I want to feel your tongue

I once read somewhere that only mature women can wear purple successfully. I hate the word mature. It connotes old age, rather that sophistication, which is closer to the mark. But you can be sophisticated and not mature. If you have not experienced this, you will just have to trust me until you experience it for yourself. Besides, old was not a term I would use.

She admitted to being over 40, but standing in the opening of my cube, I would not have put her at more than 35 and judging by the increase in traffic in the hallway that fronted my cube, she had the attention of the rest of my male office mates as well. Like most IT shops, ours was heavily male and an attractive woman in our midst generally caused an urgent need to be somewhere where you could survey the scenery. I do not know if she noticed the extra attention. She probably did. As a woman in IT, you either ignored it or you did not last, especially if you were even remotely attractive. She was.

I read once upon a time that if a mature woman was going to wear purple, it had to be silk. Even from 10 feet away, I could tell she was wearing silk. Do not ask me how I knew, but I did. Maybe it was the way her blouse fell or the jacquard on the fabric. Three years in men’s clothing had taught me a little. For example, the plain forest green wool skirt, falling two hands above her knees, probably had a matching jacket somewhere, but she was not currently wearing it. The blouse closed at the neck, but without a collar and the buttons were hidden. If I were a betting man I would guess they were pearl. Amethysts, sparkling in their gold settings were in her ears.

She also admitted to being a maverick. She was so well turned out that I wondered where the surprise was. She smiled at me as if daring me to guess, shifting her weight slightly on one foot. I let my eyes flick over her once more and smiled back at her. The smooth line of her skirt gave nothing away, her black hose clung tight to her legs, a slight pattern dancing over them in the light. No, it was the way her blouse fell against her side. At once covering and revealing. No question it was silk now.

“I suppose this is a special delivery and I am going to pay dearly for it?” I asked, breaking the short silence. I do not think I took too long to say something, or for anyone to think anything other than I had been caught by surprise by her presence. A fairly common occurrence actually considering very few people outside of our group even knew who I was, much less came to visit me. I knew who she was, but I do not think anyone else knew I knew. For most of us, she was just a voice on the phone or an email address. Until today, I had never met her in person either, but in many ways, I knew as much about her and she knew about me. It was as if we had been sitting next to each other for years.

“I believe that was the deal,” she replied. That I even remembered the conversation amazed me. I rarely remember anything beyond the moment of occurrence unless I consciously force myself to. It makes it tough sometimes, which is why I will often write down important commands that I might only use once or twice but are critical to keeping things going. I have a sieve for a memory and I admit it, but I would have known her in a crowded room.

She looked like her picture and yet she did not. Black hair cut short in the front but collar length. Serviceable, some would call it, but I think it suited her, highlighted her features and made her look sexy. There was no order to her locks, an organized tangle that showed spirit. She was a bundle of confined energy, ready to leap into a task – harnessed and straining. I half expected an electric shock when I shook her hand. I was almost disappointed that I did not get one.

“Have you had lunch yet?” I asked, looking at the clock.

“No,” she replied simply, her brown eyes smiling. “Where are we going?”

“Well, if I had know you were coming, I would have made a reservation, but I think I can come up with something,” I said, riffling through my internal list of restaurants in the area where we could have a quiet lunch without being disturbed. “If you are ready? Or do you want to get your jacket?” I asked.

“I am ready, and I did not bring one this trip,” she said as she backed up to let me out and into the hall.

“Then shall we?” I asked, offering her my arm as any gentleman would. She smiled and placed her hand in the crook of my elbow, playing up the roll. We negotiated our way into the corridor and out of the building. She told me about her trip down and the morning of meetings she had managed to endure. She was looking forward to the following day when we would be working together. To be honest so was I, for a variety of reasons, the least of which was I would have someone else trained in my job and would be able to commiserate with.

“You look wonderful,” I said when we reached the street, the anonymity of the crowd surrounding us.

“Thank you,” she replied. “After all, it is partially your fault.”

“My fault?” I asked, perplexed.

“Yes, your fault. You never made a decision.”

She was right about that, from her point of view. I actually had made a decision, I just never chose to share it with her, not knowing how she would react.

We stopped at the corner and she moved her hand from my arm and put it across my back, pulling me to her. I rested my hand on her hip and squeezed. I was afraid to rest my hand against her blouse.

“So my dear,” I began, “what would you like for lunch?”

