There it was again, that laughter that sounded like a cool waterfall on a hot day. I knew that sound. I knew that laughter because I knew that woman, but where was she hiding? This was not the place where I normally heard her laughing. This was a dimly lit Jazz bar near downtown, not the brightly lit library where she worked.
She liked Jazz. She always knew who I was talking about when I asked questions. I was not surprised, really to find her here, but I’d never seen her here before. I could feel my blood stirring as I heard her laughter ring out again.
I didn’t need to think hard to know that this was the night that could finally give me an opportunity to hear more than her laughter, I just needed to locate her. I turned around from the bar with my scotch in my hand, starting to scan the crowd behind me.
I’d been listening to that laughter for several months, seeking it out, doing my best to think of ways to inspire that lilting voice to speak to me. The sound of her voice tasted like dark chocolate. Smooth, rich, deeper than most women’s voices. She spoke about books and music with an innocent sultriness that never failed to turn me on. I had been spending the last several months dreaming up new questions to ask her whenever I could make time to visit the library.
The first time I met her, I saw her from over a short shelving unit. She’s rather short, shorter still because she was crouched down as she helped some kids find cheat code books and Spiderman comics. I saw the top of her head first, and as she stood up I saw her smile. Beautiful.
She was stunning to watch. She wasn’t thin or lithe or any of those things that so many writers go on about. She was zaftig. She was so womanly that the moment I saw her walking I felt my blood start to stir. She carried her extra weight like it was part of a dance. Her movements were as fluid as her voice as she glided back to the information desk. My eyes followed her as she went, watching the rhythmic swaying of her glorious hips, admiring her effortless flow around the shelving units and the end of the desk. She had style, and it was clear that she enjoyed what she was doing. Her effervescence made the whole building shimmer.
“Where is she?” I thought as I scanned over the heads of the crowd at the bar. “Excuse me,” I said over and over as I wove my way around the people. I was just about to climb up on a chair when I heard her voice directly behind me.
“Oh! Excuse me!” she was saying to me. “I guess I don’t quite know where my edges are, I was just trying to get another drink while the band is on break.” She looked up at me, placing a hand on my arm and reaching around me to put her empty glass on the bar.
“That is quite alright, Madam Librarian,” I joked, using the nickname I’d heard her staff call her from time to time.
She laughed at that, and her eyes looked as if they were lit from behind. “OH! Hello Mr. Hooks! How are you doing this evening?”
“I am fine, Ma’am, but I’d be better if you let me buy your next drink. What does the lady desire?”
“You are always so chivalrous, Mr. Hooks. Please call me Cat. You don’t need to buy me a drink” she hesitated just long enough for me to interrupt whatever she was about to say.
“If I had to, it wouldn’t be nearly as much fun.” This is what she would say to me as I’d apologize for asking her yet another question. She laughed at my statement and I wondered how I was going to be able to hide my excitement. I turned back toward the bar as I heard her comeback.
“Hey! That’s my line!” Again she laughed. How can one person be so pleased with life so much of the time? I marvelled at her smile again as I glanced over my shoulder, nodding and shrugging.
“I’m standing at the bar now, Ms. Librarian. What are you drinking?”
“Oh, I’ll have Vodka and Cranberry juice, please.” She stood slightly behind me and to my right, her head coming to about my chest. I bought her drink and turned, asking her where she was sitting.
“Nowhere yet. I just got here a little while ago.” She glanced around. “I can’t see a thing in this crowd. Do you see an empty table?”
“Only a little while and on your second vodka? The Librarian has a wild side, eh?” I didn’t wait for an answer, but got one anyway.
“You have no idea, Mr. Hooks.”
“I’d like to find out, I think.” I don’t know if she heard me say that or not. With that I’d turned, saying “Follow me, please.”
“Do you come to this club often, Mr. Hooks?” She jumped up into a bar stool beside the small, tall table. She was wearing one of her usual long-hemmed dresses, but when she crossed her legs, I could see her shapely calves, encased in stockings. I forced myself to look back up to her face before I caved in to the temptation to carress her knee.
I laughed at the old line, not knowing quite what to say.
“That sounded like a classic pick-up line, didn’t it?” She laughed again.
“Yes, it did, and yes, I do, but I’ve never gaziantep rus escort seen you here before.”
