Tom's Apartment

The Restaurant filled up fast; the line for tables spilling out to the sidewalk and into the embarcadero center close to my groups patio seating.

"Shit, check that out. Good thing we got here early." My friend Sean sipped the last of his mango margarita on a 12 o'clock Wednesday Cinco de Mayo afternoon.

I was lunching with friends for the fiesta occasion. We talked about jobs and spouses and futures. The drinks flowed freely and in no time the patio was a cacophony of voices and clinking glassware.

In the miles of people I saw him; the guy who came into my coffee shop nearly every morning like clock work 8:30am every weekday Monday through Friday. Tom. Ever the stylish dresser he strolled in wearing a brownish gray suit with a peach colored oxford shirt, no tie; his floppy brown hair he smoothed back in vain for it fell onto his forehead no matter what; his signature boyish bounce walk that I so loved, he went directly to the hostess stand bypassing the line with his friends in tow.

Tom's friends, more likely co-workers, followed his lead. Stereotypes of any office; the tall lanky one with the spider legs, the average Joe, dressed in a polo shirt and khakis with a day planner under his arm, the loner guy who spends too much time at his desk and lacks any sun radiance, who looks to the floor not wanting to be noticed. Tom stands out from his co-workers and it seems he doesn't wish to be seen with any of them. He walks straight to the hostess; smart boy Tom was keen enough to call ahead for reservations.

I try to remain engaged in conversation but find it close to impossible; I know that he's spotted me and he knows I know, yet pretends and plays off like he hasn't seen me, and I in turn do the same. A game we play, who wants the other more, and who's willing to risk.

His quick steps take him near the back of the restaurant towards the bar, far out of my sight. It kills me knowing he's there. All notions of keeping up appearances for my table bound friends disappear, I excuse myself, lay my napkin on the table. I had to find him.

Heart pounding. Palms sweating. My breathing is heavy. I make my way through diners and barmaids, busboys and alcoholics. I prowl towards him. All people in my way are mere sketch drawings compared to my lovely. They're gray and empty all lacking something to make the complete, shadow drawings, incomplete and unfinished. Tom is vivid Technicolor; he stands out in the crowd beacon like calling me to him. I plan to walk past him and make my way to the ladies room, hoping that on my way out he might stop me for a chat. All fails while passing, he grabs hold of my wrist.

"Hi, Fancy seeing you here, I had no idea." He purrs with a slight accent.

"Oh, Hi. Having lunch with friends huh?" I stumble over words.

"Um yeah, well people I work with anyway," his grip tightens, "you going to be around for a while then?"

"Um yeah. My friends are outside, so I'll probably be hanging out for a little while longer."

"Great, well how bout a drink before you run off. Catch me before you leave okay."

"Yeah, sounds good."

I walked to the ladies room thrilling in a kind of victory. I checked myself in the mirror. Nice. My blue eyes glittered in joy. I could see my cheeks were flushed. I reached for my hairbrush and smoothed back my hair, giving the long dark locks loving strokes. I applied my pink lip-gloss and made a quick kissey face in the mirror. Gorgeous.

When I exited he was there leaning with his back to the pale yellow wall. My spaghetti strap fell down my shoulder making it bare and vulnerable. Tom took it upon himself to straighten it for me.

"Well the guys decided to lunch elsewhere, so you think you can escape your friends for a bit and have a drink with me?'

"Yeah, let me just go out and let them know. Give me a sec, I'll be right back."

"Sure, I'll be at the bar." He motioned to a bar booth.

Tom had been coming in our coffee shop regularly for nearly two years. At night before he left work he'd tap gently on the shop's glass window and wave goodbye; the girls would swoon, but I knew he only had eyes for me.

We ordered drinks. I had a Tuaca on the rocks and he ordered a Gin and Tonic. Sipping away we re-iterated things we knew about one another in an attempt at conversation outside of our usual environment. He was an economist and lived in the North Beach area of San Francisco, but was originally from Sweden, where his parents still resided and where he would visit on holidays. He was 37 and unmarried with no girlfriend and a 90 hour work week.

