Bring Your Curiosity

"I was afraid you'd never speak to me again, Edie."

David ran a hand down my arm and a shiver followed behind, sending goosebumps popping across my skin.

"I don't know what possessed me to take a risk like that."

He looked at me carefully. I waited, heart beating hard. It seemed to take ages from the time he began to bend toward me until his lips touched mine. I thought, in that seemingly endless interval, I would faint from anticipation and disbelief.

It was a soft, almost chaste kiss, nothing like the kiss from a month before, the kiss I hadn't been able to get out of my head, the kiss that had left me rubber-kneed, breathless, and longing for more. His lips touched mine softly, and he stood for a few heartbeats without any kind of advance. Was he waiting for my response? I didn't want him to doubt my desires, but my brain was moving too slowly to react before he drew back.

"Is this really what you want?" He reached his hand up to touch my cheek with his fingertips. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure," I said, doing my best to keep my voice level.

"Because, I know what I want, Edie." He ran his palm over my cheek. "I know what I want, and it's not entirely appropriate. Not at all appropriate, in fact."

My heart jumped. I swallowed and wondered where all the air had gone.

"When I kissed you, you kissed me back. I wasn't imagining that, was I?"

I felt suddenly lightheaded and overheated as his hand slid down my cheek and over my neck, but managed to shake my head.

"It was a very sexy kiss, too," he said.

It seemed unreal, impossible, but it was happening—David was touching me, advancing on me, using words so provocative and enticing they took my breath away.

"Have you ever been with a man older than you?"

I shook my head.

"But you're curious."

It was a statement, not a question.

"I am," I managed to say. My heart was pounding in my ears. His hand felt like fire on my skin as he paused before leaning toward me again. I watched him draw nearer and closed my eyes before his mouth reached mine, almost afraid to believe I wasn't dreaming.

I felt the heat of his lips and held my breath for the few seconds he paused, his mouth pressed to mine. He drew back enough to speak, his lips brushing against mine, his breath hot. "I'm curious too," he said softly and then he kissed me again. Once I shook the disbelief from my mind I kissed him back, reaching out to put my hand on his chest to steady myself.

At first he kissed me gently, his hand light against my cheek. It seemed like he was giving me the chance to retreat. But I didn't. He kissed me again with more intensity and intention, slipping his other hand to my waist. Then his mouth opened against mine and my hand on his chest became a fist, clutching the fabric of his shirt as a shiver ran through me.

I kept my eyes closed for a few seconds after he'd pulled away. Part of me expected to open my eyes and find I was standing alone—that the kiss had just been one of the countless fantasies I'd had for so long—but when I did, he was looking down at me, his eyes soft and searching.

"Still curious?" he whispered.

I looked at him and had to force my voice to work. "Yes."

He stroked my cheek and leaned in again, curving his fingers around my jaw. He tilted my head back slightly and brushed his thumb across my lower lip. I closed my eyes and a moment later, I felt the heat of his mouth on mine again. My breath caught in my chest, my heart throbbed, and then another second later his tongue split my lips and I gasped.

He kissed me and he held my chin in his hand, firmly, drawing me upward as if he would lift me from my feet. He kissed me deeply, gently forcing my mouth open as he did and I shuddered with pleasure and surprise. His tongue searched for mine, teasingly retreating so that when I followed and my tongue slipped between his lips he trapped it with his teeth. I whimpered as my pussy pulsed and shivers ran through my whole body.

He drew back enough to look at me for a second, checking my reaction. His eyes blazed with intensity, so much it made me shiver again, and then his mouth was on mine once more. I was in a state of over-excitement and found myself making little animal noises I couldn't control.

He kissed me with increasing passion, his teeth clashing against mine. He bit my lip and I yelped. He sucked it, and I moaned. He covered my mouth with his, holding me firmly by the chin so that I was forced to take desperate breaths through my nose until he finally released me, his hand sliding softly down my throat as he straightened his back.

I wobbled on my heels, but David held me steady. My heart was pounding in a panicky rhythm. I took quick, shallow breaths and felt with some confusion that my eyes were stinging with tears. When I tried to say something, all that came from my mouth was a long, tremulous Ohh.

