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I hadn’t seen Hannah since the last time I was in New York to do a poetry reading my brother had arranged at the library. That was two years ago and I didn’t know whether I would see her on my return visit to read now that my book was published. She had been careful not to tell me where she lived or give me any information about her so I had no way to let her know. Still I fantasized that we would meet again.
I remembered the afternoon two years ago when we accidentally met in a café. She was sitting across from me at another table reading a David Mamet play but we kept looking at each other. In fact I was writing about her in my journal and suddenly she invited me to join her. I had just arrived from my cabin in Maine and definitely did not look like an upper West Side New Yorker with my shaggy beard, longish grey hair and flannel shirt. I remembered how exotic and gypsy-like she looked with her olive colored skin, her colorful paisley skirt, cowboy boots, her long dark curly hair, a colorful scarf around her neck, dangling earrings.
She told me about her boyfriend who she loves a lot and they have a good life, but that she has several cyber lovers and a whole secret life he doesn’t have a clue about. Somehow we started talking about our secret sexual fantasies and it was clear we were turning each other on by our stories. Suddenly we were so hot we left the café for one of those hotel rooms where lovers can meet for a few hours.
I remembered how she wanted us to act out a fantasy like we were on-line but not actually fuck—somehow she felt that wasn’t cheating on him. I thought it was strange but went along with it and it was still very hot. As soon as we entered the room, already horny, we started grinding our bodies against each other, moaning, kissing, groping. We quickly undressed as she pulled me to the bed spread her legs and started rubbing her pussy, slipping her finger under her bikini panties, while I hovered over her on my knees, my hard cock above her and jerked off until both of exploded, my cum gushing over her body, she screaming to fuck her harder and that was it. She got dressed and said she had to meet her boyfriend in half an hour. I was stunned by what happened but accepted the strangeness.
When she left that afternoon, I hoped she would come to my reading that night but doubted it. I didn’t tell my brother what happened but kept wondering whether she would show up.I was surprised to see her slip into the room just as I was to begin. She gave a little wave and smiled as she stood leaning against the wall then took a seat in the last row. After the reading, as people gathered around me, she slipped a note in my hand to meet her in the same room in a half an hour. The hotel was just a block away from the library.
Again, we got very hot and masturbated with each other but then things got out of hand as we rolled around on the bed—she riding me. I flipped her on her back started humping her harder. It got pretty wild. We lost control and fucked each other dizzy, screaming as we both exploded in huge orgasms at the same time. When we left the hotel that night, knowing we had shared something special, she went one way and I went the other and that was it. I didn’t think we would ever meet again.
Fast forward to the night I was to read again in New York. Just before the reading was to begin and people where gathering in the bookstore café, I was delighted to see her walk in. My heart leaped with surprise and gladness. I guess she must have seen the posters advertising my new book and the reading-book signing event. Our eyes met and we nodded our greeting. She smiled and walked to the counter to order a coffee while I shuffled through the new poems I was going to read. We kept glancing at each other.
When I noticed what she was wearing I wondered whether she was dressing in order to make something happen later. She looked really hot in a short tight denim mini skirt that was high on her thighs, a tight maroon turtle neck shirt with a black unbuttoned sleeveless vest and cowboy boots. Her long black hair was flowing half way down her back. The vest did not hide her tits straining her shirt. She looked sexy and elegant at the same time. This was not the way she usually dressed for work. Normally, she dressed in loose paisley peasant skirts, blouses and generally more conservatively. Tonight, she was dressing to seduce me.
I looked down at my poetry in a folder then looked up at her as she took a seat at a table near the front but off to the side. Our eyes met as she sipped her coffee, looking over the rim at me. She then put her cup down and leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs, the skirt rising higher on her thigh, her tits stretching the tight shirt. Our eyes met again and I remember her smile when she nodded her head for me to come to her.
People were still coming in and getting settled as I walked over to her table. I stood looking down at her, loving how her legs looked in the short skirt and cowboy boots.
“Well, hello,”I said, smiling etimesgut escort at her. “I was wondering whether you would come to my reading.”
“You were, were you?” she answered coyly.
“Yes, I was hoping to see you again.”
“Well, here I am,” she said, grinning at me.
“Yes,” I nodded. “And looking quite nice,” I added.
