Bedroom Closet

You can’t flirt indef­i­nitely online. It doesn’t work. Even­tu­ally things fiz­zle out or move for­ward. This could take weeks or years, but it hap­pens. This is an (as of right now) fic­tional account of that mov­ing for­ward — in response to another account. I will not be adher­ing to the same pat­tern, only the same story.

You can’t flirt indef­i­nitely online. It doesn’t work. Even­tu­ally it gets too per­sonal. Even­tu­ally things heat up to where the blog space or social space can’t con­tain it any more. Even­tu­ally flirty pic­tures and com­ments in pub­lic spaces online become bolder and more las­civ­i­ous through email. Hints are dropped along with the mod­esty. Even­tu­ally some­one breaks the ice.

“I want to meet you”. Decision.

Assume that all agree to meet and plans are made. Assume also that time has passed in which every­one is com­fort­able enough for this to hap­pen from a remote place. Meet­ing some­one online and arrang­ing an “offline” meet­ing feels dif­fer­ent then just meet­ing some­one in a club and hav­ing it esca­late from there — it’s more inten­tional. That other kind is a story for another time. Assume all of this con­ver­sa­tion has hap­pened, pic­tures have been exchanged, rules estab­lished, desire has been stoked…

… we can begin …

A___ and I aren’t able to travel at will, so L___ gra­ciously agreed to meet us in town. After­noon flight. Check in with enough time to relax, meet up at 7… a night of…?… fly out the next day. Noth­ing lost except the flight and hotel if things go awry. A___ got a text mes­sage that after­noon: “Flight was great, hotel is great, feel­ing great, see you at seven, kiss you soon after… L”. All is ready.

We pack a bag with some things and take a cab down­town. In the bag… that comes later. Suf­fice it to say that we are more than ade­quately pre­pared for what­ever mood the evening takes. Also, A___ has dressed as requested (again, later). We’re both excited and ner­vous: we’ve shared another woman before, but this is as inten­tional as it’s got­ten for us. We’d had sev­eral hours after work but before the cab ride to talk and think. We’ve both had some Jame­son to calm our nerves and some time in bed together to calm our bod­ies. All is ready.

L___ has done her home­work and cho­sen a place that suits her well. She had wanted to meet and have a drink some­where that had danc­ing. Some­place inti­mate and dark but with the poten­tial to be crowded. All of which suited us. She men­tioned mov­ing on to din­ner after, which made me laugh — If the chem­istry we assumed was there was, there would be no din­ner until later. It wouldn’t be able to hap­pen with­out the three of us get­ting thrown out of wher­ever we went for lewd behav­ior. Best to talk and eat a lit­tle first, and then dine later when the first round of fires has been left to smolder.

We arrive at seven as planned; I nor­mally like to arrive early but real­ize that being in a some­one else’s city to meet them for the first time is a huge dis­ad­van­tage and A___ and I wanted to level the field a bit. We walked in like we would any other place and looked around — partly for a quiet booth and partly to see if we could spot L___. We found the booth first but before we could sit we were greeted qui­etly by L___ with a drink already in hand. A hand­shake for me and a quick kiss on each cheek for A___. Noth­ing improper or assum­ing. Noth­ing lin­ger­ing, We sit and order drinks and appetizers.

… small talk … drinks .… small talk … food .…

This is a point when time should be taken; to make sure things are as you expected, to add fuel to fire.

…

Con­ver­sa­tions aren’t the things that move an evening such as this for­ward. That’s always awk­ward and it’s already under­stood why every­one is here. Usu­ally the con­ver­sa­tion is used like liquor; to calm nerves and draw every­one in. Con­ver­sa­tion is a cover; It’s hands that do the talk­ing. When we sat down A___ landed in the mid­dle. It was inten­tional. As we all talked she leaned a bit on me, she was posi­tioned so that her legs could touch L____’s if L____ wanted. So that their hands could do what hands do under tables in dark restau­rants. So that they could make a con­nec­tion if they desired. They got right to work in sub­tle ways imme­di­ately: Although the con­ver­sa­tion remained light A___ and L___ were obvi­ously get­ting more com­fort­able with each other. It started when L___ sat down and allowed her legs to push up against A___’s. Even­tu­ally hands rested on laps and while fin­ger­tips stud­ied the hem lines of skirts and explored the lim­its of stock­ings. Laugh­ter brought faces closer together. A___ would play with L___’s neck under the pre­text of talk­ing jew­elry and L___ would lean into A___ in order to hear bet­ter, let­ting the lace of her bra show under her slightly open blouse.

I par­tic­i­pated in the con­ver­sa­tion and watched them flirt. I love to watch A___ and this fore­play was work­ing won­ders on me. A___ would occa­sion­ally reach down between my legs and feel my cock hard inside my blue jeans, rub me for a moment, then release. She would smile back at me right before she turned her atten­tion for­ward again. Occa­sion­ally she would kiss me, and I could see L___ out of my half closed eyes watch­ing and wish­ing… her time would come.

Once I remem­ber feel­ing A___’s hand with another one in it move onto my lap as I was being kissed. A___’s other hand had dis­ap­peared inside a skirt and L___’s eyes had closed. This lasted just a sec­ond before A___ pulled away and placed her hands on the table. Silent but smiling.

“Ready to dance?” L___ asked… A___ didn’t say any­thing, but looked at me. L___ did as well with eye­brows raised. After a moment her hand moved to A___’s neck around the hgh-neck sweater she was wear­ing in under­stand­ing and acknowl­edg­ment. She asked me to take A___ to the dance floor, and they move off after I agreed. I was left alone at the booth with my thoughts, my whiskey and a clear view of where they would be dancing.

All is ready.

This entry was posted on Monday, November 12th, 2007 at 2:48 pm and is filed under sex. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.