I'd never felt anything that intense before, I'd never imagined a kiss could do that to me, and I never dreamed David would be that forceful. I'd been frightened for a moment, when his teeth had closed over my lip, but the fear had quickly been engulfed by the surges of pleasure and excitement that rolled through me, and now there was nothing but a throb of desire—one steady pulse in my neck, my chest, and between my legs. I looked at him and felt the tears in my eyes; I was dazzled.

David had kissed me—kissed me hard, with passion, with obvious lust. It hadn't been what I'd imagined—he'd always been a calm and gentle person, I'd never even seen him lose his temper, so to have him kiss me so intensely left me confused—but I was undeniably turned on.

"I think I should feel ashamed of myself, but I don't. My feelings aren't perverted. Not abnormally so, anyway." He smiled and twirled his index finger around a dark curl hanging near my face. He tugged it gently, letting it go to watch it spring back into shape. "I promise I never looked at you like this until this year, certainly never when you were younger. Do you believe me when I say that?"

He looked at me carefully again, eyes jumping over my face, his brow drawn slightly. I had to swallow before I could answer.

"I believe you," I said quietly.

"But now I can't look at you without wanting to touch you." He stepped closer and put his hands on my waist. "Do you trust me, Edie?"

Something in his expression made me pause. "I do," I said after a second.

"Because there are so many things I want to do with you," he said. He pulled me toward him again so that our bodies touched and then one hand slid from my waist up my side, his thumb brushing along the underside of my breast. "There are so many ways I want to touch you, and pleasure you."

My heart beat faster than ever and my head swam. He looked at me with such focus I couldn't blink. I held still as his hand slid purposefully over my breast, his fingers closing to hold the curve within his palm.

"Is that what you want too?"

"Yes." My voice was a whisper, all my breath was gone. I wanted it, whatever he wanted, I wanted it too.

The sound of a car door shutting made me jump and push him away. It was Jeremy. Or Ben. It had to be. What would they think? Would they wonder why I was here alone? Would they guess how I felt? I put my hand over my jumping heart and looked toward the window, praying we hadn't been seen.

David turned and walked to the kitchen door after giving me an amused, but slightly guilty look. He pulled it open, stepping out onto the porch. I stood rooted to the spot, my heart loud in my ears. When Ben stepped through I could tell by his expression he hadn't seen a thing, and that he didn't find it odd I was here—alone with his dad—I'd spent so much of the last ten years at their house I was practically family.

"Hey, E," he said as he crossed the room and gave me a quick hug. "How are ya?"

I hugged him back, feeling a confusion of emotions. I was genuinely happy to see him, I was relieved he hadn't seen his dad's hand on my breast, but the relief was laced with guilt. And Ben knew me so well I was worried he'd see in my expression that I was hiding something.

If he noticed, he didn't let on, and a moment later David and Ben's older brother Jeremy stepped through the door. We exchanged our hellos and sat in the kitchen for a little while talking, settling into an old, familiar routine. I found I couldn't look at David, couldn't bring my eyes to meet his. I was jumpy and distracted the whole time we were chatting. I could see Ben looking at me funny, and I decided I should go before he got around to asking what was wrong.

I made my excuses—said I was tired because I worked late last night—and headed for the door.

"Can you come for dinner, E?" Ben asked.

"No, not tonight." I shook my head as I slipped on my jacket. "My mom's going in to work at nine, so I can come over after."

"Awesome. I can kick your ass at Scrabble."

Ben's bright eyes stirred the guilt inside me. To him, everything was like it had always been and this was just another weekend at home with his dad, his brother, and his best friend. We'd play Scrabble and talk and laugh like we always did, and he'd have no idea about the throb between my legs and all the things his dad had said to me, all the things I was thinking.

"As if," I replied with as much sass as I could manage, and closed the door behind me.

Ben was my best, best friend. Nobody meant more to me than Ben. We'd been inseparable since the second grade when he, his brother and their dad moved into the neighborhood, and had remained close ever since. We were currently 200 miles apart at different schools, but we still kept in close contact—phone calls a couple of times a month and endless text messages back and forth.

