Roxannes Experience

Our two perspiring glasses sat at the bar, ignorant of our benign conversation. For a fraction of a second I wished to be the ice in that glass, and watching the cool lines of liquid run down the translucent edge of the container, I could feel my own sweat mimicking the action. To be honest, I couldn't come to terms with why I was so nervous. This was just another night. This was the same bar that I had been frequenting intermittently for almost a year. And yet now, now that I was having a bit of success in the sole reason I had decided to start going out to bars, I was at a loss for words and reason. My tongue was thick and my brain was jumbled, words that were usually familiar to me clashing about in the dark space of my mind and coming out foreign.

"Hey," she said, giving me an olive branch. Her eyes were chocolate, her skin cool cream. "You don't have to be so nervous around me. Honestly, relax. You are working me over too much in your mind."

I have to say, this line made things infinitely worse. Great. Now I was not only a man nearing my thirties, stumbling over his own words, but pity had entered into the relationship before we had even left the bar.

"I suppose I'm nervous," I said, scratching the back of my neck.

"Maybe. Am I bothering you? Maybe I'm drunk. Are you drunk?" she asked me.

I shook my head, knowing my body well enough to tell off the familiar feelings. "No. I only had that Long Island and a White Russian. And enough bread for the two of us. Are you?" I asked.

She shook her head. "I'm fine. I think I just need some air," she said.

"Oh, okay," I answered, deflated. I was already reaching for my jacket.

"I mean, you should come along," she said.

I shook my head. What was wrong with me? Get it together! "Right. Right! Okay, let's go," I said.

"You really need to calm down," she said.

"Oh shut up," I said, laughing. She laughed with me. I put a few bills on the counter and helped her slip into her jacket, which was entirely too large for her. There was something picturesque about it. Cute. I pushed the door open and she stepped out into the cool night air, her black leather boots making a comforting sound on the concrete sidewalk. I felt a chill run through me and hugged my arms to my sides. She gave me a faint smile, pulling gently at my arm until I lowered my hand and she threaded her fingers through mine.

Her name was Roxanne. "Roxy?" I asked. She stared daggers at me. I made some quip about being named Roy. Roy and Roxy. Lucky for me she was brave enough to weather my bad humor until we landed on more familiar territory. Our favorite movie was Pulp Fiction. We both drank black coffee. We were both writers. And on and on it went. Roxanne and Roy. The hours in the bar passed quickly, and now we were in the world. The cool breeze moved us along, wandering down the main avenue hand in hand.

"Do you live nearby?" she asked me.

"No, not really. A friend of mine clued me into this bar a little over a year ago. I don't know why I haven't found something closer to my apartment," I answered.

"Well, it's kitschy. I will go out of my way for charm. In fact I'm a good twenty minutes away, at least. A girlfriend from work took me hear one night after a bad break up. Oh man, I don't know why I said that," she said.

"It's fine, don't worry. You can tell me anything you want. If I have any talent at all it's listening," I said.

"Roy. You're being modest. You already told me you are a writer. How long did you say?" she asked, tucking a thread of brown hair behind one ear.

"Oh I think I've been coming up with bad stories since I was a kid. Only recently have I taken it seriously. I have one book on the way, I don't know if it's going to go anywhere. Nothing like yourself," I said.

"Stop," she smiled as she said it, blushing. I knew of her book before I knew of her as a person. Our meeting was chance, and I was only slightly embarrassed that at first I didn't believe her. It was only after she brought a copy of To Thorn and Sighs out of her book bag and gave it to me. Signed it and everything.

"That felt really snobby, I'm sorry," she laughed as I stuffed the book into my jacket pocket.

"No really, it's fine. I'm impressed. I think I read your first book the year after I graduated college. Ever since then I've been working hard myself. It's a tough market," I said.

"It is. Took me years. Is it okay for me to babble on about this? Really, you don't have to humor me. I am pretty easy going," said Roxanne.

"You know I don't think I'd have the heart to interrupt your train of that," I said with a smile.

"I can't tell if you are actually this kind or if you are still so nervous," she said.

I chuckled. "A bit of both. So what do you think, want to keep walking?" I ventured.

She gave a few heartbeats of consideration. "You know what? I'm only going to go home and draw a bath and maybe read. I could take one night off of being an old lady," she said.

I laughed.

"Are you laughing at me being old or sitting in a bath?" she asked with a coy smile.