"I suppose you could say I'm married to my job really." A sip taken from his glass

He was a habit loving creature, in every morning at the same time with the same bagel and in again at 10am for his second cup of coffee. I could set my watch to Tom's schedule. I always made sure to work my ten-minute break around his second cup. It was outside he'd find me furiously smoking down a cigarette and sipping espresso. He'd come to me and stand only inches away, look deep into my eyes, his lips almost too close.

"So, how's your day going?" He'd look straight at me and grin a grin of one with a pervy mind.

I always felt heat between us. There was a deep unsaid lust with us. I wanted to kiss those pinker than usual lips. He knew I got off on him and he devoured the power it gave him. Tom loved to tease.

"So when are you due back?" I asked while fiddling with my straw and stirring my drink.

"Doesn't matter. I was actually thinking of working from home for the remainder of the day. And you? You must have today off then, cause I didn't see you this morning."

"Yeah, I've got today off. Some of the guys said they were getting together, so I decided to come down and meet them, you know."

Silence greeted us, and when your first really talking with someone it's always uncomfortable. Glances were made. My eyes darted here and there. My jaw was aching from all my smiles I lent.

"You're a very pretty girl. You know that though, right?"

"Thanks." I gave another sideways glance.

"What do you say to finishing these, and continuing our conversation back at my place?"

"Sure. Yeah, okay." I sounded nervous and unsure, downing my drink in a kind of courage gathering way.

I was nervous. At 21 I'd only slept with two boys, both of whom were under 21, and I knew by going back to his place I was giving warrant to this kind of thing. I was hesitant, but didn't want to sound unsophisticated or uncool, so I said yes.

Within minutes we were cruising down California Street in an Alfa Romeo convertible. The top down and the day sunny and gorgeous, my hair blew in the wind and I felt better than beautiful.

Tom's apartment was all cherry wood and white carpet. I felt as if I'd stepped into a 'Metropolitan Home' magazine issue. White leather couches and chairs, a wet bar in the corner and a stereo next to it. With a flick of a switch white curtains pulled back revealing the loveliest view of San Francisco I'd ever seen from an apartment. Windows acted as walls and one could imagine stepping out and bouncing off clouds to catch even better views.

"Are you hungry?" Tom shouted from another room while I took a seat on one of the couches.

"Um, no. I ate already, remember?" I shouted back.

"Oh, that's right," he came back to the living room/kitchen area dressed in just right tight jeans and a thinly baby blue striped snug fitted oxford shirt; the apparel showing every curve of that tight swimmers body. He rolled his sleeves up.

"Well, would you mind if I had a little snack of something? I've got this really fantastic bottle of Pinot Grigio if you'd like to try."

"Sure."

He grabbed to glasses from the glass cabinet behind the bar, and sat cross-legged on the white carpet.

"I like your place." I continued.

"Well it certainly took long enough to get right, that's for damn sure."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. I had to have all the floors redone, had to have all my fun electrical stuff installed, took me ages to find just the right furniture. Lot's of work this place was, but worth everything I've put into it."

"Well, it's perfect."

"Thank You. I'm pleased you're pleased." Tom poured wine and sipped slowly.

I moved down to the floor and sat next to Tom; stretching my long legs out before me. I'd discarded my shoes at the door. Tom commented on my pink glitter toe nail polish.

"Thanks for inviting me." Half way through my first glass I felt comfy and warm.

Tom reached for the bottle and refilled my glass. A smile crossed his lips.

"Well, thank you for coming on such short notice." He winked and we clinked glasses.

I felt lost and dreamy. I wanted to kiss him and touch his cheek. As if reading my mind he placed a hot palm on my neck and smoothed my cheek with the back of his hand.

"Gorgeous." He purred.

Our foreheads touched and our eyes met. I felt a chill run through my body as Tom's lips met mine. A passion filled me, his lips warm and soft.

"Mmmmm." He hummed in satisfaction.