We crossed the street and walked into the park a few paces before she turned into the path, forcing me to stop. She wrapped her arms around my neck, her hands playing lightly with the hair at the back of my neck, a twinkle in her eye. I let my hands rest lightly on her hips, holing her, but not preventing movement.

“What if I am not hungry,” she said, still playing with my hair, causing my skin to tingle and tighten.

“Well, this is Washington, DC,” I replied. “There are many things one can do in this town at lunch time.”

“Such as?” She was sweetness and light. She knew exactly what she was doing and my mouth was starting to go dry. Unfortunately things were happening in other places so I shifted my weight slightly.

“We could look at old masters, or new ones for that matter. Dinosaur bones? Fancy stones? Silk kimonos?” My mind was spinning as I dredged up as many things as I could. Truth be told, I am not a tourist in my own city and spend very little time walking around town, even though I spend several hours a day in it.

“Nope, nothing excites me yet,” she said, pulling herself closer, our bodies touching. If she had any questions about how attracted I was to her, they were erased in that moment. I slid my hands around her sides and supported her at the small of her back, gently rubbing her spine in little circles between the top of her skirt and the bottom of her corset. She tipped her head back and sighed as I did that.

“If you keep that up,” she whispered, “I cannot be held responsible for my actions.” Her eyes had fluttered closed for a moment and then opened and looked into mine. I was still rubbing her back.

“I will give you a thousand years to stop,” she said before she kissed me. I do not know what I expected, but it was not the passion that exploded between us. I moved my hands up to her shoulders, pulling her closer to me while she seemed to be holding on for dear life, our lips controlling the bottled lightning that was passing between us. A low growl escaped us, asked and answered, but who asked and who answered was unknown. The kiss broke and I was breathless. Her eyes were unfocused and she rested her forehead against my chest, her own chest heaving, striving to recover.

“If I had known I was to be on the menu,” I said with a playful lilt to my voice, “I would have taken better care with my presentation.”

“You weren’t supposed to be,” she replied, a faint tremor in her voice. I could not tell if it was fear or passion or a combination of both.

“I will tell you what,” I began, as I slipped my hands back to her hips, giving her the opportunity to stand back if she wanted to. She did not move. “Give me a moment to collect myself and I will take you to lunch. If you want, I will even forget this.”

She simply shook her head. “No.”

I read once that purple, being a mix of blue and red, combines spiritual understanding and empathy, which it gets from the colour blue, with a healthy, passionate sexual appetite which it gets from the colour red, if you follow those things. Me, I was raised a gentleman and it does not matter what the lady is wearing, even if she is wearing nothing. When she says no, she means no, even if you do not understand which question she was saying no to. Women sometimes want us to be able to read their minds. That is a skill I have never developed, so I always go with discretion. A foot of space is always a good start and it gives you room to duck if she throws something.

She must have known what I was going to do, or sensed it because the tension in my hands had just relaxed when she dropped her left hand onto mine and held in it place against her hip, her head shaking at the same time she whispered “no” again, then emphasizing it by tightening her hand on mine and pulling me closer with the hand still holding my neck. I just stood there, letting her gather her thoughts.

She looked up at me; her eyes seemed unfocused as if she was not looking at me, but through me. Maybe she was not really looking at me but some spot beyond. I moved my hands to her waist and gave her a gentle hug. That brought a small smile and her eyes regained their focus as she looked at me. They had lost their playful sparkle. There was little question that what ever was going through her mind was serious. If she wanted me to know about it, she would tell me. Patience is not a virtue I suffer from, but in this case, I was willing to wait.

She pulled me closer and kissed me again. This time it was more of the wind of a bird lifting than the hurricane of our previous kiss and quick as if to apologize or as a place holder. She stepped back, never once letting go of my hand and moved to my right side. With a gentle tug she indicated that I was to follow her, or at least walk beside her, her decision made.

We walked across the park at a pace a marathon runner would call sedate. Not a word was spoken as I strove to match her stride, our fingers interwoven, our arms swinging freely. Every so often I would glace over at her and she at me, but it was more of a challenge not to run over the noontime workers out for some fresh air or a quick bite of lunch. Oddly, I found my mind doing a quick inventory of my bag, sitting quietly under my desk, to see if I had any snack food in it, because something told me that lunch, in terms of caloric intake anyway, had gone by the boards.