“Nice, huh,” she said, a frown replacing her smile. “Nice?”
“Well, maybe nice isn’t the right word,” I said, realizing she was not trying to look nice, but wanted to send me another message—which she was doing loud and clear.
“Right,” she said, grinning. “Nice is not the right word, but thanks–I know what you meant.”
“What are you doing after the reading?” I asked.
“What would you like me to do after the reading?” she answered, looking into my eyes, smiling.
“You know the answer to that question,” I said, both of us enjoying our teasing little game.
“So how are things with you and your boyfriend? Does he still not know about your secret fantasy life?”
“Doesn’t have a clue,” she said. “And doesn’t need to know.”
“We’re very happy. He’s a great guy and we share a lot of interests, but he just doesn’t have the sex drive I have.”
“I remember from the last time how you have your cyber lovers and you keep that separate from you relationship with him—your secret life.”
“Right,” she said. “Now can we drop that? I don’t want to go there.”
“I understand,” I said, looking into her eyes, seeing a little discomfort, a brief awkwardness.
“I’m here now to hear your poetry and maybe hang our later,” she said, smiling up at me. “Maybe have some fun,” she added.
“Sounds good,” I answered, “I would love to have some fun with you later. Go some place and play.”
“Me, too,”she said. “I could use a good playmate.” Our eye locked on each other.
I could feel myself getting an erection when she said that but had to focus on my reading. I glanced up at the clock and around the room and saw everyone was settled and waiting.
“You’re not making it easy for me to give a poetry reading,” I said, my leg rubbing against her thigh as I stood above her.
“Good,” she said. “I like making it hard for you,” she teased knowing I would enjoy her pun. .
“You do, do you?” I responded, my cock growing harder. “You’re bad.”
“I know,” she said. “Are you going to punish me?”
“Yes,” I said. I then bent down and whispered in her ear. “And then I’m going to fuck you.”
“You think so, do you?”she said, as I stood up.
“I know so,” I said and touched her chin just as the woman who was introducing me stood at the lectern.
I stood at Hannah’s table as the woman put on the glasses hanging from a thin strap. She read from her notes, mentioning some of the places I had published and how my new book had won first prize and publication. I went to the lectern, nodded to the audience as they applauded, glanced over at Hannah, smiled and then began the reading.
I mentioned some things about the poems, read a few, stopped and told the story of how I wrote a particular poem, read a few more, said a few things that brought laughter. I mentioned that I lived in an off the grid cabin in Maine, read a few garden poems. I looked at a few people as I read, trying to make eye contact. People were attentive, responsive to certain lines, one woman jotted down some lines in a note book.
I looked over at Hannah who listened attentively, a few times our eyes met. I knew she loved literature and was well read. She had majored in English in college and I could tell she liked my poetry. I tried not to think about how sexy and beautiful she looked in a feeble attempt to stay focused, but the next poem brought me back to the reading.
When I finished the last poem, I thanked people for coming and said I would sign books if they wanted. Several people came up to the lectern with their books and we chatted. Hannah watched from her table, our eyes meeting as I glanced over at her. At one point she smiled and licked her lower lip slowly with her tongue, our eyes met and I was ready to get out of there. Still, people gathered around me, making small talk about how they liked a certain poem or how a poem reminded them of some other poem they loved. I was patient but still anxious to be out of there and with Hannah.
Finally, everyone left and Hannah came up to me as I put my folder of new poems and my book into my little brief case.
You’re quite the poet,”she said. “I like how you read—very passionate.”
“Thanks,” I nodded, looking at her. “But now I want to celebrate with you.”
“Hmmmmm. Sounds interesting,” she said. “What do you have in mind?”
“Champagne and a little bit of this and that.”
“Good idea. I would love to celebrate with you and I adore champagne.”
“And I know the place,” I said.
“Our hotel room from two years ago?” she asked.
“Nope,” I said. “My brother’s etimesgut escort bayan penthouse on 87th He’s out of town and couldn’t be here tonight, but said I could stay at his place.”
Nice,” Hannah smiled. “What luck.”
“And I happen to have champagne,”I added.
“Even luckier,” she said, standing closer to me, rubbing her tits against my arm.
