Joaquin and Tom honked as they drove away. She was always late to let me in. I banged on the door and fell into a light trance inspecting a dent in the wood on her porch. I thought about the first time I met her. We were hosting a dinner party at my apartment in Hollywood. By our standards, this meant large quantities of cocaine and marijuana. It meant an abundance of Mexican food and loud obnoxious French pop. It meant sex. By the time she showed up we were all sufficiently full, stoned and grinning big. I wore my hair in a high pony and lips painted deep red. I bent over to snort a line off of the dinner table when Zoe walked in. She was immediately excited by the music, she flashed her gap tooth grin, bouncing her petite body to the beat. I sat on Joaquins lap puffing on a cigarette and watching her. His hand slipped up my skirt,
"You like her?" he whispered in my ear.
I nod slowly without averting my gaze. She was wearing a sliver body suit which hugged her ass perfectly. I inhale, imagining what it would feel like to dance right behind her. Her backside pressing into my crotch, I exhale. The cocaine hit, giving me unbridled confidence. I walk right up to her and offer her a puff of my cigarette. She inhales,
"Great apartment, this your place?" She exhales.
I nod, "Only if you meant the part about it being great."
A week later, she attended a class at my local yoga studio. Laying her mat next to mine, she began to stretch. About 20 minutes in I noticed her sweating and panting, her tight yoga pants clinging to her body. I imagined pinning her down and pushing my chest up against hers, she would sweat and pant even harder, I would make sure of it.
I was on all fours in cat/cow pose when I caught her checking out my ass. Inhale, I curved my lower back and tilted my pelvis to stick out my backside even further. We locked eyes, I was moving slow with intention, all for her pleasure and I needed her to know it. I bite my lip. Exhale. We pulled back into downward dog and she continued to tease me, brushing her hand intentionally down her legs to outline her curves.
After class, we ordered sangria at the neighbouring bar. Feeling euphoric from an ungodly combination of alcohol and sexual tension. This ongoing dance between us becoming unendurable. My eyes are pulled to her lips, now stained red as she spoke. She told me she was excited by seeing my nipples through my white t-shirt. I took her hand and brushed her finger across them. A warm sensation passed through me. I'm primed to fuck.
The door burst open snapping me out of my trance, her hair disheveled, her flannel shirt barely covering her underwear. In her usual anxious fashion, she was "very sorry for the mess" as she reached for my hand, guiding me to her bedroom. I sit next to her on the bed. We sip PBR and ponder over her most recent sketches, many of them of naked women.
"Do you want to draw me? I inquire.
She nods.
I pull my dress up over my head, standing in front of her in only my underwear. She idles at my breasts and drags herself further onto the bed, clutching her sketchbook.
"Have you ever been with a woman before?" I ask. She scribbles intensely glancing at my chest and then back at the paper.
