David was on his second shirt when Yvette arrived, having abandoned this one’s predecessor only moments before when he’d at last talked himself out of it. He’d nearly talked himself out of the pants as well.  Normally, he prided himself on talking other people out of their pants, but there seemed to be no good options for men that fell between the range of jeans and slacks.  Someday perhaps, he would make the leap to slacks, but until then he was stuck with two colors of denim. 

Ding!

And that was where David found himself when the doorbell announced her presence from downstairs. He was already striding hurriedly towards the stairway when he forced himself to stop, and gather himself, and return to his bathroom where he ceded a final once over in the mirror before spraying on too much cologne. 

“Because I changed my shirt,” he reminded himself. 

And even as he said the words, the little bottle of cologne he was holding gave up the ghost, spending the last of itself in a cloud of fragrant arrogance that hung idly on the corners on David’s rough edges.

“It’s just sex.” His fingers gave a sharp, anxious snap. “Nothing else.”

Ding!

The door was opened gradually, and without any apparent eagerness, or desperation.  David wondered if it was possible to open a front door casually, and when he was satisfied he had done so, he let himself look upon the woman that stood without. 

Yvette wore a tight top, striped with various shades of purple, and stood framed against the darkness of the evening sky and the flakes of a falling storm. The snow swirled about her, and a wide smile beamed from her face.  She stepped forward into the hug that David had already decided on before ever answering the door.  

“Hey b- gorgeous,” David stuttered. So much for all the practice. 

“Hey yourself.”

He closed the door behind them and led Yvette into the living room of his tired old condo.

“Nice place,” she offered genuinely. 

“It really isn’t,” he promised. 

“What are you making?”  Yvette could see easily into the confines of David’s diminutive little kitchen, where his efforts at slicing cabbage into coleslaw had ultimately been abandoned in favor of getting ready. 

“Fish tacos,” he admitted. “And I need your help.”

Yvette was halfway through slicing the vegetables, or close enough to it, when the blade slipped and she nicked her knuckle. 

“It could be worse,” David laughed as he wrapped her finger in a band-aid.  “It could have been the cheesegrater.”  He held up the bright green fabric of his own bandage, where it clung to the middle finger of his off-hand. 

Then he turned away from her, back to the tortillas he was struggling to toast on the stove, and intent on making a joke about a band-aid being ‘sort of like a condom for your fingers.’ Luckily he never got the chance. 

“David-”

He turned, and Yvette was there. 

Not there. 

Here. 

Her face, with its innocent, youthful features, occupied a space merely inches from his own.  Her smile, showing teeth much whiter and more perfect than Davd’s own, was full of warmth and sensuality. And her eyes, speaking openly of mischief, remained open as she pulled his head into hers for a long, reckless kiss.  

Live here.

He set his spatula aside and let his hands explore her back, over the thin fabric of her blouse and along lean, taut muscle that seemed to exist everywhere beneath her skin.  She held his neck and pulled her body into him, fitting herself along his chest and hips with parts of her both giving and firm.  David let himself fall back slightly, holding her about the waist and lower shoulders as his weight relaxed against the imitation stone countertop, in the corner of his shabby little kitchen. Yvette’s lips gave way to his, then pushed back firmly, never needing more than the slightest of gestures to lead David’s own.

 “Oh, hi,” he said dumbly, when she’d at last released him.

“Hi,” she repeated.

***

The fish tacos were bland and unimaginative, but she never mentioned it.  They sat on the couch in his living room, the one that had been banished to the basement of the old house in favor of first-string furniture. The two of them sat sipping Old Fashioneds that Yve had whipped up, listening to music that was currently David’s.

“We don’t have to listen to this,” David offered, feeling suddenly ready to abandon the playlist he had carefully constructed in preparation for the evening’s activities. “Do you have something you like?”

“I like musicals.”

“Do you have…something else?”

Yve did, recommending an artist that David ought to have remembered.  She sat half a cushion’s length from him now but their hands had found each other regardless.  The words of the song came in clearly enough from the speaker of David’s t.v.