“It’s not luck,” I said.”I wasn’t sure if we would meet, but I thought if we did, I knew what I wanted to have happen.”
“You did, did you?’ she said.
“And what did you want to have happen?”
“Well, you know what a little champagne can do when two people who want each other get together to celebrate.”
Hannah nodded and smiled. “You are filled with inspiration, aren’t you?”
“I am,” I answered. “Let’s get out of here.”
As we left, I glanced up at the poster of me at the book store entrance. She smiled as we both looked at it. “You’re better looking in person,” she said.
“Thanks,” I responded, looking at my shaggy beard, long grey hair, my eyes behind wire rimmed glasses looking as if I was seeing something in the distance—which I wasn’t.
“You look more youthful and energetic in person—not so serious as in that poster.”
“That’s my poet pose the publisher’s photographer wanted,” I chuckled.
“Right and not the older guy picking up young woman in cafés look,” she said.
I nodded and took her hand as we left the bookstore.
My brother’s apartment was two blocks away. It was about nine-thirty and I was amazed at how crowded the streets were.
“So many people out walking,” I said. “Not like my town where the streets are empty by seven.”
“This is New York, buddy—the city that never sleeps,”she said, as we weaved in and out of people.
Hannah was definitely a New Yorker, walking quickly, crossing the street just as the yellow hand on the traffic light came on telling us to stop. “Come on,” she yelled over the honking horns and a siren. I followed her as she dashed across the busy street.
When we entered the apartment building, the doorman smiled, saluting me in greeting and glanced at Hannah. “Have a nice night,” he said as I pressed the elevator button.
“Wait ’til you see this apartment,” I said as we went up to the thirtieth floor. “It’s like a museum.The guy who owns the apartment is a collector of everything and there is so much to see. You won’t believe it.”
“Isn’t this your brother’s place?” Hannah asked.
“No, he just stays here—it’s a long story I’ll tell you sometime, but it’s quite a place.” I paused. “And they guy whose apartment it is is away for a few weeks.”
Finally, the last dink of the elevator bell let us know we were at the end of the line.
“Here we are,” I said as the elevator door opened and we walked down the dimly lit hall to the apartment.
When we entered, Hannah’s eyes widened as she saw the huge collection of sea shells on a long breakfront, the walls were filled with paintings. We walked into the dining room with a long table, cluttered with an assortment of little glass statues, colorful porcelain bowls and dishes, more sea shells, a bowl of Russian marble eggs. I took here through the many rooms filled with objects in every corner.
“My brother says this place is decorated in early clutter,” I said.
Hannah nodded and chuckled. “I can see why.”
I went into the kitchen to grab the champagne from the refrigerator and some glasses.
“Stand back while I open the bottle,”I said, peeling the wrapping around the top. I began twisting the cork and started singing the nursery rhyme, “Here we go around the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush” and just as the cork came off with a loud pop, I sang, “Pop goes the weasel.”
Hannah laughed as the champagne bubbled up and sprayed. “You’re so elegant,” she said as I poured her a glass and handed it to her. I then poured mine and we clicked glasses. “La Chiam,” we both said at the same time—a Jewish cheer that means “To life!”
We then walked out to the large patio balcony that surrounds the apartment and looked out at the lights of the city. We stood there in the cool night air, sipping our champagne, enjoying each other’s company and relaxing. The full moon was bright in the eastern sky.
“This is nice,’ she said, standing next to me, our arms touching as we looked out at the city.
“It is,” I agreed.
We finished our champagne and we went back into the apartment. I poured each of us another glass and we sat on the large sofa in the living room. She looked around the room again, absorbing everything. We were quiet, uncertain how we would approach each other as we sat, drinking, anticipating.
“So here we are,’ she said. ‘Two strangers who meet in a café, have a fling and think that’s that.”
“Right and here we are again, two years later.” I said.
Hannah nodded, took a big sip of her champagne and handed the glass to escort etimesgut me. “How about a refill, mister,” she said, looking into my eyes. .
I reached for the bottle on the small table next to me and poured the champagne into her glass and more into mine, emptying the bottle.
We clicked glasses again then drank the champagne, our eyes looking into each others eyes, both of us feeling the woozy, loosening, erotic effects. Hannah moved towards the arm of the couch, leaned back and put her feet up, her cowboy boots on my lap, her skirt high up on her thigh.