There are four hotels within walking distance of our offices. The one near the Circle was her goal and she barely slackened her step as we crossed the lobby and entered an elevator.

“I hope I am not being to forward,” she whispered as she pulled me to her and we kissed again. The heady rush of her kiss and the acceleration of the elevator car was quite a mixture and we once again were breathless as the chime announcing her floor sounded.

I let her lead the way. Her room seemed to be as far from the elevators as possible and still be in the same building, yet we lost little time in getting there and once inside, she again pulled me close again. If I had seemed hesitant before, I was no longer. I pulled her tight against me as I kissed her back. There was passion and there was heat and there was unity. We broke apart and she sighed, planting little kisses on my chin as I was doing the same to her eyes. She looked up at me and smiled. It was a very self-assured smile, as if, until that moment, she had not really understood what was happening and now, not only understood, but wanted more. I had a similar feeling.

“You are a bad influence,” she said, straightening up and pulling her elbows inside the cradle of my arms.

“And how is that?” I asked, kissing the knuckles on one had as it went by. She stopped her hands and let me kiss each knuckle in turn.

“I only wanted to tease you. To make up for all those messages that left me wanting more and not being able to reach it. To leave you in the same state you always seemed to leave me in.” She was smiling as she said it. Oh, she had every right to do just what she had planned and I would not have thought less of her for it. But more than once she had surprised me and standing here, wrapped in my arms, she had surprised me again.

“But I cannot do that. I don’t want to do that.” She was having problems with the button on her collar, her focus floating from looking at me and trying to manipulate the button. I took both her hands in mine, taking them away from the button and standing back from her. She frowned at me, just slightly, but I noticed it. I kissed her fingers gently and looked into her eyes.

“I understand,” I said, my voice breaking a little with emotion. I kissed her hands again. “I understand and I feel the same way. But please understand that I have to ask you if you are sure.” I released the tension in my hands enough so that if she wanted to pull them away, she could, but I was not going to let them go otherwise. She thought she was sure; I needed to know that she was.

I read somewhere that in the modern age, purple should be warn as silk and that silk should be trimmed with lace. It makes a strong, regal statement. It says, “I’m not low maintenance.” Any woman wearing purple silk will expect to be treated regally. And if she isn’t … it’s off with his head! I held her hands like they were lace, delicate and beautiful. I did not want to loose my head, but more, I did not want to loose my friend. I put myself in her hands and time seemed to stretch.

A part of me was sure Einstein would be curious to know the results of this experiment in temporal inertia. Eternity seemed to be approaching, yet neither one of us had moved. She pulled her hands out of mine and I felt my stomach drop.

“Yes, I am sure,” she said as she wrapped her hands around mine and kissed my fingers, flicking her tongue delicately along them. At some point I must have stopped breathing because I suddenly had a strong need to start again. I was trembling and not just from a lack of oxygen. I pulled her to me and kissed her this time. She managed to get her arms around me as I pulled her closer, our bodies touching with only silk and cotton between us. I could feel her heart in her chest and hear the little moans of pleasure escaping her throat as I kissed her. We broke apart and again she tried to unto the top button of her blouse.

“Let me,” I said, moving her hands out of the way and slipping the button through its hole. I slid my fingers along her neck and bent in to kiss the hollow of her throat, now exposed. Her hands had slipped to my sides and she was holding on to me as a swimmer does to a rock while enjoying the crash of waves around her.

A slight sigh escaped her lips as I undid each button in turn, following their progression along the hollow between her breasts to the top of the corset. With all the buttons undone, I kissed my way back up the right curve of her breast, her chest rising and falling erratically as I kissed my way up the side of her neck and back to her lips. Animal passion escaped her as our lips met and she tried to devour me in one bite. I caught her head in my hands, running my fingers through her hair and causing her to moan even deeper.

“I am so glad you did not wear a tie today,” she said as she all but attacked the hollow of my neck, following the same path down my chest as I had followed on hers, but she was able to kiss all the way down to my waist, sucking in gently on my abdomen before retracing her steps. As she pulled my shirt free of my pants, she traced the line of my pectoral, but changed at the last moment to run her tongue over my nipple as her hand grazed the other one drawing a moan of pleasure from me.

“As I said, you are a bad influence,” she said after soundly kissing me. She took two steps back and indicated I should sit down on the edge of the bed. “A very bad influence.” As she finished speaking, she undid the clasp and lowered the zipper holding up her skirt and let it slip to the floor.

