r | sexual content
It wasn't the alcohol. It might have been the ice cream, the small smear of vanilla and caramel that ended up on the corner of her mouth. You picked up the napkin, intending to wipe it off, but licked it off instead. She looked surprised, a deep flush staining her pale skin. You couldn't tell if it was arousal, embarrassment, or agitation. At least, not until she tilted her head, letting her mouth graze yours.
You found yourself pondering her motivation, even as she slipped her tongue in your mouth. Then there was a taxi. Sticky money. Cold air. The too-loud jangling of keys as you fumbled with the lock, forced open the door. You'd regret this in the morning, but it wasn't morning yet, so you let her strip you naked. Her hands were softer than you expected.
"Are you drunk?" It was a stupid question, perhaps, this late in the game, but you felt the need to ask.
She seemed to think about it forever. Then she slipped out of her dress with ease. The lack of underwear surprised you. "I don't think so," she said finally.
"Are you?" She was staring at you, her eyes wandering over your body. Your skin burned.
"I ... yeah. I think I am."
"That's not why I'm ..." You stopped talking, because you realized you didn't know if that was really true. Maybe it was just the alcohol. How many drinks did you order, exactly?
"Okay." With that, she stepped closer. There was a flurry of soft hands and even softer lips. Your bed was unmade from last night; you could smell him on your sheets. If she noticed, she didn't seem to care. Maybe this was some rebound thing. Maybe it was revenge. Maybe she knew. Maybe it didn't matter to her. She kissed like a woman who didn't care about anything, and you knew that wasn't like her. Maybe she was drunker than she thought.
Someone was drumming. Except no, that was your heartbeat echoing in your ears. One moment you weren't breathing, and then your body was trembling with a fierce intensity. She was smiling, an accomplished, content smile, and you had trouble believing that she had really done that to you.
You closed your eyes, meaning to reciprocate, but when you re-opened them, there was harsh sunlight on your face. She was gone, and if it weren't for the faint bite mark on your hip, you might have assumed it was all a dream.
On the way to the kitchen, you pressed the button on your answering machine. Only one message; you weren't sure if you wanted it to be him or her until his voice rang loud in your ears, and disappointment washed over you.