“I’m feeling drunk and dangerous,” she said, spreading her legs, her tits straining at her tight shirt, the nipples like little peaks on the hills of her breasts.
“You’re looking pretty dangerous,” I said, feeling my cock getting hard as I looked at her legs and tits, her dark curly hair flowing in back of her, her warm brown eyes looking into mine.
I moved my hand to her leg, just above her knee and started to rub her thigh, loving how soft her warm skin felt. She spread her legs apart slightly as I touched her and she moved her boot over the bulge in my jeans.
“No fucking,” she said, “Just playing like we do in fantasy land.”
“We’re not in fantasy land, Hannah,” I said, as I rubbed higher on her thigh.
“We can do everything but not actually fuck,” she said, moving her foot harder against my cock.
“You like playing with fire, don’t you,” I said.
“I do,” she answered. “I like danger. I like playing and teasing, but we will not fuck—that’s the rule.”
We were both drunk, touching each other, horny as could be and I just listened to her words.
“Is that cool with you?” she asked.
“No, it’s not cool with me,” I answered, looking into her eyes.
“Well, it better be because I won’t let you fuck me. We’re just going to masturbate and pretend we’re fucking. Get it!” she said as if ordering me. “I get what you’re saying but that’s not what’s going to happen,” I said.”You can’t dress like that, get drunk with me and think we’re not going to fuck.”
“I just want to play like we are secret lovers and this is our fantasy. It’s not really fucking if we masturbate together. I’m not really cheating on my boy friend.”
I just looked at her and moved my hand further up her thigh, until I was under her skirt, just below her pussy.
“We’ll see,” I said as I placed my hand on her pussy and started rubbing. “Mmmmmmmm.” she moaned as she pushed her self into my hand, closing her eyes.
I had no idea how Hannah was going to handle our getting so horny and then not want me to fuck her, but I kept going, knowing I wanted her and was not going to just masturbate.
She then shoved my hand away and placed her hand on her mound and started rubbing her pussy, spreading her legs wider apart. She looked into my eyes as she rubbed herself.
“You want me, don’t you?” she said. “But you can’t have me,” she added, her eyes looking into mine, biting her lower lip. She then closed her eyes as the pleasure she was giving her self got more intense. She was moaning.
My cock was raging in my jeans and I could not take my eyes off of her hand rubbing her pussy. I was drunk and just wanted to fuck her.
I moved her boots aside, got up on my knees, unzipped my jeans and took my cock out. She opened her eyes and looked at my hard cock and then into my eyes.
“You’re so big and hard,” she said.
I didn’t say anything as I moved on my knees between her open legs, holding my cock in my hand.
“Jerk off,” she said. “Pretend you’re fucking me.”
I just looked down at her as she rubbed her pussy through her bikini panties. Our eyes fixed on each other’s eyes.
I was going to play her game for awhile but knew where it would end. I couldn’t let her tease me like this and not fuck her—no way.
“You want my cunt, don’t you?” she said, getting raunchier.
“Yes,” I said, moving her hand aside and pressed the tip of my cock against her panty covered pussy. “And you want my cock,” I said, pushing harder, my cock feeling the barrier of her wet panties.
“Jerk off,” she said, as I pressed my cock harder against her pussy, moving it slowly up and down. She pushed me up from her pussy so that she could reach her hand inside of her panties and finger fuck herself. “Jerk off,” she said again, make it look like we’re fucking.”
No. I don’t want to pretend. I want to ravish you.” I said, watching her hand inside of her panties moving back and forth.
“No. I won’t let you fuck me,” she said.
“Oh yeah,” I said.’You can’t play games with me. I’m going to fuck you,”I said as I moved closer, pushing my cock against her hands through her panties, hearing the wet slushy sound of her fingers going in and out of her pussy.
“No! No!” she yelled then lifted her boots to my chest and started to push me back. I started to realize as she tried kicking me away that this is what she wanted. This was part of the fantasy. She wanted me to take her,”You can’t fuck me!” she yelled again.
She pushed me harder with her boots, pushing me back, her legs apart, her tight skirt at her hips. “You can’t fuck me!” she yelled and then quickly squirmed away from me and got off the couch and ran across the room before I could grab her arm.
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