“I don’t get out much.” She took a sip of her drink and smiled, a little apologetically.
“What’s the occassion tonight, Ms. Librarian?”
“All my friends call me Cat, and I’d say that buying me a drink warrants a new friendship. Please?”
“I’ll call you Cat if you call me John.”
“Alright then, John, it’s nice to meet you in real life.” She smiled up at me and toasted me with her vodka. I clinked glasses with her and smiled down at her.
“Are you going to tell me what the occassion is that brings you to this crowded bar when you don’t get out much?” I hoped that I sounded more witty to her than I did to myself.
“Actually, one of the band members is an old friend of mine. The sax player and I go way back.”
Just then, the man in question came up behind her and put a hand on her shoulder, kissing her cheek.
“Dave, this is John, a customer of mine! John, this is my old friend, Dave.” I’m sure she gave me his last name, but I was drowning in the warmth of her voice, staring at her lips. I’d never noticed before how perfect her lips were. So animated, so sensous, so full and moist. Giving a mental head shake I reached out my hand to shake Dave’s, hoping against hope that this man (probably 10 years my junior) was not a long term romantic friend.
“Nice to meet you, John.” He startled me out of my fantasy about Cat’s lips.
“Yes, it’s nice to meet you, too. I’ve heard you here before. I love your style and tone.”
“Thanks, man. It’s good to get down here to Columbus occasionally. Cat, thanks for coming out tonight. I’m gonna have to rush home after this last set, so I’ll just see ya when I see ya, ok?”
“Sure, hun. Go take care of your business.” They kissed on the cheeks again and he left. “Dave and I were in high school together. We were best friends back then.”
“Did you date?”
“No – I wasn’t his type. We were just friends. Actually he dated my sister for a few months, but it obviously didn’t work out. He’s married now to a middle school band director. The live in Cleveland.” She stopped talking and stared into my eyes, looking a little perplexed. She smiled again and cocked her head to one side and I finally realized I was probably staring at her lips again.
“I’m sorry, Cat. I just can’t seem to stop looking at your smile. I don’t want to be too forward.”
“Funny,” she said, looking down at her toes, “I was just thinking I should apologize to you for staring.” She placed her hand over mine as I stood next to her and grasped my fingers. Then she let go as if shocked by electricity. “Oh! I think I need to stop drinking before I embarrass myself.”
I decided to be brave, bold and courageous and I put my hand on her shoulder, moving slightly to stand nearly in front of her and gaze into her eyes once more.
“What is it that you’re afraid you’ll do, Ms. Cat?” She looked up at me when I asked, and smiled, a little wryly. I smiled back, hoping that I looked handsome and seductive.
“Well . . . about that wild side you suspect me of having . . .” her voice trailed off and her gaze shifted down to the table again. I put one finger under her chin and lifted her face gently, bending over to put a tender peck of a kiss on her tantalizing lips. A small sigh escaped her lips as she looked up at me, her gaze smokey as her lips shifted into a slow smile. “John, are you making a pass at me?”
“Yes, Ms. Cat, and I’m sincerely hoping you’ll catch the pass and run with it.” One of her small hands wafted up to touch mine, still holding her chin.
“I think I might just do that, John. Why don’t you have a seat here next to me while we share our drinks?” Not needing any more encouragement than that, I slid the remaining bar stool closer to Cat’s and sat, putting one arm over the back of her chair. She leaned over to me, to whisper in my ear.
“I’ve been wondering for a while what your lips would taste like, Mr. Hooks. I didn’t realize how much I could like scotch.” She laughed a low, breathy, whispered laugh right into my ear and I could feel the blood rushing, hot and roaring through my veins, behind my ears and into my cock.
“I don’t ever recall cranberry juice tasting so sweet, either,” I whispered back into her ear. The band was starting up again, and I knew she’d want to listen to her friend play. She didn’t let the music distract her completely, though, as she placed a hand on my thigh. The warmth of her hand there made my cock quiver again, making me wonder if I’d be able to walk straight by the time the set was over.
She leaned over to me again, whispering “I am feeling like I’d like to act brazenly, Mr. Hooks. Is that alright with you?” I could tell she’d had just enough of that vodka to loosen her up, but I didn’t mind at this point.