If one of us was going home for the weekend, the other would try to make it too, so we did manage to see each other once a month at the least. This weekend in particular Ben had come home to go to a wedding, and even though we'd only get to hang out for one day, I'd immediately switched my work schedule around so I could see him.

Although I had other reasons for wanting to come home, too.

Ben and I told each other everything, we always had. He knew all my fears and hopes, what mortified me and what I cared about most. He also knew my entire sexual history—every boy I'd ever had a crush on, kissed, dated, or slept with. We might have been attracted to each other at some point during adolescence, but nothing ever happened—we were too much like brother and sister for romance to develop.

I had my own family, of course—an older sister, my mom and her boyfriend—but I felt more a part of a family when I was at Ben's house. I was always welcome and since my mom worked in the evenings, I spent a lot of time there after school.

But I was always a little on the outside. David and his sons were very close. His wife had died suddenly when the boys were in grade school, and the three of them bonded intensely within the grief that followed, growing closer as a result. There was a strong sense of responsibility in their family, and David held his sons to high standards, both in terms of personal achievement and social behavior. They were dedicated students and athletes, driven and focused in any task they were set, and you couldn't find two more polite and helpful boys anywhere.

I spent the rest of the afternoon with my mom, but I was in a constant state of distraction. I couldn't get David's words out of my head, and every so often all the sensations of David's kisses would flood my brain and overwhelm me. The desire to be near him, to be kissed and touched again pulsed like a flame inside me.

It wasn't much better at their house. We played Scrabble, we joked around, but I was agitated, distracted, and so turned on I could feel the wetness between my legs every time I shifted in my seat. I avoided David's gaze, but when I looked at his sons I saw his features—the same long proportions, fine blonde hair, and dark blue eyes. I ended up going home earlier than I might have because I couldn't stand the tension any longer. I'd claimed to be tired earlier, but now I was exhausted.

David was waiting at the door when I approached it. He met my eyes and I felt it to my toes—his desire, his lust.

"Come by tomorrow," he said. For a second my heart jumped—he'd said it loud enough Ben could have heard—but it was a simple and perfectly normal invitation to anyone listening. What wasn't spoken was understood by us; he'd be alone. Both boys would be out for the night. He'd be alone. We'd be alone, together.

"OK," I said, hoping I managed to sound casual, normal.

He opened the door and as I passed by, he touched my arm lightly. I looked at him and he said, in a softer voice, "Bring your curiosity." And then I was through the door, stunned and thrilled and scared all at once.

The next day my mom and I went shopping in the afternoon and then had dinner out together. Usually I liked the time we spent together, but my mind was elsewhere the whole time. Time seemed to drag endlessly, painfully, and all the while I was strung tight inside, full of anticipation, desire, and uncertainty. It seemed a foregone conclusion; if I went to David's tonight, we'd have sex. The idea sent a thrill of panic through me, and left me with a warm feeling of arousal.

I took a long time getting ready to go over, getting more and more turned on by the second. I hadn't brought anything home to wear that was really nice—just jeans and knit tops—and the only clothes still in my closet were too dressy to wear. I would have liked to have had a skirt at least, but in the end I had to settle for simplicity: white cotton bra and panties, a long-sleeved dark blue top, and jeans. I spent the most time on my hair and scrutinizing myself in the mirror.

I'd always been petite, it was a trait that ran in my family, none of the women on my mother's side were taller than 5'2". I was thin, too, and more or less pleased with my body. My mom had made a point of teaching her daughters to love what they had, not compare themselves to others. I sometimes thought my breasts were too small, but I had friends with big breasts who complained about it being uncomfortable, so in the end I was happy to be small. None of my boyfriends had minded.

When I was a kid my hair had always been a mess. It was long, dark, and curly with a tendency to go frizzy. I'd had an arsenal of clips, headbands, ponytail ties, and styling products to keep it in check and was thrilled when I finally found a stylist who knew how to cut it so my curls fell naturally and softly around my face. I wore it long, I always had, just past my shoulders. I considered it my best attribute.

"See you in the morning, honey," my mom called up the stairs. I listened through the rumble of the garage door and the silence that followed as she left for work, and my heart started beating faster.

Finally.

I gave myself one last look in the mirror, took a deep breath, and left for David's.