Pushing past the limits

Trippin’ on hallucinogenics 

“Do I know this?” asked David.  “I might know this.”

“You should,” smiled Yvette. “I think one of my siblings introduced me to it. Or maybe it was my ex.”

“Are you close?”

“With my siblings or my ex?” She took another sip from her drink. “Either way the answer is ‘yes.’”

“With your siblings,” he said, trying to divert conversation away from unwanted territory. 

“I am,” she admitted.  “I wasn’t always though. We grew up super religious, and my dad made his living working for the church.  I was the first one to leave it, and… the rest of them followed.  Since then, we’ve started to actually get to know each other; accept each other for who we are instead of who we all used to pretend to be.”

Drunk and in Seattle

Two more Xans and without a paddle

David’s head swam with such an ideal notion. 

“Are you close with your family?”

“What?” He looked up to see that she was still smiling at him, her hand rubbing lightly at his own, and he forced his thoughts back to where the conversation awaited his response. 

I can’t remember your face, or your hair, or your name

Or your smile

“They’re not really part of my story,” he lied, “siblings and family I mean.”  

But if Yvette saw his evasion, she gave no indication of pursuing it. “Yeah,” she agreed, “It can all be bitter-sweet; family, siblings, exes.  But I like bitter-sweet.”  She swirled the Old Fashioned around in her tumbler.

“You really are a whiskey girl,” David mused. 

“I really am.”

“How do you feel about tequila?”

“Oh, I love a shot of tequila when it’s dressed.”  Her eyes again held a look of playful malevolence. “You know why we dress up tequila shots, right?”

“Why?” 

“So we can undress them.”

“That’s… a great line.”

“Right?”

David thought that warranted a reshuffling of their proximities from one another, so he used the opportunity to adjust his non-slacks jeans as he scooted in slightly closer. 

Cuz I carried on like the wayward son

And now through and through I have come undone

“I have some tequila, if you’d like to help me undress it,” he offered. 

“Hmmm,” she considered. “I would, but I can’t stay long tonight.”

And now I am just but the wayward man.

“Oh?” He forced his face to remain placid.  “How long do I have you?”

“Probably ‘til ten,” she said through an apologetic grin.  “The storm means I should probably give myself time to get back.”

What with my bloodshot eyes, and my shaky hands.

David didn’t bite at his lip, rub his temples, snap his fingers, or even let the unreadable half smile slip from his face.  Afterall, he’d been fooled before.  “No problem,” he said, hating unnecessary curfews and vowing silently to disregard them.  Then he clinked his glass against her own, and scooted in a little closer. 

***

The time was already 9:24 pm when David found himself on his couch with the beautiful blonde swede, Yvette, firmly entrenched in his lap.  She climbed upon him gracefully, smelling of whiskey and warmth and craned her neck to lead him through another deep, passionate, kiss. His hands, which had moved from her palm, to her forearm, to the rest of her, had tired of exploring the safer parts of Yve’s body.  They reached now beneath the back of her pantline to explore the shape of her ass, and David couldn’t help but let out an unintelligible but excited groan as his hands found only a thin strap of fabric resting there.

“Yes, that’s a thong, David.”  She pulled back from the kiss long enough to laugh. 

David laughed too.  Though the rest of his hands were otherwise occupied, his thumbs now sat poised inconspicuously beneath the hem of Yve’s shirt on her lower back, awaiting further orders. And when he had let his palms test the firmness of her rounded backside sufficiently, his thumbs lifted the back of the fabric and held the way open for the remainder of his fingers. They found nothing but smooth, lean, lines, until they made their way upwards and ran heedlessly into the rounded edges of her more than ample breasts.  When she made no effort to run from him, David gave his wrists a little flick, and felt the fabric of Yve’s top rise to expose the fullness of a truly perfect chest. 

She didn’t say anything, but she stopped kissing him and arched her back.  Her head reclined, taking in the stain-free ceiling high above as David’s mouth joined his hands in worship. 

“Is this okay?” he asked, desiring only one specific answer.

But Yvette’s only response came in the form of rocking her hips slowly along his own, and that was even better.

