a red I've seen before, the same color as your punkinsh hair.
"I'm hot," I hear you say.
As I look up, you stop to bunch your hair atop your head. A thin bead of sweat creeps from beheath your hairline. I walk up behind you and put my hands on your warm shoulders. You shiver as the bead makes its way to mid-neck. Gently, with soft tongue, I lick it away, up the spine to your hair. I back away to your sigh, hands clenching a mess of red, muscles in your back taught.
"Yes," I say. "You are hot."
You turn your head toward me, your green eyes swimming. You wear an expression of mixed feelings: lust and "I can't believe I'm turned on right now". They finally melt into calm composure as you exhale, turn and make for the iceroom.
"You're bad," you say.
"That's good though. Right?"
You laugh. I follow, falling behind a few steps to watch you walk. I love the way you move, confident in your own skin, aware. The curves of your body are etched into my memory already... I could draw you from memory if only I could draw. As you move forward, one light footstep at a time, I watch your hips slide from side to side. I experience the wonder of the shape of your form... again... for the very first time. I know you know I am watching. You play to my fancy.
"Do you like my new outfit?"
"Uhhhh... let's see... yes."
"Jerk," you say playfully. You briefly look my way, a devious smile on your bright lips, a girlish joy in your eyes now. Leting go of your hair, you pirouette to give me the full view. As you spin, colors and form blending into one, I am reminded of a flower in bloom. You spin down the hall, laughing, until you finally reach the door of the iceroom. I jog behind, laughing freely with you, my heart lightened by the sound.
"Whoa," you exclaim and reach out for me with both hands, staggering toward me on wobbly legs. Catching you in my arms, we clamber through the frosted glass door, "VENDING" in large black stencil on its front.
Inside stood two soda machines, a snack machine and the ice dispenser. Breaking free, you make your way to the ice machine. You lean against it, back first, and tilt your head back. Your exposed neck stretches full, the veins and muscles pulsing beneath blushing flesh. I rest my hands beside your shoulders, and slowly kiss you beheath the ear.
"Mmmmmmmmm," you hum.
I gently kiss down the side, then across to the hollow of your throat. You lock your fingers in my hair now. I understand. Softly, I kiss your throat, jawline and then a lip, the top one. You pull me down, not even an inch, then plant your lips onto mine. An electric shock runs through me, rebounds off of my footsoles then rushes back to my mouth. You break from me. Staring at each other, passion rockets from eye to eye like spouting flamethrowers.
"Did you feel that," you ask.
"Yes," I say.
I kiss you again, this time I put my hands on you. Our lips and tongues passionately entangle in a wet embrace. I let my fingers glide across your body, across the fabric that covers your hips, your waist, your breasts. Finally, reaching the bare skin of your chest, they move over your collarbones and down your back. As they come to rest on your behind, you briefly stop kissing to smile. I pull you close, my hands tight on you now. I see what you want now. I see it in your eyes.
I cradle your face in my hands and kiss you with renewed passion. Your body heats, sweat beginning to form on your shoulders. I break from your mouth, kiss down your neck and again to the bare flesh of your chest. I feel you smiling down at me. Running a soft hand over my head, your free hand tugs at your top, freeing a breast. You push me toward it. I love your breasts, the draping curves, erect nipples. I love how you groan when I press your nipple between my lips, flicking at it with my tongue.
You squirm, but not to get away. You squirm with delight, a long hiss escaping your lips as I continue to tease your nipple. My hands make their way beneath the hem of your skirt. They carress the soft flesh of your thighs, the shape of your ass. You pull me closer still, your hips slightly rocking. As I release your breast, you slide your top back into place. I move back to your accepting mouth. Now my body is moving on its own; now my body is under your control. I slip the moist cloth of your underwear to the side. My finger grazes your soft, wet folds. Your groan is guttural and your kisses become more harsh. Refusing to give in, I stroke slowly, barely touching your hot and sensitive flesh.
"Mmmmmmmmm, baby," you say.
Your body quivers. Looking into your eyes again, I see desire and helpless passion. I see what I am feeling. Carefully, I replace your clothes, and kiss you one more time.
"We should get that ice," I say.
"Mmmmmmmmmmmmm," you hum. "You're so bad."
"Yeah, but that's good."
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