Slow Valentine

Slow Valentine

D. Jordan Redhawk

“Are you sure about this?” I asked Misty Sue for probably the fifth time.

We sat in her husband’s Chevy on the curb of a city street. Traffic whisked by, more so then I was used to at this time of night. But that’s the way in the city; some places don’t close all night long. Far cry from our hometown where everything but the bar shuts down by five. Hell, the bar ain’t even open on Sundays.

Misty Sue took my hand from the gearshift, rubbing her thumb across my knuckles, and turned toward me with a hopeful expression. “You said you’d take me dancing, Slow,” she said.

“I know, I know.” Though how she could remember a promise made in the heat of the moment, so to speak, I’ll never figure out. I hardly remember making it, and I was there. The expensive Italian dinner we had eaten formed an uncomfortable lump in my stomach, and my chest felt hollow. That meal set me back a whole week’s pay. You’d think they’d make it so it would sit better on a nervous person’s constitution.

I eyed a bright red and blue neon sign proclaiming ‘Sneakers!’ Seemed a pretty odd name for a lesbian bar. From what I could see, there wasn’t anybody sneaking around anywhere. A steady stream of people wandered in and out, and about a half dozen women hung outside, smoking and laughing with each other. A car full of teenagers drove past, the kids yelling bad words at them. The women took offense, and hollered back. One of them went so far as to step off the curb, and grab at her crotch.

Do I even want to know what she was grabbing?

“What’s the matter?” Misty Sue kissed my knuckles. “Do you want to find a different place?”

“I just . . .” I let out a sigh. “I’ve never been in a gay bar before, that’s all. It’s not like the Bronc back home,” I said.

“God, I hope not!” She chuckled at the thought. I could imagine us on the teeny dance floor of the Bronc, and the locals’ confusion over whether to pummel us or ask to join in the hanky panky. “You said you had a fake ID.”

“I did. I do! But what if it isn’t good enough to pass?”

Puzzlement flickered across her pretty face. “But you hang out at the Bronc all the time, Slow.”

“Well, yeah, but I’ve never had to show ID there.” How could I explain it didn’t matter anyway? Everybody in town knew I was underage, even Deputy Hubert. So long as I was only caught with a soda pop when he wandered through, he didn’t give a rat’s ass about me being there. And the owner, Jim Rodriguez, could care less; I wasn’t a sloppy or loud drunk, and any money’s better than none. Being underage at home was a far cry from pulling it off in the city.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, releasing my hand. She unbuckled her seat belt. “If we can’t get you in here, we’ll try another place I’ve heard about.”

Reluctant, I followed her example. I stepped out of the car, and came around to open her door. “And if that doesn’t work?” A straight couple passed as she stepped onto the curb, strolling arm in arm.

Misty Sue shrugged. “Then I’ll take you back to the hotel, and fuck you silly,” she said, her voice loud enough to carry.

A blush raced across my skin as the man snickered, and Misty Sue’s eyes sparkled with the imp. The couple kept walking, and I breathed a sigh of relief, not wanting our special Valentine’s weekend to be spent in an emergency room. She needed a reminder, though, of who wore the pants here.

I shut her door, and grabbed her hands, pushing her against the car. Her body pressed against mine in the most delicious of ways. “I’ll hold you to that whether we get any dancing done or not.”

“I hope so,” she said, her voice nearly a purr. The dress she’d picked was a flowered, silky affair. It fit snug along her curves, showing off her attributes, and flowed over her hips to hang in loose gathers of material. She looked mighty fine in the thing. If it weren’t for that damned promise, I’d put her back in the car, and hightail it to the hotel room.

Elle Shipley must have rubbed off on me, because I dared to give Misty Sue a thorough kissing right there on the street. It helps that I easily pass for a boy. Nobody knew us here anyway. No way would any of Misty Sue’s friends be hanging out in this neck of the woods to bust us, and what few friends I had were drinking in front of the wrestling match on TV.

The bunch on the sidewalk noticed our activities, a couple of the more rowdy women whistling in response. Blood heated my face, but I refused to act embarrassed. I finished the kiss, and stepped back, pulling her away from the car.

“Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

We kept our hands linked as we strolled toward the bar. I could feel the beat thumping through my bones from out here. Why do people listen to music so damned loud? Wasn’t the threat of going deaf strong enough? After serious consideration, though, I realized that maybe women like me don’t get much opportunity to meet each other unless they go to bars; going deaf was better than going blind at home in the shower.

