The Museum Visit

You get to the art museum at the same time as last week, the same time as every week. It's your ritual, your time alone, your time to be at peace. You glide from artwork to artwork and the world floats away. Replaced with the landscapes, portraits, and saturated colors of the paintings lining the stark white walls. You sink into them, let them envelope you, let them seep into your subconscious. You've seen them all before, but every week there's something that surprises you. Something new, something fresh, something inspiring. This week is no different, but it's not a painting that catches your eye. From across the room you see a man admiring Canova's sculpture "Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss." At this hour you are usually all alone in the museum, it's why you choose this time. At first you want him to leave, you hate him, and he is disrupting your peace. You stare at him intently, trying to urge him to move along with your mind, as if you could conjure the power of The Force. It is useless, he is motionless. Admiring the sculpture, in his own little world. You intensify your gaze, unable to concentrate on anything else. Finally he begins to move, but before you realize it, he has turned towards you. Your eyes meet. His blue eyes meet yours and he greets you with a polite smile, punctuated with dimples. You smile back and quickly shoot your gaze back to the art on the wall.

"Dammit!" You think to yourself, he's kinda cute. The two of you circle the main exhibit hall ensuring you always keep your distance. As if you are dancing the tango, you keep in lock step with each other. When he moves to the next piece, so do you, and vice versa. You know he's watching you, you can feel it. And you are watching him. You occasionally catch him looking. You smile every time you catch him, and he smiles back. He is handsome. You can feel something between the two of you. Suddenly there are butterflies in your stomach.

He turns the corner and disappears into the next hall. Inexplicably, you now miss him. You miss his presence, his subtle gazes, the flirting dance the two of you were playing. You uncharacteristically rush through the final paintings in order to catch up to the mysterious man. You turn the corner expecting him to be on the other side of the hall by now, but he is still on the first painting. You know this painting well, Jean-Honoré Fragonard's "The Swing." He is staring at it intently and you are suddenly in the uncomfortable position of looking at the same artwork as a total stranger. He looks to you and smiles, "hello," he says.

"Um...hi" you say back, unsure what to do, you look at the painting. He does the same. You are both silent, taking in the motion and playfulness of the painting. The silence is comfortable. The man sets you at ease. Without saying a word, it nonetheless feels as if a conversation is occurring between the two of you. It's as if the two of you have known each other for years and no words need to be spoken.

"I like her dress." The man breaks the silence.

"Me too," you say with a nod, "he's getting quite an eyeful." You smile widely at him.

"That he is!" he replies with a wink in his voice. "My name is Randall," he says as he extends his hand for a shake.

You take his hand, it is strong and full. "Jane," you reply with a smile, "pleasure to meet you."

"Do you come here often?" he asks as if already knowing the answer.

"Every week. Why?" You inquire.

"You move about the place with familiarity, with comfort," he replies.

"I love it here." You proclaim. "I don't think I've ever seen you here, is this your first time?"

"I was just hired as the new art director," he explains, "I was just getting myself familiar with everything."

"Oh!" You say with excitement in your voice. This means you may see more of him. "Cool." you say, trying to remain...cool.

"I'd love to hear the thoughts of a regular patron!" He says, clearly indicating his desire to see more of you. You are exceedingly pleased to hear this.

"Yeah!" you say trying to mask your eagerness, "I could probably offer something."

"Great!" he replies, letting slip his excitement, "How about next week, at your usual time?"

"Perfect!" you reply. You gulp, the butterflies in your stomach have intensified.

The two of you continue through the museum. Taking your time with each piece, subtly flirting. You arrive at the last painting far too soon. You don't want it to end. The two of you stand before Bosch's "The Garden of Earthly Delights" and you both immediately blush.

He looks at you with a smile, "this one has always been one of my faves!" He winks at you. You smile back and push his shoulder in a playful manner. He chuckles as he catches his footing.

"Mr. Stephens?!" a man shouts with a standard museum whisper from down hall, "meeting in 5!"

"Till next week then lady Jane?" He says with a bow.

"Yes!" you reply.

He turns to you and says with a coy gaze, "I can't wait to sample your offerings!" You smile back, at a loss for words and can only muster a flirting wave goodbye. He turns and disappears into the bowels of the museum.

The next week goes by at a snail's pace. You can't wait to get back to the museum and meet with Randall. You've picked out the perfect outfit. A pink sundress adorned with subtle flowers and a small bit of lace, a nod to the painting where you met.

You arrive at the museum and immediately see Randall. He has clearly been waiting for you. He looks you up and down and you can tell he immediately gets the reference your outfit is aiming for. You walk up to him at a quickened pace.

