"They seem to really want to keep outsiders out," I thought to myself as I drove slowly up the winding driveway to the apartment complex. It was about midnight and neither the building nor the road leading up to it was well lit. Not wanting to end up in the ditch on either side, I took my time driving up.
The headlights of my car washed over a solitary figure standing on the side of the asphalt. I pulled up to it and rolled down my window.
"You can park in one of those spaces about fifty feet down," Thu said a little impatiently, gesturing to the right. She then came around to the passenger side and got in the car. I looked over at her but she just looked out through the windshield. It was a typical warm September night in San Rafael and Thu wore a thin brown T-shirt and matching skirt. Brown worked for her as it contrasted well against her fair skin. She looked younger than thirty-five and part of the reason was because she never tanned. But she also ran and this was evident as I looked over her lithe body.
I put the car in drive and parked in the spot she had reserved for me.
"I'm on the second floor," she said, as she got out of the car.
I followed her upstairs to her apartment.
"It's a small place, but I'm a small girl," she laughed, pointing out the living room, kitchen, and bedroom. It was typical of a 1980s apartment building but I pretended to look around for the sake of courtesy.
I wasn't sure what to do next so I just sat down on the couch. Thu had always been an enigma to me. She was Vietnamese, grew up in the Silicon Valley, and seemingly socially conservative. But the reserved façade hid a repressed Catholic side that was almost shocking.
We had dated for about a year then broken up when she moved to the coast but always kept in touch. Since our break-up we had learned a lot of things about each other that we were afraid to say when we were dating. Ironically, not being together allowed us to be more open with each other.
On one occasion over chat, I mentioned offhand that since she grew up in NorCal, it was understandable that her clothing choices were a little, and I think I used the word 'crunchy'. I completely regretted my slip-up as it made her self-conscious, and she began to question her style. So, as a way of apologizing, for her birthday a few months ago, I bought her some clothing, and among the items were a few items from Frederick's. Before I came to visit, I had joked that I wanted to see her in it. She had agreed on one condition: that we not have sex.
But then here we were.
Thu sat down next to me.
"Did you forget?"
I feigned surprise, "Oh right. Let's take a look."
She reluctantly got up and stood in front of me. She lifted up her skirt, revealing the lace pattern of her black G-string. It was low-cut and semi-see-through but other details could not be made out. Instead of immediately putting her skirt down as I expected her to, she kept the skirt up. I seized the opportunity and let my gaze linger then put my hands on her hips to examine further. I then turned her around - the two strings led to the back side and formed a Y. It was completely revealing - her ass was in full view. I swallowed slightly and kept my hands on her and examined her more closely, putting my face right up to her crotch. My breathing slowed and I was sure she could feel the warmth of my breath on her.
"You can't see much of anything from the front," I said.
"But everything from the back," she said, still holding up her skirt.
"I thought it would be completely see-through," I responded. I examined her again, pulling gently on a string until the material lifted up and I could see her shaven pussy in the half-light. A further pull revealed the two lips of skin that made my heart beat faster.
Keeping my hands on her, I spun her around again. The strings on her sides were twisted. I slowly reached around to her front until I could feel lace. My thumb and index finger crept underneath the strings and untwisted them so that they lay flat against her skin, all the while gently caressing her skin with the rest of my fingers.
On the back Y was a relatively large tag that I offered to cut off for her. Surprisingly she obliged me this act of obsessive-compulsiveness as she had never been tolerant of this part of me. We walked to the kitchen where she found a pair of scissors in a drawer and handed them to me. I bent her over the kitchen counter and lifted up the back of her skirt, revealing her ass in its entirety, then as slowly and as carefully as I could, I cut off the offending tag. My heart was racing and a lump had started rising in my jeans but I pretended nothing was amiss.
"Much better," I said, feeling her ass underneath the G-string, emphasizing her contours and the smoothness now that the tag was gone.
When we moved back to the couch, she again sat next to me. I stood her up and examined the G-string more closely, pulling it away from her at the side to reveal her freshly shaven pussy. It was beautiful, a perfect cleft with a small pussy. I asked her how it felt to wear it. She answered, "it's comfortable but scandalous. The other one is less so..."
The other one?
I asked her to wear it. She went back into the bedroom and changed into a non-lacy G string. I wanted so much to follow her into her bedroom but took a breath and decided to let things play out. This took longer but would be more satisfying... She came back and stood in front of me. I lifted up her skirt to reveal a black triangle of cotton jersey attached to two strings that again wound around the back. I examined this one as well, straightening out the lengths of string, peering down the gaps between material and skin to catch glimpses of her pussy as a warm throbbing began to emanate from below.
"I feel so self-conscious now," she said. "You'll have to take off your shirt."
I obliged.