The ladies - and I use that term loosely - at the entrance, gave us knowing smiles, a couple going so far as to say hello. I held my head up, regardless of their calculating looks. These women were worse than banty roosters, strutting their stuff and discussing which hen to jump next. I could almost superimpose the image of them with the regulars at the Bronc. The only difference was that the guys at the Bronc wouldn't be looking at me as a potential hen.

At the door, the music blared louder. We stepped inside, and waited in line. Three others were in front of us, loitering as they waited for the bouncer to finish examining IDs. I swallowed hard, wondering again if mine would past muster. My pulse increased, and sweat beaded on my lip. Before I could back out of the deal, we stood before her.

She was big - three times my size if she was an inch. She wore men’s trousers and button up shirt, with sunglasses tucked in the pocket. Her hair was buzz cut, and she reminded me eerily of my grandfather. When she looked at Misty Sue, I saw an appreciative glint in her eyes.

Well, at least she’s not blind.

Then her gaze fell on me, speculating.

I gulped, wondering if I looked as pale as I felt.

“ID?”

With practiced ease, Misty Sue produced her driver’s license. She handed it over, flirting like crazy with the bouncer. I didn’t know if she was trying to distract her from me, or just wanted to tease the poor woman. Whichever it was, it wasn’t working.

The bouncer used a small flashlight to look over the card before returning it to its owner. Then her large, meaty hand was held out for mine.

I honestly don’t know where it came from, but I gave her a bored expression as I yanked my wallet from my pocket. I struggled a bit with the plastic holder, but finally got the damned thing out, and gave it to her.

She did the same thing with the flashlight, lighting it from beneath instead of on top as she checked the birth date. Lucky for me, I hadn’t adjusted the ID itself at all. My friend, Jeff, and me changed our birth certificates a couple of years ago, and had used them to get our first driver’s licenses. I still felt my age was branded on my forehead. Her gaze flickered to me, making certain the picture was the same as my face. “Date of birth?”

It took me by surprise, and I stared at her a moment.

Misty Sue gently nudged my ribs with an elbow. “She wants your date of birth, Slow.”

“Uh, yeah!” I said. I rattled off the one on the ID card, which was three years before I was born.

The bouncer grinned. I know I didn’t fool her a bit, because she gave me a slight wink. She returned my ID, and said, “That’ll be a two dollar cover for each of you.”

I blinked, stunned. It worked?

Misty Sue, impatient to get to the dance floor, plucked my wallet from my nerveless fingers, and gave the bouncer a five. “Keep the change.” She then snagged my license and my hand, and dragged me inside.

Lights flashed everywhere, making it difficult for me to concentrate on seeing anything. This was way different from the bar back home. The music echoed in my ears, and pounded into my bones. Misty Sue pulled me along as I gawked, until we came to the bar. She muscled her way into the press, and I watched in concern, wondering if I’d be able to extract her without explosives.

As I became used to the spectacular sights, I started catching details. The place was actually smaller than it looked, which explained why it seemed so busy. Shoot, Sneakers was only twice the size of the Bronc, but it was jammed to capacity. The dance floor took up half the space, and it was packed. On the opposite wall, I saw stairs, and looked up to notice a second level. It didn’t look too deep, maybe only wide enough for two or three tables, the railing spotted with spectators watching the dancers below.

One of them looked in my direction. I swear she smiled at me, but the lights were distracting enough I couldn’t be sure. A quick glance around me showed everybody else either busy at the bar, or talking with one another. I looked back up, pointing a thumb at my chest in question. She brought her glass up to toast me, though my eyebrows raised a hell of a lot higher. Thank God Misty Sue chose right then to return with the drinks.

I guess the ladies on the balcony weren’t just watching over their friends. What was the word? Cruising? Yeah, that’s what they were doing. That thought sparked a whole ‘nother line of questions, but I set them aside for later. Tonight was for Misty Sue.

Speaking of which, she handed me the drink she got for me. It looked unfamiliar. Now I found out why the music was so loud because I had to lean close to yell into her ear. “What is this?”

Misty Sue grinned. She took the opportunity to slide my wallet into my pocket, taking her time about the procedure. “It’s called a Snakebite. Take a sip.”