I followed the skirt the entire journey. Past the smooth skin of her legs, the top of her stockings (while saying a prayer of thanks to the inventors of Lycra) past her knees and down to pool at her ankles where she stepped out of it and stood before me. I dragged my attention back up as I saw the flutter of silk fall to the floor to join the skirt. I had expected purple or at least black silk. What I saw was at once more enjoyable and more surprising. The colour of her skin indicated that she had forgotten to wear all of her bathing suit at some point in her past and her well trimmed hair glistened with the moisture of her excitement. I continued to drag my sight up to her face, pulling my body with it to pull her against me again, my naked chest rubbing against the silk of her corset, our lips meeting again in a quick kiss that only seemed to last an hour.

“Now, get me out of this thing,” she said, turning around and letting me undo each hook from its eye. Each time her back was exposed gave me an excuse to kiss her and I slowly worked my way down until each hook had been freed continuing to the small of her back and the rise of her ass slipping my tongue out slightly to trace the gentle curve I was facing, my hands tracing down the outside of her legs. I felt her tremble as I reached the lowest and deepest point I could before standing up, sliding my hands along her stomach and sliding under the front of her now loosened corset to replace the boning of the garment with my own hands, cupping her breasts and sliding my fingers around her erect nipples, eliciting a sigh, a moan and another tremor from her. She tipped her head back against my chest and let me gently squeeze her breasts and kiss her shoulders.

“Don’t forget you owe me a backrub,” she sighed as she turned around, naked but for her stockings and shoes. “But at the moment, a backrub is not what I want and you have too many clothes on,” she said as placed random kisses on my chest, working first my belt loose and then slipping the catch and zipper on my pants. I caught her chin in my hand and kissed her as I forced my shoes off my feet. Once free, I let her have her way again. She stopped to run her tongue over the rim of my belly button, her hands pushing my pants down and then untangling my underwear from my erection, her soft hand bring a thrill of excitement as her kisses wandered around the top of my thighs, forcing my legs out of my pants.

“Sit,” she said and with a flourish pulled my socks off and almost threw herself into my arms. Nothing stood between us now and I could feel the heat of her body everywhere.

I rolled her over and stood up. She watched me, rising up on her elbows as I knelt at her feet, between her legs. Slowly, I rolled her stockings down her legs, one at a time, trailing kisses down her smooth legs to her foot, where I would kiss each toe until she was squirming on the edge of the bed. As I released her foot and gently set it on the ground, I again moved between her legs and planted kisses on her knee, starting at the top and working towards the inside. Once there, I slowly kissed my way up the inside of her thighs until I was a hairs breathe away, her ardor clearly visible. I then returned to the other knee to repeat the process, slow and gentle. She had long since surrendered, laying back, eyes closed, a rose hue colouring her cheeks and upper chest as she tried to catch her breath.

As I approached a second time, I followed the line of her leg where it joins her hip, slowly kissing my way up her side, her arm moving aside and trailing through my hair as kissed each rib, my free hand dancing over her stomach. At the bottom of her breast, I trailed kisses under the curve and up in a slow circle culminated by taking her nipple into my mouth and rolling it between my lip and tongue. Her hand was no longer trailing through my hair but holding my head to her breast as I pull and twist her nipple. My other hand begins a similar process, gently rubbing her breast and twirling her nipple between my fingers. Her breath is erratic, her body moving back and forth over a small space. I break off from her nipple and kiss my way to her lips. Her moan of displeasure replaced by a moan of desire as I kiss her, my hand trailing down her body, across her stomach to rest against the inside of her thigh.

“Please,” she sighed between our kisses. “I want to feel your tongue.” What my lady wants, I am more than willing to give her and slide the length of her body to again kiss the inside of her thighs. She is pink and wet as I trace her folds; bringing a mewling of pleasure and more tremors from her body. I slowly begin to circle her centre, her body moving more and more erratically as I slowly tighten up on her. It only takes a few well placed kisses for her to explode, her sighs and moans blocked out by her thighs squeezing against my ears. I enjoy the product of my labours, eliciting a few more random moans and gently kiss my way back up her body, avoiding any sensitive areas. Her hands catch my hair and help hurry my upward motion to her lips as we kiss again, our bodies getting ever closer to each other.

“What am I going to do with you,” she asks as her breathing normalizes.

“I would think that you could do just about anything you wanted with me,” I replied, kissing her again.