"Jane!" he says energetically, "so glad you could make it!" He embraces you, which should feel odd seeing as how you barely know each other. But he feels familiar, he is comforting, you enjoy it. "Let's go to my office, it's this way." He leads you down the hallway and the sexual tension is thick. Your heart is beating rapidly, you are nervous. The only thing calming you down is Randall seems equally as nervous. He tries to make obligatory small talk, and you oblige. You walk down a long corridor of empty offices and sections under construction. "Sorry," he explains, "my office is way back here. They are still doing a lot of work as you can see." You smile and nod. "But it's nice and quiet...at the moment at least...they'll arrive in an hour or so and start banging and carrying on." He yammers on as he gestures to the construction zones. His nervousness is cute, charming. Finally you arrive and he opens the door to his office, you follow him in. "Sorry it's still a bit of a mess," he explains, "still moving in."

"It's OK," you answer. As you make your way around some clutter, he tries to close the door behind you. The office is small and space is limited. The two of you are very close. As you try to maneuver you trip over a box and inadvertently fall into his arms. He catches you and looks down into your eyes.

"Oh! I'm sorry are you ok?!" he says very apologetically.

"Oh, I'm fine," you assure, keeping your eyes locked. He holds you for what feels like an eternity. You're enjoying it. Then, without warning he kisses you on the lips. Your heart skips a beat. He pulls back. You have a look of shock. It was nice, but also very forward. Who does this guys think he is, you think to yourself.

"I'm...so sorry," he starts to explain as he lets you go, "I should not have assum..."

You interrupt him by returning the kiss, planting it right on his lips. He embraces you once more as you kiss each other passionately. Then it's as if your animal instincts kick in. You claw at each other, feeling each other, kissing each other. You begin making out furiously. He pins you against the wall and begins feeling you up, exploring your body with his hands. You moan and encourage him on. He kisses your neck, cups your breasts and keeps his body pinned against yours. Your hands grasp at him, feeling his body as well, running your hands through his hair. All the while taking breaks to kiss deeply and allow your tongues to take part in their own tango. You lift one leg up and prop it against the back of a chair. You begin unbuttoning his shirt and feeling his bare chest and abdomen. He takes that opportunity to run his hand up your dress, along your inner thigh. You are giddy with anticipation. He reaches the prize, you are not wearing any panties. He smiles as he discovers this.

Were you secretly hoping this would happen? He feels your wetness, which is immense by now. You moan with desire, wanting him to explore more. He continues kissing you as his hands glance across your wanting pussy. He gently massages your clit with his middle finger. You shudder with delight, thrusting your pelvis forward to allow him better access. He slips his finger into you and you sigh with content. He begins slowly making a "come here" motion with his finger, perfectly massaging your g-spot. Your panting intensifies as you hold him tighter. He slips a second finger in, increasing the pleasure. You rock your pelvis against his hand. At the same time you begin fumbling with his belt. Finally, you get it loose and his pants fall to the ground, his cock shooting out at attention. You grasp it and stroke it gently. It is so hard. Is it made of marble?! You think to yourself.

You want it inside you, you crave to be one with him. You pull him closer. He removes his fingers from inside you, but they are soon replaced with the tip of his member. Your feet leave the ground as he enters you and props you against the wall. You wrap your legs and arms around him. He fills you completely and it feels divine. You match his pace as he fucks you against the wall. Your moans of pleasure drown out the rattling of the pictures on the wall. Your wetness drips down your thighs. He pulls back from the wall, still holding you in his arms. You continue to grind against him as he deftly maneuvers the office to the desk. He wipes it clear with a swipe of his arm, causing a crash of office supplies to go clattering to the floor.

You giggle and hold him tightly as you look each other in the eye and kiss deeply. He places you on the desk and spreads your legs wide. You arch your back and let your head drop backwards as he slides in and out of you. This is the perfect angle and you wrap your arms around his neck once more, pulling him close, taking in his scent. He continues pumping and you feel an orgrasm building. You've never cum this fast. You begin breathing quicker. He begins pumping faster. You hold him tighter. Harder, he pumps. Heavier, you breathe. Before long electricity shoots through your body and you go tight as the orgasm rips through you. He continues to fuck you, kiss you, feel you, hold you. You clench tighter.

As the orgasm subsides he pulls out of you and takes you off the desk. He spins you around and bends you over the desk. He hikes up your dress, exposing your ass and grabs a hold of your waist. In a moment he is back inside you, slamming against your backside. You hold on tight to the opposite side of the desk, enjoying the sensation. He holds your hips and pulls them towards himself with every thrust. You've never been this wet before. You hear his breathing quicken and his pace intensifies. You know he is close to cumming. A few more powerful thrusts and he pulls out of you. You look back at him. His eyes dart about the room. He is trying to find someplace to cum. You quickly drop to your knees and take the tip of his cock into your mouth. His release is instantaneous and incredibly powerful as it shoots into the back of your throat. You eagerly swallow his essence and his member, grabbing a hold of his ass cheeks and pulling him towards you. He is more than happy to oblige as he empties himself into your mouth. Spent, he collapses onto the chair behind him. You slink up his body like a sexy snake and straddle him. He cups your ass and pulls you close. You kiss passionately and look deeply into each other's eyes.

"That offering was pretty good," he says with a wink, "we should make this a regular thing!"