I wasn’t too sure about drinking something poisonous. Still, considering what we had planned for the evening, I doubted she’d be trying to kill me. Yet. I took a cautious sip of the slightly green drink. “Whoa! Sour!” As I got over the initial tang, the alcohol burning down my throat, I decided it was pretty good. About the only thing I’d ever had before was beer, and the occasional shot of whiskey when Deputy Hubert wasn’t around.

She laughed, swaying to the music. “What do you think?”

“Not bad.” I gave the glass a grudging nod, and then looked around the room. Her hand was still in my back pocket, so I wrapped my arm around her waist. “What now?”

“Now we dance!” Misty Sue literally dragged me toward the dance floor.

I wondered what the hell we were going to do with the glasses. I didn’t have anything to worry about. The floor was partially surrounded by banister that was wide enough on top to hold glasses. Lots of people had parked their drinks there, and we added ours to the mess.

Misty Sue finally pulled out of my pocket, taking my hands instead. Her hips swayed back and forth in enticement, and she began to dance as she pulled me out onto the floor. Her eyes sparkled with joy, and I had to wonder why the hell her husband didn’t like doing whatever it took to see that. It increased her beauty about a hundred times.

As usual, men were a right puzzle to me.

“I’m not very good at this,” I warned her, trying to find my errant sense of rhythm. I figured if I shuffled back and forth, I wouldn’t make too much of a fool of myself. Maybe.

“That’s okay,” she called over the music. She released my hands to twirl around. “I can already tell you’re a better dancer than Dale.”

I grinned, pleased. I was better than Dale at a lot of things, not the least of which I would be proving again later tonight.

Time became a blur as Misty Sue danced herself out. We made occasional forays to the sidelines to quench our thirst, ordering fresh drinks from passing wait staff. I began to feel the buzz, and became less self-conscious about my technique, less worried about anybody watching me make an ass out of myself. It was actually kind of fun.

As I watched Misty Sue, I saw the teenaged party girl she used to be make an appearance. She spent a lot of time flirting with me, and just about everybody else she accidentally bumped into. A couple of times, she abandoned me to dance with someone else in the middle of the floor. I was almost surprised that I wasn’t jealous at her divided attentions. But then, she was married; she’d never truly be mine, and I knew it. We obviously didn’t love each other, but were happy to spend quality time together.

The DJ put on a slow song, and about half the dance floor cleared away. Misty Sue slid into my arms, and we melted into one another. By now I was beyond caring that anybody could see me. The alcohol and activity had done the trick. All I wanted to do was take her out of here, and get her back to that hotel room.

Her body against mine felt heavenly, which flies in the face of organized religion. Seems obvious they’ve got this whole ‘homosexuals are going to Hell’ thing wrong; otherwise it wouldn’t feel so right, would it? I matched my steps with hers, and we arranged ourselves so that we straddled one another’s thigh. It wasn’t exactly a new position for either of us, but I’d never had to do it to music before. The constant shifting of our bodies distracted me as various parts of our anatomy rubbed pleasantly together. Her hands alternated between weaving above our heads in some complicated design as she undulated against me, and running along my shoulders and neck. Mine searched out every aspect of her slim waist, occasionally running along the underside of her arms, my thumbs brushing the sides of her breasts.

The song ended, but I wasn’t finished. As a tune with a faster beat began, I placed my hands on Misty Sue’s swinging hips, forcing her to remain against me. She apparently agreed with me, because she gave an extra little grind that did wonders for my already rampaging libido.

Around us, dancers piled onto the floor, but we were alone in our desire. The number of people around us guaranteed our anonymity. I lost myself in the much more familiar rhythm of Misty Sue, not needing to hear her sighs or gentle hums of pleasure as my hands roamed her dress. Her eyes were half closed, a small smile on her face as we danced. I put my hand against the small of her back, fingers barely brushing the beginning swell of her ass, and pulled her tight against my thigh. Her lips opened in a gasp at the sensation.

My reward was a searing kiss, right there on the dance floor. Her tongue was in my mouth, her hands in my hair, her hips pressed firmly into mine. We weren’t dancing any more, at least not the kind of dancing for public consumption. It was time to leave.

I ended the kiss, and stepped away from Misty Sue. She promptly put on a pout, her hands still around my neck. I let her pull me back in for another kiss, but began walking backwards. She had no choice but to follow. I was surprised I’d only bumped into three people by the time we got to the edge of the dance floor.