“Do you want to go upstairs?”  Afterall, it was already 9:28 pm. 

She said nothing but moved her head back in to kiss him again, nodding as she did so.  

And perhaps David should have taken longer to savor that perfect feeling of acceptance, and confidence, and conquest, and fulfillment, but instead he put his hands beneath her and lifted her by the back of her bumper while he stood and carried her to the stairs. 

They paused partway up to tear bits of clothes from one another, their mouths and hands working haphazardly along skin that was newly exposed.  Then they were in his room, and his bed, and beneath the warmth of the covers that hid them further from the storm that still swirled outside. 

“You’re just going right for it, aren’t you?” Yvette giggled. 

David was. “Can you blame me?” He rolled her onto her back, lifting the blankets enough to catch sight of her near naked body here in the deepest confines of his shitty, would-be townhome. She pulled him in close again, and he kissed her in a way that was anything but casual, pausing only a short time before renewing his advance on her, diving face first into her flawless breasts. 

“They really are perfect,” he said between mouthfuls. He kept his thumb pressed softly against the edge of her nipple along the underside of her breast, rubbing at it lightly as he drew nearer to her with his mouth. “Like two Swedish twins.”

“They’re not perfect,” she said anxiously, “and they’re not real.”

But just now, they were the realest things in David’s world. He held them tenderly, though they showed no signs of weakness, and he kissed and sucked at them with every intention of trying to tell her what it all meant. He told her with his lips how he had waited for this moment, and with his hands that he would not fumble what was in his grasp.  He worked, and waited, and ran his cock rhythmically against her until he felt her body begin to move in harmony with his own, while her breath came in short, erratic gasps.

Then he slid himself down the length of her, his tongue flitting along a scar that ran astride her navel, before he pulled at her thong.  The wet little thing retreated to her knees, and ankles, and beyond, until it had left the story completely. 

This moment.

And for reasons that neither of them understood, David and Yvette both paused there, considering one another’s naked forms in the lowlight of the evening, across an expanse of longing and waiting.  They were not young, not anymore, and there was more than enough evidence to suggest that they had found each other now on the tail end of their sojourn. But they were regardless, coiled in anticipation and feigning at connection in every way that mattered, until David lowered his smile and pressed it firmly between the wetness of Yvette’s legs.

“Ooooohhh god!” she moaned. Oh god, indeed.  David tasted Yvette with his lips, drinking in the salty sweetness of her while exploring the folds that guarded her entrance. “OoooohhHH,” she continued, and he held her hips firmly with his hands as he knocked at the door with the tip of his tongue, before pushing the thing open to step inside. “MMMMYYYY GOD!” 

He smiled as he explored, though she couldn’t see it. The corners of his mouth arched upwards as he reached inside to lick along the top of the ceiling, trying to catch it and hook it with the point of his lingua.  With each of her cries, his cock grew more bold beneath him, until it ached as he rocked it against the mattress. And when he was sure she had approved of his work, he snatched a condom from where he had hidden it near his bed, and sheathed himself with unimaginable, vigorous, excitement. 

“OHHHHH.”

“My gOD!”

Her legs, lithe and muscular, pulled back as he pushed into her.  The look of Yve, pinned gracefully beneath him, was enough to spur him into a giddy eagerness. He wanted to devour it, all of it, the entirety of the moment and belch it forth again as something else – new and twisted and his. He wanted the surety that came with knowing that instances such as these would be lived again across an eternity of lust and adventure, if only to reassure himself that he belonged there. But he’d been fooled before.  So instead he forced himself to slow down, and press only the tip of himself into her… and perhaps a little more, as he made residence in this most perfect of moments.

Her hands ran along his arms and shoulders, or across the muscles of his upper arms. She pulled at him eagerly, moving him a little faster but accepting his prodding even as her body squeezed at him with all of its force.  Then her face, which had tightened into a ball, broke in a look of shock and she let out a cry that had its roots in places celestial. 

“OOOooohhhhHHHhhhhh,” she sang. “OOooooh FUcK!”

