I fell into Michael�s kiss like sinking into a warm bath. As clich�d as it sounds, Michael had a kiss you could feel down into your toes, the kind of kiss that made your stomach flutter and made you instantly wet at the same time.
His hand traced along the v-neck of my sweater, allowing a finger to slip beneath the cloth. I knew that if this continued any longer, I would be powerless to say no to anything. And while losing control with Daddy seemed right and safe, losing control with Michael for some reason felt wrong.
I abruptly pulled back from his kiss. He looked at me, bewildered.
�Michael...�
�Lola, what? What�s wrong, baby?�
�I-I don�t know if I�m ready for this.�
His brow scrunched up with concern. �Ready? How can you not be ready? It�s not like we haven�t��
�I know, I know. I just�I just want to be certain of what I�m doing.�
He sighed and straightened in his seat. �The other guy. You�re feeling guilty about the other guy who is undoubtedly screwing some bar fly right this second.�
I wanted to slap him! How dare he? He didn�t know Bill. He didn�t know anything.
Instead, I managed to use an even and moderate tone of voice and said, �Could you take me home now, Michael?�
�Lola...�
�I�m sorry. Tonight is not a good night. Please.�
He studied my face carefully and determined that there was nothing he could do to sway my decision. He sighed and put the car into gear, pulling out from under the protection of the canopy into the pouring rain.
We drove the remaining mile to my home in silence. The click of the blinker on the final turn sounded like a staccato heartbeat cutting the tension. Finally, he pulled into my driveway and parked.
�Lola, baby...I�m sorry. I shouldn�t have pushed at you.� He placed a gloved hand over my own freezing bare one. �Please say that you�ll give me another chance?�
I looked at him and my resolve softened once more. I hadn�t made any decisions not to see him again but he always had the ability to turn on that little boy charm that melted all of my defenses. He read my expression and picked up my hand and kissed it.
�I�ll call you tomorrow, ok?� He whispered, then touched the side of my face gently.
�Ok.� I nodded.
He spread out his arms for a hug. I acquiesced and embraced him, once again smelling his masculine cologne, my nose brushing against his neatly trimmed hair. I felt him sigh, tighten his grasp and hold it as though he didn�t want to let go. I gently pulled back and he finally released me.
I looked up the walk, through the pouring drizzle and waited for a second, but then realized that Michael would never walk me up to my door. It just wasn�t his style. I braced myself, said �Goodnight� over my shoulder, and bolted for the door.
On the porch, I struggled with my keys for a bit, enough to get completely drenched in the process and then finally got the door open. When I turned to wave to him, I watched as his taillights were already disappearing down the street.
I walked into the house, kicked off my shoes and put my soaking wet pashmina over the shower rod in the bathroom. I wasn�t sure what would happen to it if it got wet. Oh well. Lesson learned, I suppose. More than one, actually, I thought wryly. I pulled the wet sweater over my head and then reached around back to unzip the silk geisha skirt. That would undoubtedly be ruined as well. I put a towel on the counter and laid it flat, hoping to save a bit of the night�s poor decisions.
I looked at myself in the mirror, wearing a black demi bra, black bikini panties, and black thigh high stockings. His loss, I thought. I liked this combination. It looked nice with my pale skin. I pulled my hair out of the wrecked upsweep and shook it out, then I removed my melting makeup from my face. Balancing one foot upon the toilet seat, I unrolled my stockings and then dried my legs off.
I should really have just taken a shower but I was too drained, emotionally and physically. Instead, I plunked down on the sofa in my bra and panties, covered up with a down throw, and turned on the television, finding a Hugh Grant movie. Grrr... Hugh Grant reminded me of Michael. Turned the channel... cooking show...nature show... Star Trek...reality show with anorexic teens with weird names...finally, I settled upon The Quiet Man with John Wayne and Maureen O�Hara. Something about the Duke sometimes... it made me a little weak. And this movie in particular had some serious Duke/O�Hara chemistry.
I leaned back and placed my hand on my bare stomach. It was clammy from being wet earlier. I rubbed it and then snuggled further under the duvet. I had goose bumps all the way down my thighs from the cold.
I tried to stop thinking about Michael. God, that man aggravated me! I couldn�t believe that he hadn�t even waited to make sure that I got into my house safely! Yes, actually, I could. That was how he was. If you were with Michael, you were on your own. He only took care of you if it suited him or if it occurred to him. He was very self-involved, that man.
But God, he knew how to kiss!
My hand traced along the high cut of my panties. Even with his brash value judgments and his annoying tendencies, he still managed to make me wet. And that irritated me all the more, that I was so weak that I couldn�t allow my mind to decide who turned me on and who didn�t.
Of course, I hadn�t exactly decided to be attracted to Daddy. He had just� made it happen somehow. Uncovered something that I hadn�t even realized was inside me.
My hand slipped under the band of my panties and found that my puss was very wet. My hand glided over the smoothly shaven skin and I thought about Daddy�s face pressing into it, licking there, tasting me. Finally, I couldn�t resist dipping my finger inside and sliding against my clit, which was already urgently perked and wanting. I traced along it, teasing it, until my hips were arching upwards into Daddy�s phantom, wanting him to plunge inside me once again.
�Oh Daddy... may I please come for you?� I said out loud to no one.
In my mind, I heard him whisper into my ear. �Yes, babygirl, come for Daddy.�
I immediately exploded around my hand, sliding one finger inside my tight little snatch, the other rubbing against my clit, the other hand pinching my pert little nipple under my bra. �Ooooooohhhhhhh� I exhaled as waves of pleasure washed over my cold tired body.
Mmmm�. Perfect. I withdrew my hand and fell into a light nap on the sofa while the Duke showed Margaret O�Hara who was really in control.