“Come on,” I yelled in her ear, pausing to nibble her neck in the process. “I think a hotel room and a hot tub are in order.”

Misty Sue laughed. “Okay!” She stopped only long enough to find and down the remainder of her drink.

As she did, I glanced around the bar one last time. The woman I saw earlier was still on the balcony, though somewhat further down than before. Our eyes met, and she smiled, saluting me with one hand. I grinned back, making a small bow, watching her laugh. Then Misty Sue was in my arms, and I turned away.

I’ll definitely be coming back here again.

The trip to the hotel was quick. Excitement made Misty Sue antsy. She couldn’t sit still, bouncing in her seat as she gave me an instant replay of the songs and the sights. By the time she’d gotten around to our public necking, we were in the hotel parking lot.

Before I could get out of the car, she planted a brisk kiss on me. “Thank you, Slow. I had a wonderful time.” Her lips met mine again, with more heat and less exuberance, as her excitement flared into desire.

I couldn’t say how long we necked there, but I was glad that some part of my brain was working. I’d be damned if I’d get brought in on indecent exposure charges when there was a perfectly good bed a few minutes from where we sat. When I finally broke away, we were both sweaty and panting. Misty Sue opened her mouth to complain, but I dived out of the car. I came around to open her door, and took her hand. “We’re going upstairs,” I said. “You mentioned something earlier about fucking me silly, and I said I was going to hold you to that.”

Her face lit up in a grin, her skin flushed with alcohol and arousal. “Sounds like a plan.”

I made certain the car doors were locked, and handed her the keys. My truck was parked nearby, since we’d come separately. Her husband was off at some grocery symposium in Chicago with his assistant manager for the weekend; no doubt doing the same thing with her his wife was doing with me.

It was late, but the hotel lobby had a few stragglers. I think I did a fair job of not acting too embarrassed as we marched through, hand in hand. The desk clerk didn’t even raise an eyebrow as we waited for the elevator. When the doors opened, Misty Sue giggled and pulled me inside. In the blink of an eye, she was against the wall, her hands under my shirt and her lips locked with mine. I leaned my palms against either side of her head, thoroughly intent on our kiss, loving the way her body felt along mine.

One of us must have pressed the button, because the doors opened and we were on our floor. We almost missed getting off - the elevator, that is - as the doors began to shut again. I cursed under my breath, and leapt back to block it open. Giving Misty Sue a mock glare, I held out my hand. “Let’s go, sexy. We’ll save the elevator for another time.”

“Oh, promises, promises,” she said, giving me her hand.

I produced the card key from my wallet, trying in vain to ignore Misty Sue’s hands wandering over my rear end as I unlocked the door. Pushing it open, I waved her in, pinching her butt as she passed. She yelped, and sped away from me. I paused only long enough to put the Do Not Disturb sign on the door, then shut and locked it. The key landed on a table near the door.

The hotel room was a nice one. About the only hotel I’d ever been in was a Motel 6 when we visited my aunt and uncle one time. This place screamed quality in comparison. The furniture looked like real wood instead of pressed particleboard. As I got all the way into the room, I saw Misty Sue’s dress tossed onto the bed, but no sign of her. Well, that didn’t take long, did it? Water began running in the bathroom, so I knew she was filling the tub. That had to be the coolest thing about the room, the jet spa in the bathtub.

I went to the sliding glass door at the other end of the room, stopping to run a hand along her dress. It was warm, and I smelled her scent on the clothing. Another odor filled the air, bath salts or something drifting on the steam coming from the next room. I inhaled deep, and continued to the door.

The city laid out before me like a multi-faceted jewel, gleaming in the dark. A nice place to visit, but not someplace I’d want to live. I preferred my quiet life at the garage. Still, the idea of going back to Sneakers sometime, just to see what could happen, held a lot of appeal.

In the reflection of the glass I saw a shadow pass the bathroom door, solidifying into a dark silhouette. As I focused on the scene instead of the city, I saw Misty Sue leaning against the jamb, long legs casually crossed, watching me. I turned around to smile at her. “My goodness, there’s a naked woman in my room. I’m going to have to give this hotel a four star rating.”

“Your goodness isn’t what I was hoping for,” Misty Sue said.

I laughed, and left the exterior view for the much more interesting interior one. “And what exactly were you hoping for?” I asked, sidling up to her. Forcing myself to take my time, I stood just within reach, and caressed her cheek with the back of my knuckles. She leaned into my touch, and I turned my hand, cupping her face.

