The VIP Room(7)

"I gotta get a shower," I said to myself, pushing myself up off the couch. "For f*ck's sake, I have work in the morning."

Taking off my clothes, I had to literally peel my panties away from my body, they were so soaked. The scent of my arousal smacked me in the face, and I moaned, wishing there was something I could do about it. The way my body was feeling however, I knew that anything I did would be empty. It's kind of like when you know you want a real drink, but all you have around is Diet Dr. Pepper. It's just not good enough.

The cool water of the shower cascaded over my shoulders and hair, which at first helped with my arousal, but when my already tight nipples got bathed in the water, the painful pleasure had me gasping, my head leaning against the tile of the shower, silently begging for something to help release the pressure inside me. I could feel the warm wetness dripping down the inside of my thighs, and knew that if my hands went anywhere near my waist, I'd be masturbating like crazy within seconds, and if I did, I'd be left frustrated and unsatisfied.

Taking deep, shuddering breaths, I quickly washed the areas that I could without increasing my arousal, and least getting the sweat washed off of my arms, legs and shoulders. Finally, I did what almost every other time calmed me down by massaging shampoo into my long hair, an herbal blend that I always use whenever I need inner peace. It takes a long time to wash my hair because it's so thick, so by the time I finished, I thought I might have myself under control.

At least, I thought I was under control, until I got out of the shower. The first sign to me that things weren't as calm as I had hoped was when my nipples tightened again as I pulled my terrycloth robe on. Fireworks sparkled in front of my eyes when the cotton scraped over my breasts, and I had to lean on my sink while I tried to regain control.

"Fuck this," I groaned, looking up into the mirror. The woman who looked back at me was desperate with lust, and needed sex, regardless of if it was good or not. "I guess I'm going through a few batteries tonight."

I was heading back to my bedroom, my mind filled with thoughts of Mark's body and my vibrator trying to blend themselves, when a knock came at the door. I stopped and considered ignoring the knock, when it came again. Glancing at the clock on the wall, I could see it was almost eleven thirty.

Tabby, you better be out of cash and smashed out of your mind, I muttered to myself as I headed for the door. Because if you just came to see if I went home with Mark or not.....

My quiet monologue cut short when I opened the door, and I saw Mark standing, leaning against the door frame. "Sorry, did I interrupt you?"

I stood there like an idiot for at least five seconds, until Mark's face broke out in a bit of a cocky grin. "I guess I did. How was your shower?"

Looking down at myself, I realized I was still wearing my robe. "Uh.... nice," I stammered, sounding like an idiot. "How did you figure out my apartment?"

Mark chuckled. "How about you let me in your apartment, and I'll tell you?"

I stepped back, the angel of my morals falling silent as Mark's handsome smile melted any resistance I might have had. "Um... sure. Come on in."

I watched as he calmly made his way across my living room and stood in the middle, looking around. "It's nice. A lot of little touches that elevate the place."

"Thanks, I think," I said, closing the door. "But you haven't answered my question."

"Pretty simple, really. You said you had an old Honda, and an old Honda is parked in slot two twelve. I figured it was a pretty safe bet."

I had to admit what he said made sense. "Note to self, don't tell guys I just met about my crappy car," I joked, trying to clear my head. It was hard to do with him standing there. He was even more handsome in the light of my living room than he had been in the muted lights of the club. "But Mark, this is highly irregular."

Mark turned to me, his eyes smoldering and powerful. "Sophie, if you want me to leave, all you have to do is ask. I can walk out that door, and Tuesday we'll have a very nice, very polite date."

"Or?"

"Or I can stay."

Mark's words were accompanied by a promise of something in his eyes, something I'd never felt before. Erotic, sensual, and utterly satisfying, his eyes said to me that if I let him stay, my life would never be the same again. Still, my hand reached for the doorknob, resting on it for a moment before falling away to hang by my side. I turned and walked towards him, putting my arms around his neck. It was so different than the kiss in the parking lot. Without my high heels on, he almost towered over me, looking down into my eyes. "You know, we never did finish that dance."

With liquid grace and restrained strength, Mark pulled me into a dance, both of us moving sensuously and slowly to unheard music. I should have felt stupid. I mean, there I was, in my old terrycloth bathrobe, slow dancing in my living room to no music at all. I should have felt like the world's cheesiest idiot.

Instead, all I was aware of was Mark's eyes, and the feel of his hands on my waist, and the fact that under my robe I was still as naked as the day I was born. I know my breasts were straining against the old cotton, and with each heartbeat I could feel myself growing hotter and hotter.

"You're going to have to ask for it," Mark said, guiding me around until I was leaning against the wall. "So what do you want me to do?"