But that wasn’t all. She did it again when he pressed in a little further, wailing her euphoria as her body shook with the release. Then again, and again, making use of every inch of him in her efforts to have all of it.  Until at last David could not help but laugh at the sultry absurdity of it all.

“You seriously come that easily?”

Yve nodded as her hips again gave birth to a rolling, orgasmic wave. She never let him out of her sight as she continued the words of her alien little chorus, so David ventured further and reached beneath her legs to take hold of her elbows, keeping her captive as he brought his weight down to infiltrate Yvette’s deepest places.  The end of him snaked around a little corner and into her hidden back room, and David listened in amazement as her tone changed from ecstatic hunger to one of panting desperation.  Which of course, only spurred him on harder. 

“I….. I…. I…. ,” she begged, her face now a healthy mix of pressure and longing. “I…” Whatever she intended on saying, it was lost in the song as the lyrics became something of an afterthought; until David pulled out of her just to keep from finishing the performance too quickly.

“Ohhhh fuck,” he laughed, holding his cock lightly enough so as to not risk setting off any further reactions. 

Yve was rising to her knees. “I wanna be on top,” she ordered with a smile, and David found himself falling back against the comfort of his own pillows as Yve once again climbed aboard him. She held his cock firmly in place as she guided him in, then took to arching and releasing her lower back as her hips swayed back and forth.

“Whaaaaat??” David laughed. His hands raised up appreciatively to her hips but she pushed them down as she intensified her movements.

“Let me drive.”

David could only laugh at that.  She was, afterall, an excellent driver.  The sight of her nude, marble sculpture of a body perched atop him made David’s own hips buck and hitch as he was driven, and he cursed the thin layer of latex between them that robbed him of having her completely. 

“It feels even better without it.” She whispered the word in his ear, as though reading his mind. 

“Unnhhh huh,” was all David managed. 

At intervals, his hands would raise, wanting more, and attempting to intercede in her driving.  But each time Yve would pin them down again as her hips gained speed.  As before, her song soon escaped her lips as she screamed, and died, and was reborn once more amid the cries of new life.

And when David at last found himself back on his knees and perched behind this orgasmic little goddess, he did not last long- retreating quickly from within her and stripping the condom as she lay back and tugged at him, sending a wash of him along her breasts and stomach.

He shook his head and apologized, though only out of obligation, and made to leave to get a towel.  To his surprise however, Yvette caught him by the arm and pulled him down unto her, holding him in a final kiss until their skin pressed together in the dewey web of creation. 

“Well fuck,” David sighed to himself.  “You’re-”

“Just Yve.”

Or possibly, something else.

***

The time was several hours past 10:00 pm when Yvette turned to him and said something that David didn’t expect. 

“Don’t catch feelings, okay?”

He considered the implications of such a statement, though his laugh most likely sent the wrong message. 

“What?” she asked. “I’m serious.”  

“I get it.”

They had just finished their second round of assisted couples calisthenics and David found himself currently balancing the pleasant smell of Yvette’s hair with the satisfying ache that he now felt in his own deep places. 

“It’s just that, I’m coming out of a long marriage and this is my time for myself.”  She pulled David’s chin up to stare squarely into his eyes. “I mean it, David. I need it.”

And David, who wasn’t high, or even drunk, though not for lack of trying, said something then that was completely out of character.  “I’m going to feel … whatever I’m going to feel.”  It was in fact, such a strange thought to express, that it may as well have been written into someone else’s story.  “It’s not your job to worry about my feelings.”

Yvette nodded, but looked nervous.

He buried his head once more into the crook of her neck and offered her the most comforting words he could find.  “Don’t worry though,” he lied again.  “I don’t want anything more than this.”

“You promise?”

He bit his lip, not that she could see it. “Of course.”

He closed his eyes and immersed himself in a world of danger, and seduction, and the thrill of each new victory. It was a familiar world, where each new day held endless possibility, and the youthful euphoria of escape. A world filled with outlaws, and monsters, and heartbreaking endings.

But a part of him. 

Just.

Here.

Dreamt, of something else.