It was maybe three weeks after we had first slept together that Kelia invited me to her vernissage at the Kastella furniture store.
Our first fucks together were delicious, wild and heady. In a moment of heat, she had said that I could call her up out of the blue and ask her flat-out to come over and suck my cock. I told her the same, to go down on her, or for anything else she wanted. If had been half a dare, and half a titillating joke.
I showed up alone and glimpsed her speaking to a cluster of well-heeled yuppies with plastic wine glasses in their hands. She looked so slim and sweet, in that sexy-professional way: a silver necklace, a snug grey shirt, a navy blue skirt with black leggings beneath it. I kissed her on both cheeks, my hand resting on her hip for a few seconds longer than usual. I mingled and then stood in front of a self-portrait she'd done, the painting's eyes staring out at me. She came over and watched me evaluating it.
"I wouldn't necessarily mind having that in my house," I said.
"Well, I could always give you the photos it's based on," she said cheekily.
I looked her in the eyes and said that this certainly seemed like anytime and anywhere, and that a promise was a promise. Her eyes grew wide as a look of amused comprehension came over her face and she blushed ever so slightly.
"You sure have a lot of nerve, mister," she said as she laughed in disbelief. She crossed her arms around her stomach, then tentatively placed a finger on her collar bone.
Kelia looked around the room. "Actually, I would love an opportunity to get away from some of these people," she said as she regained her pluck. "Perhaps you'd like to see more of my work—which I like to keep in the storeroom? I'll give you a signal. Hope you can catch it," she said, her smile beaming. Then she turned and walked away. I watched her hourglass figure sway back and forth as she put on a little walk.
For the next half-hour or so, I watched Kelia elegantly float about the room, everyone vying for her attention. But I could tell she was secretly nervous; she laughed at jokes too easily and fidgeted with her skirt. Finally, as the room filled up, I saw her duck down by the wine table. She stared at me for just a few seconds until I met her gaze head-on, then she slipped through a door behind the table. Without wanting to appear rushed, I quickly weaved through the crowd, opened the door and shut it behind me. I was at the bottom of a staircase. Nearly at the top stood Kelia, the bottle dangling from her hand, her hand on her hip. "I could only get white!" she said in a harsh whisper.
I walked up the stairs, catching a glimpse up Kelia's short skirt as she opened her wine. In the dark of the fabric, I saw that what I thought were leggings were actually stockings that went way up her legs. I could see the two slivers of white thigh that peeked out below the crotch of her panties. I stopped one step below the one she was standing on and kissed her. As her mouth pressed back at mine, I went under the front her skirt, dipped into her panties, and stroked her with the back of my fingers. I could feel just the teensiest patch of hair. Kelia's knees buckled as I touched her; she nibbled on my bottom lip.
"How fast do you think you can make me come?" she whispered in my ear. "I'm so stressed out with all these people here."
I reached around and squeezed her ass, feeling the silkiness of her underwear.
"This skirt should save us time," I said.
"I know this was supposed to be all about you, but I really need you to fuck me," Kelia pleaded, her voice soft in my ear. She raised her thigh and wrapped a leg around me.
We rushed into the storeroom. Just inside the door, there was a wooden dresser. I pushed Kelia against it and she jumped up and sat on the hard wood veneer. She opened her legs and I ran my hand between her warm thighs.