“You’re getting warmer.” Her voice was husky, and she licked her lips.

My smile faded as I watched her reaction. I brushed my thumb against her wet lips, and she rewarded me with a kiss on the pad. My fingers drifted down her throat. Her skin was soft and very warm, slightly damp from the steam in the bathroom. When I traced the roundness of her breast, she sighed and closed her eyes, her lips parting.

Not able to pass up an invitation like that, I leaned forward to kiss her. The first was barely a touch, more to let her know I was there. The next was fierce. I closed the distance between us, firmly grasping her breast as I brought my other hand to her neck, guiding her. Her tongue danced with mine, and I felt her hands clutching at my clothing.

When I broke off, we were both panting. “Oh, you’re definitely getting warmer,” Misty Sue said, breathless.

I chuckled, and kissed her on the forehead. Giving her breast a gentle tweak, I released her. “Go on. Get into the tub. I’ll be right there.”

Her eyes were full of want. “Promise?”

Kissing her again, I kept it slow and deliberate, nipping at her lower lip when I finished. “I’ve kept my promises up ‘til now, haven’t I?”

She growled in frustration. “Slow, you’re going to be the death of me, yet.” Turning, she gave me an unimpeded look at her backside. “Don’t take too long, or I’ll start without you.”

You know, that could probably be fun.

Shaking away the distracting image, I waved her on, ignoring her pout. I waited until I heard her splashing in the tub before going to my backpack. I stripped, leaving my clothes in a pile near my bag. Digging inside, I extracted a long velvet covered box. It can’t be Valentine’s Day without a proper gift. Only then did I go to the bathroom door to peek inside.

Misty Sue idled in the large tub. The water was mostly still, so she hadn’t turned on the jets. A moist aroma of lavender filled the room, and I saw the bottle of bath oil by the sink. Her breasts floated, buoyant, water lapping against her skin, and her dark hair was haphazardly pulled up onto her head.

“Hey.”

Her eyes opened, a lazy smile playing across her lips. “Hey yourself.”

“Close your eyes.”

Curious, she sat up, her hands slowly moving as though caressing the water. “Why? What’s going on?”

“Just close your eyes. You’ll see.” I winked. “It’s a surprise.”

Her smile widened, and she did what I told her.

I entered the bathroom. When I got to the tub, I said, “Keep ‘em closed. And scoot forward a little bit.” I slipped into the water behind her, marveling at the amount of space we had. Even if I had a bathtub at the garage, I didn’t think it’d be enough room for two women to fit comfortably.

“Show me my surprise,” she said, a hint of eagerness in her voice.

Lifting the lid of the jewelry box, I held it in front of her. “Okay. Open your eyes.”

Misty Sue gave a little gasp as she spied the necklace. “Oh, Slow! It’s beautiful!” She started to reach for it, but stopped as water dripped down her arms. “My hands are wet. Take it out; let me see.”

I did as ordered, feeling the delicate silver chain flow across my fingers. Hanging from the necklace was a small guitar charm, a tiny zircon chip sparkling in the sound well. It wasn’t much, I admit, but a pretty woman deserved pretty things, and today was a special day. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Misty,” I said, kissing the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

“Oh, help me put it on!”

I set the empty box on the floor, and laid the necklace against her skin. It took a bit of fumbling. The damned catch was tiny, and my fingers were used to dealing with stubborn carburetors and faulty transmissions, not delicate silver. I breathed in relief when I succeeded, running my hands along her shoulders and upper arms once I finished.

Misty Sue leaned back against me, peering down at the charm against her breastbone, gently tracing it with one finger. “Thank you, Slow.”

I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. “A beautiful woman like you should wear beautiful things.”

She turned slightly in my arms, and tilted her head to give me a welcome smile. Then her hand left the necklace as she reached for me.

One thing about Misty Sue - she had kissing down to a fine art. This one was leisurely and lazy, just enough to start the juices flowing again. Her tongue traced my lips, easily sliding into my mouth at my invitation. Her hand in my hair was hot from the water temperature. I moaned at the lust slowly twisting in my belly, my clit throbbing with anticipation. My hands eased around her waist, pulling her tight against me. The bath stuff she used caused her skin to feel slippery against mine.