“Please, feel free, Ms. Cat. Something tells me we’ll both be brazen by the time the dawn comes.” With that she bent her head from my ear down to my neck and took just the slightest nibble, following that with a tender, not too wet lick from her warm tongue. My body was so tense with unexpressed desire at this point that I about jumped from my chair. A fleeting image of dragging her by her hair into my cave flashed in my mind. She was smiling broadly as she sat up straight again. She smoothed her fingers out over my thigh, allowing one to just brush over my very obvious erection. I felt her body tense at the touch but I knew not to worry. I could feel the heat of her own desire radiating from her like steaming asphalt in the middle of August. And much like that mirage effect, I could barely see anything in the bar but Cat.
Slowly, as if time had been purposefully stilled, I felt her hand slide over from the top of my thigh to cover my sizable erection. We both stared straight ahead, ostensibly watching the band, but all of our attention was on what she was doing in my lap. I could hear her breath catch in her throat, could feel her temperature rise as she slowly stroked my cock through my slacks. I knew, now, beyond much doubt, that one of my fantasies about her had just come true. She desired me. My own desire for her was evident in the hardness of my cock. I leaned over slightly again, to talk into her ear. I prayed that, despite all odds, my voice would not crack.
“Ms. Cat, ” I said, “would you like to come home with me tonight?” Her hand stopped stroking, but instead she ran one fingernail along the length of my shaft, crotch to tip. She smiled, also, and simply nodded her head. With some difficulty I released my iron grip on my scotch glass and reached over to move her chin back to face me. She turned willingly and we kissed again. This was not a quick peck like before, but something slightly more tender, wrought with meaning and promises for the evening. We were both smiling like giddy school children as we turned to face the stage again.
The band finished one song and started another, and her hand left my lap briefly to clap. Then she lifted and drained her glass, seemingly with some determination. She turned to me, then, intent on something.
“Let’s go now, then, is that ok?” She asked, not sure of her position in my heart (or at least my shorts) yet.
“Yes,” I breathed out with relief, “that is very ok.” I helped her off her stool, took her hand, and guided her out of the bar. “Where is your car, Ms. Cat?”
“Oh, I didn’t drive. I don’t live too far from here so I walked.”
“Great, then, we’ll take mine.” I was about to say something else, but she pulled me by my hand close to her, looking up at me with that distinctive ‘kiss me’ smile. I bent my head and obliged, finally allowing myself to truly taste her magical lips. She was willing and compliant and quite gifted in the art of kissing. Her lips molded into mine as if they were meant to be there, opening slightly to allow my tongue to enter her, meeting her own tongue bent on it’s own explorations. I moved my free hand up to run my fingers around her face, into her hair at the back of her neck.
Her hands went around me pulling closer by the waist. I felt her fingers moving up my back, firm and insistent, feeling me through my clothing as if simultaneously massagine and beckoning me even closer. Up to my shoulders they roamed (although she could barely reach the top) and then down again, over my lower back, to my rear. She did not cup my buttocks as I expected, but instead travelled around to the front and pushed me away with a small moan.
“We’re still in a public place, John. We should move along before we get arrested for being indecent.”
“Do they still arrest people for that?” I asked, growling the question into her neck.
“I’m not entirely sure, but I can look that up for you Monday morning.” She laughed up at me again and I could see her eyes sparkling through the dim light of the street lamps. I took her hand again and led her to the passenger door of my car. I unlocked it, opened it, and watched her grace as she got inside. “Show me some more of that leg, Ms. Cat.”
She laughed and lifted the hem of her skirt, teasing me with a glimpse of that muscular calf. I felt my erection quiver yet again. How did this little, heavy librarian get muscular calves??? Oh, but she had so many interesting surprises. So professional and caring, and so very, very sexy. I closed the door and nearly skipped over to the driver’s side. When I opened the door and slid into my own seat, she was lifting her skirt hem fully above both knees, bringing it to mid-thigh. I groaned with the thought of those legs encircling my waist.
“Madame Librarian,” I growled, “you need to stop seducing the driver so he doesn’t go off the road.” I grinned at her wickedly, hoping it didn’t look like I was oggling her too much. She laughed, again, a throaty, full-bodied laugh that sent sparks of desire through me yet again. If the sexual tension got any stronger, I’d have to pull over and risk arrest by taking her by the side of the road. Instead, I opened the window a bit for some air and pulled out of the lot.