Our kiss continued and he leaned into me. Within minutes his body covered mine, my back to the soft pure white carpet. His hand ran up my thigh and when our kiss broke I had my eyes half open half shut as if amazed, and this made him laugh. Tom's blue eyes shimmered an unearthly blue. As if thinking that maybe he'd gone too far too fast, he straightened himself and softly apologized.

"Such a gentleman." I giggled in a barely there tone.

I pulled him back down on me. His hair was thick and soft to the touch; I tried tucking those wandering locks behind his ears, but they just wouldn't stay in place. Tom smelled like coconut and cologne, all clean and pure. My senses filled, I breathed in and held him close to me. His body was lean and tight.

My tank top was the first to go, followed by my strapless bra. His shirt I slowly unbuttoned and threw aside. He thrilled at my 34C's, marveled at there shape and more than a handful size; he tongued each nipple with extra consideration.

"Beautiful," he whispered, "come on, let's go to the bedroom."

Tom took me by the hand and led the way to his bedroom. Like the rest of his place it was all white with satin cream-colored pillows, a mirror lie above the enormous sleigh bed covered by a fluffy duvet. He brought me close to him and held me in a passion filled embrace, breaking only to cover me with lust infused lips. Within seconds we were devouring each other in his fluffy playground of a bed. He was back on top again and pulled my mini skirt off me revealing my neon pink barely their g-string. I knew I was a pretty picture; all tan and raven colored hair.

"Fuck you're gorgeous." He crooned.

I wanted him to bypass all those pre-sex formalities and go straight for where I most needed him, but it was our first time and he had something to prove.

I flipped positions so as to be on top. I went straight for Tom's belt having lost all patience, and needing so desperately to see what lay beneath those button fly jeans. I kissed his stomach as each button unlatched and I made my progress down below. I gave a quick mischievous glance upward as I went down for my first look at the prize. Our eyes met and Tom reached for my shoulder, tenderly massaging me and then pushing me farther down to his crotch. I had to go down on him; I tongued the tip and licked all the way down his shaft, stopping to make quick licks up and over the head, finally taking it all down hard and fast. I could feel him jab the back of my throat.

"Oh Fuck." Tom moaned in appreciation at my skill.

Up again, I sucked the tip like a lolly and went down for a few fast strokes, and got another moan of approval.

"Wait, wait," he beckoned and I reluctantly came up for air, "Wait, stay just like that."

Tom scooted out from under me and approached me now from behind with a cat like grace. He surveyed me. I could hear him swallow hard.

"You look so fucking gorgeous when you're on your hands and knees. Oh, and this," he snapped by g-string hard and it stung my skin, "this is just too fucking much."

Behind me, he ran his hand down the sides of my 5 foot 2 frame. Kissing gently the small of my back, he licked down the backs of my thighs and gave kisses to each ankle. Finally he peeled back that pink g-string to reveal a cleanly shaven wet pussy. He ran a couple of finger along my wet slit and I moaned when he buried those two fingers in my aching cunt.

"Fuck me." Something I whispered to myself or so I thought.

"What?" I could feel his breath on my neck.

I moaned and begged with wriggling hips.

"Fuck me, please fuck me, plea-"

And with those works he filled me with that pretty cock. I arched my back as he took hold of my hair, twisting it in his fist.

"Fuck, you feel so good," I purred under submission in my best little girl voice, "I need you so fucking bad."

He reached around and found my now swollen pink clit and massaged it with a back and forth motion, shocking me on how he knew just what to do. I could feel myself tightening around his cock. Being so close I call to god.

"You are so fucking tight." Exclaimed as he took hold of my hips and drove himself deeper and deeper, slamming into me with such force.

My moans reached a peak and I could feel it cumming. Faster and faster he pounded into me. I flung my head down into the fluffy comforter, my hair tumbling around me. My hands held firmly to the duvet, my head filled with the sound of my muffled cries.

"Oh God! Oh my fucking god!" I feel fiery hot as a warm wave covers me in a much-needed desirable bliss.

Tom's last thrust fills me with flame. Hot and flushed, we ease down further onto the bed. My knees a little sore from the ordeal, I lie wasted and spent.

"Thank You." I whispered with a nearly exhausted voice.

"No, Thank You."