“Actually, I was wondering how I was going to get you in my suitcase.”

“Oh, well, if you want something you can put in your suitcase, I can recommend several stores in the area,” I respond only to get a fist in the shoulder and rolled over on my back.

“Move up,” she says. “I have a better idea”

“And that would be?”

“This,” she says, lowering herself on to me, but I catch her hips before she can start moving. The feeling of being inside her is almost more than I can take.

“Wait one moment or this is going to be a very short ride,” I manage to get out. She wiggles her hips, not really helping the matter and I slide my hands around her body, thumbs flicking her nipples. Fair’s fair after all.

Her hips are slowly twitching, her muscles moving with out moving her body. I gently squeeze her breasts and she begins to move her hips in earnest. It does not take long for either one of us to peak, but the pleasure is no less. I catch her falling body as she her muscles betray her. I hold her against me as our breathing and pulse return to normal, our kisses short but tender.

“I think you are going to be late,” I whisper.

“Yes, I guess I am,” she replies. “But I thought this was more important.”

“You won’t here me argue,” I reply. I thought so too.

Our passion spent, we must have fallen asleep. She kissed me quickly and headed for the bathroom. I shook the cobwebs from my head and checked the time. Not as much time had passed as I thought, but we had been gone longer than even a long lunch could cover. It really did not matter to me. It might tomorrow or the next day, but right now it did not matter. I was enthralled as I watched her walk back. She saw me watching her and she smirked and added a extra swing to her hips. She was sexy and beautiful and I could watch her all day.

“What are you thinking,” she asked, kissing me, curling back into my arms.

“That I could I would be happy just watching you all day,” I said, kissing her back. “But right now, that is not going to help either one of us. You are very late and I am only slightly in trouble.” She kissed me again, on the lips, the chest and sat up.

“You are a task master. I suppose you are not joining us tonight either?” There was desire in her voice and longing and she knew the answer even before she asked the question.

“You know I can’t.”

“Yes,” she said, bending down and kissing me again. “But I was hoping.”

“Next time.” I sat up and pulled her to me and she clung to me like a drowning woman. I kneaded her back gently as she gathered her emotions. I was not going to let her go out until she was centred again in her own mind. After a few minutes, she sat up and kissed me again. The passion we had shared was echoed in the kiss, as was our desire, our longing and other emotions, too complicated for words. It caused parts of our bodies to tighten and brought a low moan of pleasure from both of us.

“If we keep this up,” I said, breaking our kiss, “they will start looking for us.”

That started her giggling. “Let them try and find us,” she said, looking around, I am sure, for something to hide under.

I caught her hands and kissed them quickly before sliding off the bed and offering her my hand.

“You will just get a stern talking to. Me, they will show to the door. Come, we need to get dressed.” It was one of the hardest things I have had to say. She made a face at me, but crawled across the bed to me, causing me to wonder if I have finally lost my mind to want to go back to work instead of crawl into bed next to her and make love with her all over again.

I watched her walk over to her suitcase and pull out bra and panties. Comfort for the rest of the afternoon and I enjoyed watching her pull them on, almost as sexy as helping her take them off. I recovered her stockings and corset and passed it over to her as she placed them into the bag. She had already pulled out a pair of pants and a new blouse, so I scooped up her skirt and blouse and shook them once and laid them over the back of the chair, silk on wool, and began pulling on my own clothes.

Fully dressed, she walked over to me, pressing her room key into my hand and wrapping her arms around my neck again and kissing me again. I held her to me, kissing her back and feeling the passion building again.

“You missed a button,” I tell her, bending to kiss the curve of her breast before doing up the wayward button.

“Who said I missed it?” she asked, the playful gleam returning to her eyes.

“Good point,” I responded, kissing her again, not wanting to leave anymore than she did, but finally, time caught up with us and I took the lead, breaking away and taking her hand in mine. She protested all the way out the door and tried to change my mind again as we rode the elevator to the lobby. She was almost successful.

We walked back to the office, releasing our hands only at the last possible moment.

“What time are you coming by tomorrow,” she asked as we walk through the door.

“Around 6:30 if that is not too early for you?” I respond.

“You may have to wake me up,” she says with a smile.

“It will be my pleasure,” I say as she walks to the elevator to head up to her meetings and I head for the stairs to the basement and my cubicle, my mind already thinking about how I am going to wake her up tomorrow.