I broke away first, drawing a trail of kisses to her ear. She relaxed into my touch, one hand on the edge of the bathtub, and the other finding mine under the water. A soft sound came from her throat as I nibbled her earlobe. She hugged my arm against her, shivering. I jumped a little when the jets started. Chuckling, I nipped her neck, realizing she had hit the controls.

The feeling of water rushing and bubbling against me was interesting. Misty Sue giggled like a schoolgirl, and squirmed in my grip. As bubbles caressed our flesh, I continued stroking hers. Her hand remained on mine, a gentle voyeur feeling what I felt as I enjoyed her body.

With a little effort, I positioned Misty Sue so that she was seated on my lap. The water made it pretty easy. To keep her from sliding away because of the bath oil, I lifted one knee, planting my foot against the non-slip surface, and her legs straddling mine. Now I was free to explore. Both my hands found her breasts, delighting in their weight and texture as I gave them a gentle massage. She arched into my grasp, her ass grinding into my lap in the process. I bit back a growl, lavishing her neck with attention.

I had the perfect view over her shoulder. Her nipples were swollen peaks begging for attention, the muscles in her thighs flexing beneath the flawless skin as she moved against me. With her hand on mine, I circled a nipple, using my thumb and forefinger to apply pressure. Misty Sue gasped, her fingers digging into the back of my hand.

Giving her breast another squeeze, I slipped out from beneath her hand, reversing the situation. Now I directed her as she played with herself. I slowly withdrew my hand, easing along her ribs and belly.

"That's nice," I murmured. "Use both hands."

Her chest moved as she panted, and did as I ordered. I moaned as I watched her expertly manipulate her nipples, pulling hard and twisting them.

My hands were not idle. They enjoyed the slipperiness of her skin, moving along her belly and thighs, skirting to dig my nails into her flanks. She jumped as I played in soft hair, barely brushing her hypersensitive clit.

Misty Sue groaned as I slid past to her upper thighs, blindly turning her face toward me. I kissed her, hard, ravenous, at the same time I firmly slid two fingers along the entrance to her vagina. Her legs widened as far as they could in the tub, and she tilted her hips to give me full access. Her tongue swirled with mine, and I watched her busily manipulating her breasts, fingertips flicking rosy nipples.

She was wet, the thicker texture of her excitement easing my finger's transition along her sex. I added another finger, gently easing her lower lips apart to feel her true heat. Her hips hitched forward, and she abandoned one breast to guide my hand. "Please, Slow," she whimpered, pushing against my wrist. "I want to feel you inside."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," I said. I kept one hand on her belly, pressing her body against mine; reminding her I was there. With practiced ease, I plunged my fingers inside her, feeling her grip convulse on my wrist. The walls of her vagina grasped at my fingers, and she moaned aloud as I began a slow fucking. The water lapped harder as her body followed the rhythm I set. My strokes were long, and I ignored her attempts to speed things up.

Pretty soon, it wasn't enough for her, and she balanced on the point of frustration. She left off playing with her breasts, both hands leaving the water to grip the sides of the tub for purchase as she tried to grind further into my hand. I picked up the pace, nibbling at her neck and ear, watching her profile as her face contorted in lust. Water splashed over the edge of the tub, and onto the floor, the only other sound punctuating her moans and grunts of exertion.

It was time. I eased my hand on her belly down until I brushed her clit. She cried out at the touch, surging upward. I added another finger to those fucking her, rubbing her swollen nub in time with my thrusts. There was nothing but heat, and water, and cries of desire. Misty Sue was beautiful to behold as she writhed in my grip, her pants harsh and moans filled with longing. They echoed off the tile, music to my ears.

Grinding hard against my hand, she stilled for a split second, the cue I was waiting for. I thrust hard inside her, pinching her clit near the base with gentle purpose. It pushed her over the edge, and she came with a cry. I stayed with her, letting her ride the sensation until the last of her orgasm faded.

With a gentle touch, I pulled out of her, easing my hands away from their warm haven to lightly caress her skin. She was languid against me, her head almost lolling on my chest. I waited until she began to stir on her own.

"Mmmm, Slow," she said, her voice thick and husky.

"Very nice," I whispered into her ear. I was still hot and bothered, though, and I pressed my hips up against her, liking the feel of desire throbbing in my blood.

She chuckled, and caressed my thigh still wedged between her legs. "Shall we trade places? I want to thank you for a wonderful Valentine's Day."

Far be it for me to discourage a lady.

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