I turned on the radio as a means of distracting my thoughts enough so that I could drive. I remembered I’d been listening to that Diane Schuur CD when the strains of “S’Wonderful” wafted through the car.
“MMMMMmmmmm,” Cat said, nearly purring as she settled into her seat. “I love this CD.”
I pulled onto the freeway toward my house and was accellerating when she started to sing along. I didn’t realize it at first, that she was even singing, because she perfectly matched the pitch, but then, glancing over when I suspected, I saw her looking out the window into the night, grooving to the sexy music.
“S’mighty nice” she sang, her low, throaty voice echoing the singer’s intensity and pitch, but adding her own trills and rhythms. “S’paradise, s’what I love to see.” Her left hand drifted over to my thigh, echoing the touching she’d done in the bar.
Thankfully, I didn’t have far to drive and pulled off at the next exit, going to my apartment. As I navigated through the streets to my place, she continued to sing softly, almost as if she was merely breathing with style. The music flowed from her so effortlessly, I wondered several times if it was just my imagination. I pulled into my driveway and turned off the ignition. The song had been in the middle of a phrase, and she finished it, confirming that she had, indeed, been singing. She laughed a little nervously, looking down and taking her hand back from my thigh.
“I’m sorry, I’m so used to singing along.”
I reached my left hand across the car, turning my body to face hers and reaching to cup her face tenderly. “It was lovely, my Cat, truly.” I kissed her again, taking her lips first, suckling them and then gently probing between them with my tongue, pleading for her mouth to take me inside. She opened for me, sucking my tongue into her mouth with a hunger that surprised and thrilled me. Her left hand went up to my shoulder, squeezing first and then travelling over my neck and around to the back, pulling my head in. Her right hand travelled up my left arm from underneath, a path of heat up to my chest where her palm carressed over my hardening nipples. Someone moaned, I think it was me, and I pulled back reluctantly.
“Come along, Cat. Let’s go inside where we can be comfortable. Making out in the car is for kids.” She chuckled and agreed and opened her door and exited before I could get around to her side of the car. I beeped the doors locked as we walked to my front door. I unlocked the door and opened it, inviting her to enter first. I’d left a corner lamp on when I’d gone out, so we had a warm, dimly lit room. She walked in, looking around. “Sorry for all the clutter. I’m a bit of a slob.”
“No, John, it looks lived-in, comfortable.” She tossed her purse into the nearest chair while I came up behind her, putting my arms around her waist. Instead of turning, she leaned back into me. “You feel so good back there, John. Very comfortable and strong.”
I allowed my hands to travel of their own accord up her tummy to cup her breasts. She rewarded me with a slight but eloquent intake of breath. Her hands came up over mine and she helped me squeeze her breasts, slowly, massaging them, feeling their weight, pushing and gathering them in my hands. She arched her back a bit, causing her lower back to rub into my very obvious arousal. Someone groaned again, perhaps we both did. Her hands went up, over and back, to hold onto my shoulders and I began to raise her dress over her belly. In what seemed like both seconds and years I had lifted her cotton dress over her head, dropping it onto the floor nearly right beside my front door. I was quite thankful I’d drawn the curtains before I’d left.
I closed my eyes, not looking down at her nearly nude body yet. She was wearing a simple, servicable bra which cupped her sizable breasts gently, but didn’t make them stand out with unnatural firmness. I glanced down just quickly enough to see that cleavage I’d dreamed of, full of promise. I cupped a breast with one hand and explored further down with the other. My fingertips danced over her belly to her thatch. She didn’t shave, and she had a bush worthy of the name.
“Oh gawd,” I said, eyes popping open in surprise. “You’re not wearing any panties!” I was surprised, to say the least, and not at all turned off by the fact. She chuckled again.
“No, I’m not,” she admitted simply to the obvious. “Does that shock you?” She was teasing me again.
“Ohhh,” I breathed as I grabbed her bush and squoze gently, noting that her curls were damp. I ran my fingers along her slit, tracing her lower lips tenderly, trying to take things slowly, although my body was screaming out to take her violently in the middle of the floor or up against the wall. She groaned with my touch and tilted her pelvis to enhance my access. Her body was begging for mine.
“Watch it, Ms. Cat. You’re playing with fire.” I warned.