"If you are old then I'm done looking in a mirror. And I wouldn't laugh at you in a bathtub," I said.

She gave me a bright grin. "You know Roy, I think you actually might be nice. It's not an act or a defense," she said.

"Maybe you're right. Here, take these steps," I said.

"Down to the park? Is it safe at night?" she asked.

"Sometimes when I just can't get that right scene down I will walk here. The park is really nice, and there's a full moon out. This is a pretty safe neighborhood," I said.

Roxanne nodded in her puffy jacket. "I think I trust you Roy. Lead on," she said.

We walked hand in hand for some time, brushing past bushing and the low hanging branches of trees. In the day the park was really nothing special. At night however, it took on a new sort of life. The moon caught the leaves in the trees and turned them to spun silver. There was a flower garden in the southern end of the park, but I decided to avoid it. I lead her as nonchalantly as I could toward a thickened grove of apple trees, sitting down on a park bench. She sat next to me. Roxanne cocked her eyebrows in expectation.

I leaned in for a kiss, and she met me. Her lips were soft and cold. We kissed with an increasing passion, our fingers staying entwined. Kissing her brought on memories of being a teenager and meeting in secret after school. I smiled at the memory and broke our kiss. Roxanne brought my face back in, gently pushing her tongue into my mouth. She tasted like sweet alcohol, and I met her tongue with my own. After a few minutes of this I broke the kiss and looked into her eyes. We both smile.

"These benches are really comfortable," I said.

"Yeah," she agreed and nodded, her cheeks flushed.

"Why don't you lay down?" I suggested.

A priceless look. "You move from awkward to aggressive in the span of a kiss with tongue?" she asked me.

I chuckled. "It's not what you think. Really," I ventured.

Wary of me, she laid back while I stood up. I took my coat from around my shoulders and bundled it up under her head so she would be comfortable. When I placed my hands on her knees, her head shot up and I could feel every muscle in her body go rigid.

"Wait. I don't know about this," she said. I could hear that timid tone in her voice, I knew what she was afraid of.

"Really it's fine. I love doing this," I promised.

She hesitated. "It's been a while since I've dated or anything like it. I'm not...I'm not in the grooming for it," she said.

"Oh it's okay honestly. You scared I'll find something you don't expect down there?" I asked.

Roxanne chuckled at my crudeness. She seemed to go for my awkward presentation. "Okay, okay. But it's your idea. Don't blame me if you want to end the date early. God, I feel like I'm in high school again," she mumbled.

I smiled at that. I knew it would be a challenge getting her to relax, and I was up for it.

"At least I am wearing a skirt. God, I don't know why I said that. What are you doing to me?" she asked nervously.

I lifted her skirt just above her knees, smiling at the sight of black lace panties. She was expecting something tonight, and I was just glad it was me. She was breathing deeply, her eyes closed. I made sure to leave some of the material of her dress under her ass so she wouldn't be chilled. I brought the panties to her ankles, and then slipped them into my pocket.

"Don't close your eyes," I said. "Look at the stars. The moon. It's really beautiful up there. There are so many designs you can see through the branches of the trees."

Roxanne's eyes fluttered open. Her head rested on my jacket and she watched the space beyond the leaves, the stars twinkling overhead and the moon pregnant with white light. Even when I placed my hands on her thighs and felt her elastic flesh, she did not look to me. Her breathing quickened and she let out little sighs, but she was wrapped in her own world. This is what I wanted.

My fingers walked up her soft skin and I inhaled her scent. A guilty pleasure. Then again the entire activity was more for me than for her, something I wouldn't admit to most. I knew what she meant about not dating. Her patch of her was dark and mostly untamed, but I didn't mind. As I brought my face to her skin, I felt her tense up. I placed a hand on each hip, gripping her skin gently with my fingers, and let my tongue move slowly across her skin, just to taste and to have her open like a flower.

As my lips touched hers and I tasted that mix of sweat and musk, I felt her body finally give way to me. She smelled of soap, laundry, and perfume. With each successive lick the taste strengthened and my scents filled with nothing but her biology. In only a few minutes I had relaxed her completely, and her femininity turned to liquid. Her sighs grew deeper, louder. That part of her brain that kept her human or animal switched over to the side of evolution, and I could feel her melt into nerve endings.