It took all of ten seconds for me to get from my back door to David's. Our back yards met at a line of apple trees. There wasn't even a fence between, just a row of trees and the wooden trellises at the back of my mom's garden. As I passed under the low tree branches, I remembered the first kiss—it had been here, late at night, David had walked me out the door and to the edge of his property and kissed me. One soft kiss, and one a little more passionate. He'd looked at me, told me he thought I was beautiful, and kissed me one more time, leaving me shaking from the rush of sensation and emotion. And now, here I was again.

The kitchen was dark, but there was a light on in the living room beyond. I knocked softly then pushed the door open like I had ten thousand times in my childhood. David appeared in the doorway from the living room and flicked the overhead light, moving toward me.

"Hi," I said, but it came out like a question.

He smiled, crossed the room and reached for my jacket. I blushed and took it off, handing it to him as I looked away. While he hung it on a hook by the door, I quietly slipped my shoes off and stood, unable to look at him. Suddenly, I was feeling shy and unsure of myself. He reached for my hand and I let him lead me across the room. He turned around to face me just as we'd gone half way, and I looked up at him, finally meeting his eyes again.

"Hi," he said quietly. I laughed, my tension eased a little, and a moment later, he took my face in his hands and without another word, bent and kissed me. I panicked for a moment, overwhelmed, and then I reached up to put both my hands on chest, willing myself to relax and enjoy the kiss.

For a long time we kissed tenderly, his hands eventually moving to rest lightly at my waist. I felt my body growing warmer and lighter as our mouths met and parted in a languorous series of movements, lost in the fluidity of pleasure.

When he drew back and looked at me again there was so much affection in his face I felt my heart swell.

"You know I love, you. Right?" He asked.

I nodded. He'd never said it, but it was something I knew. I knew he cared about me like he cared about his own kids.

"And you trust me? Right?"

"Yes," I said. I answered but, like yesterday when he'd asked me, something about his expression made me pause, gave me a feeling I couldn't name. I was still trying to decipher it when his hands returned to my face and once more he held it in a firm grip, bringing his mouth to mine. I made a noise of surprise as his tongue immediately slid between my lips. I recovered a second later, kissing him back, and our kisses grew rapidly greedier, more urgent.

Between the surges of pleasure I felt, the throb of my heart in my ears and the realization of what was happening, I couldn't think. David's hands were everywhere, no longer gentle, but grabbing and clutching me roughly. I felt caught in a current as his physical advances pushed me backward and his hands found and undid the fasteners on each article of clothing I was wearing, his quick caresses less about pleasure than contact.

I jumped when I felt the solidity of a wall behind me. Somehow we'd crossed the room while we'd been kissing and now stood at the doorway between the kitchen and living room. David pressed me against the door frame, his mouth at my throat. His hands slid under my shirt, up my sides, and I automatically raised my arms as he stripped the fabric off and let it fall to the floor. My bra was already undone in the back, the straps slipping down my shoulders. He wasted no time removing it and bringing his mouth lower. He kissed his way across the top of one breast and swiped his tongue across my nipple. I gasped. Meanwhile his hands were at my hips pushing my jeans lower, his thumbs hooked into the thin fabric of my panties. I gasped again as his tongue found my other nipple and held onto his shoulders as he ducked down to draw my legs from my jeans.

It had all happened so fast, I was out of breath from surprise as much as arousal. I'd fantasized about this so many times, but I'd never expected him to be so lusty.

He trailed his hands along my body as he straightened up, his eyes following, taking in the sight of my naked body. He kissed me again and I awkwardly put my arms around his neck as his hands slowly roamed over my hips and ass then up over my breasts. He was moving slower now, and his touch was turning me on so much I had to pull my mouth from his to catch my breath.

He smiled, took both my hands in his and raised them up above my head. He leaned and placed a soft kiss on my mouth. I felt his hands on my wrists and realized, when he brought his hand down to my face, that he'd taken both my wrists and pinned them to the door frame with his hand. I looked at him questioningly, but he just smiled a wolfish smile and dragged his hand down my throat, over my breast and stomach, where he turned his wrist, angling his fingers toward the floor, and without a pause slid his whole hand over my sex, his fingers curling to rest between my thighs.