I licked the length of her slit with passion, my tongue and lips coated with her. On occasion I would push the material of her dress aside and look towards her face. Still she had not glanced toward me. Her eyes were wide open, her lips pursed to whistle, her mind entirely focused on the simple pleasure of life and beauty. I returned to her darkness, kissing my way along her thighs and tasting her once more. I brought one of her lips between my lips, sucking gently and doing the same with the other. On occasion she would kick her legs, the muscle spasms involuntarily pushing me away. I massaged her soft skin and brought my mouth to her mound, my tongue spelling words in her softest place.

She was pure liquid, soft and warm and full of that scent that I craved. With each movement of my tongue I brought her closer to oblivion, and her back arched on the bench. My hands on her ass, I massaged her as my mouth worked, my tongue moving in circles and bringing taste across my tongue and down my throat. Roxanne would come close, I would hear the hitch in her breath and the powerful gasp, and my wet lips would pull back and kiss the length of her thighs, the backs of her legs. My fingers wondered the landscape of her soft skin, and I massaged her ass with my fingers. When she calmed, when her back met the wood of the bench once more and the intensity of her breathing and sounds would lessen, I returned.

I became obsessed with the taste. My world was darkness. Between her legs, hidden by her skirt, I licked with wild abandon and teased her unceasingly. Her fingers wove themselves into my hair, directing me, controlling me. She found a rhythm and a control. Her grip on me would strengthen when I found that perfect spot, and I worked hard with my tongue buried in her soft folds to feel her small hands grip me tightly. I licked her beyond the point of my jaw aching, until the pressure faded away and I was nothing but a pleasure source for her, no longer an individual. I pressed my tongue in deep, bringing her to me, tasting her, my lips on her lips, my mouth covering her mound and filling with the different senses of her hair and her smooth skin. Again and again she tried to bring herself to the breaking point of climax, and I would not let her have it. I became drawn into my own world, my tongue and her soft core, until those fingers in my hair pulled roughly and I was brought back into the chilled air of the park.

"Go ahead Roy," she said, her eyes finally meeting mine. Her cheeks were flushed brightly and her eyes were wide and searching. "Let me go."

She lay her head back down on my jacket before I could return, her eyes once again searching the stars. It was a memory we were creating. An experience. A pure perfect slice of time that she could keep with her that would be more real than her writing, or mine. A shared memory made up of an entirely human experience. Pleasure, desire, drive. Taste, touch. Ecstasy and vulnerability.

I returned to her, my tongue moving deep, bringing her taste to me. My world was filled with the smells of her existence. Sweat, musk, perfume, soap. I licked the letters of her name. I spelled my own. I used words that were sitting just at the edges of my mind, I wrote paragraphs of my manuscript into her sweet soft folds. Then, at that final moment when she could hold on no longer, she entered oblivion. Her mind went blank, her eyes finally closing and leaving the full scope of the sky, the moon, the stars, the breaks in the branches of the trees. Her back arched and her ass left the bench for just a moment, my hands lightly weighing her down. When she remembered to breathe again she let out a moan that was entirely beyond herself, letting out a piece of her existence that had been cornered and forgotten about.

I sat back from her, slowly bringing her panties back over her ankles and settling about her ass. I pulled the material of her dress down her legs, and sat in the grass so that my head was just near hers. The dew that had covered my knees now soaked full through my pants, and yet I did not mind the chill of water. I waited until she was ready to speaking, letting her have her moment of pure tranquility and peace after taking so much from her.

"Roy, tell me you do that to all your dates," Roxanne said quietly.

"Just the ones I really like. Well, the ones who let me do that," I replied.

"Christ. Who wouldn't let you do that?" she breathed.

"The ones who are nervous about the experience. I mean really, it takes a lot to relax like that. I'm surprised you were up for it," I replied.

"Well I'm sort of a connoisseur of such experiences. I won't say no to an earnest man," she said.

I moved in to kiss her, forgetting that my lips and tongue were strong of her taste. Delightfully, she met my kiss and put her tongue in my mouth.

"Do you want to go back to my place? I think I owe you a little something," she said.

"Yes. Don't rush yourself though. You can get up when you are ready," I replied.

She nodded and closed her eyes once more. After quite some time I thought she was sleeping, and finally she rose on shaky legs. I put my jacket back on, thankful for the warmth. We left the park together, turning down streets that were not familiar to me. I rolled my tongue about my mouth, saddened that I was already losing some of her taste. I smiled. I was happy I met Roxanne.