Chances

Irina is an easy talker, she's like those people who have probably fifty cards upon her sleeve, with many stories and topics to chat about. We've known each other for more than a decade and I've never seen her running out of subjects. Carl is equally keen on subjects, but he speaks way less than his wife. Nonetheless if you have a question about anything, chances are he might know the answer or will offer to look it up and explain later, in a very didactic way.

"Who's coming, anyways? I'm cooking for 10 people and hoping I won't have to skip dinner!" I ask, lying against the counter next to the stove while she looks at me through her glasses, and at her husband who is looking for something on the kitchen cabinets. I sigh while looking at the counter next to him, a piece of the just-made memory flashing before my eyes. The moans, the action, she sitting on my lap and riding on my fingers... Oh my!

"... our co-workers and la gringa. Did you invite someone else?" I come back from where my thoughts had taken me to find my lady friend staring at me, as if I had listened to anything she said (which was true). I know I am about to sigh, so I fake a yawn instead whilst getting away from the counter I was lying against and turning my back at her.

"I... Well, I thought about it, but I guess it would be too much to have someone new at a gathering like this... Right?" I smile rapidly and open the refrigerator so she doesn't get to read any of me – because sometimes I know she can understand me better than myself, not to mention pick things up in thin air.

"Seems like you had fun already..." She lets the words out on the air while I pour myself some water and pretend there's something to be checked in the fridge. I hear Carl making noises with glasses and placing them on the table while I check for the expiring date of some random products. "But I agree. People need a lot of stomach to endure our conversations, mainly when we talk about work..." The intercom rings and I nod to Irina in response just before answering that. Four more people had arrived.

"I love how sharp we all are!" I comment, looking at the first two guests and straightening my hair before getting to the door while Carl comments that we would hardly have those jobs weren't we able to be in the company either before or on time. It's 9:10 and we are already 09 people who work together, except for Carl and Eva who are married to Irina and Adam but are part of the pack.

Someone gets some music rolling on the background and drinks start being served as I help two of the ladies out in the kitchen, by organizing some trays for appetizers and informing where they could find some cutlery and crockery. I name Irina the one to show the place around, since it's fresh and most of that people got to follow all the hustle of the acquisition process. People go on the tours and the place seems lively and thriving like never before – I take my moment to look around, a smile at the corner of my lips, when Sandy asks me for some water, not really interrupting me. I reach out for a cup and to the water filter, placing the cup under the tap and am on hold for the cup to be filled.

{FLASHBACK ON}

We were right in there and she seemed about to protest when I practically stopped rubbing her clit to penetrate her with a finger. Knowing my way around it, I slid it in the way one can continue to stimulate the C-spot from the vaginal 'roof' (aka g-spot area), from the inside. She had been holding her breath until she reached for some air inhalation followed by a sweet, long and deep moan. My breathing was heavy as well. The sight of her breasts, the feeling of having her on my hands and against my body; the sound of her breathing, sighing and moans fueled me better than gasoline and fire. I had slid another finger inside her to cover more nerves and double the contact area, starting to come and go vigorously, yet slowly, checking on her responses.

{FLASHBACK OFF}

"Hey, watch out!" I break from another flashback to find myself in the kitchen, holding a cup in...

"Oh, dammit!" Thinking about it took longer than filling up the cup so, as a consequence, there was now water everywhere, including the cup, the stand where the filter was at, the floor, my shoes and pants. Adam, who had brought me back from dreamland, had already gotten some towels to help cleaning up that mess. "At least it's water!" I say laughing a bit as he does the same – we know we can be very clumsy. He makes a joke and I ask him to take the water to Sandy so I can go to the bathroom to better assess the need of changing clothes.

Upon reaching my destination I can, under proper lighting, acknowledge that my shoes were slightly wet when I thought they might had been soaked. The gray pants I was wearing were actually pretty dry except for a spot located between the crotch and the fly – but it was water, so there would be no stain. I rub a towel over it to remove any excess of water and leave that place, heading to the festive living room when I see her.

I gulp, taking a hand to straighten my hair and the other one to a pocket. Everyone is greeting her, sharing kisses, hugs and smiles. Asking her how did the travel go, if the flight was ok, if she had any plans for the following week. She definitely changed her outfit, from the shorts and top to a dark dress and different accessories. How could she have put all of that together in less than 30 minutes? I couldn't know. I was more interested in knowing when could I take them off.

Again: how much has passed by? I haven't ever been one of those people who have an inner gut who lets them be a bit precise with time... or with distance measuring... or architecture/three-dimensional thinking... Whatever, my point here is that some time has passed by without me noticing it. The only thing I saw was she coming into my direction, to greet me after all.

"Congratulations on your new place. It looks nice!" She opens her arms for a hug, to which I respond by opening mine and proceed to physically greet her. "Got your pants wet already?" she whispers whilst on the embrace. I can't see her face but everyone else will be able to see mine, so I just keep a simple smile on and decide not to respond her provocative question until the hug is over and we get to share a look. The scorpio inside me wants to pin her up against the wall and have her right there... but let's thank the zodiac gods for libra being in charge here and caring to be courteous.

{FLASHBACK ON}

She lets whole amounts of air out from her mouth as I moved both fingers in and out, slowly but steady, working on her breast and biting her neck a bit. You can't know how the counterpart is going to respond or is feeling until you're given a sign, and for this particular moment the queue was her spreading of legs apart, allowing more space for my wrist to move and the fingers to rotate as they pick up some pace.

{FLASHBACK OFF}

"What are you drinking?" Irina asks me as she takes a seat beside on of the girls on the couch while Carl, Adam and I each sit opposite to them on some puffs meant to accommodate about that quantity of people who won't fit on the couches.

"Water, for now. Would you like some?" I reply to her dissatisfaction as she frowns her nose, making fun of my drink. She jokes around that I am probably recovering from a hangover, causing people and even me to laugh despite of not being true at all. I decide not to drink when I want to be 100% attentive and functional, and those are precisely some goals for the night. Expectations? Yeah, I try not to grow any, but I sometimes do not succeed.

Dinner doesn't take much longer to be served, so everybody is full and ready for la gringa's dessert before the clock hit 11pm. She has earned her nickname due to the time she spent away acquiring a new language – basically what everyone there would like to do, but only she had the guts to do so. As any good friendship needs to be tested – and perhaps spoiled – someone unveiled a box containing some board games and Pictionary was selected (along with the hardcore rule of only miming. No drawing, no sound, no pointing).

{FLASHBACK ON}

"Oh my!" she lets out as my wrist is joined by my arm to keep the pace up and the penetration steady despite of her own pelvic movements and vaginal squeezing. A higher pitched moan escapes her lips and attempt of muffling the sound, shortly followed by a second one – now successfully suppressed. She takes a hand to hold onto the marble shelf where the water filter stands just before her legs bend a little, and again. Do I have the means to hold her if she can't keep herself up?

I stop both of my hands against my will as I see no other better way. She turns around and blinks heavily, frowning her eyebrows and seemingly trying to put words together, probably refraining the urge to call me bad names. It's against all common sense and sex laws to stop the act unless its extremely necessary – and I made the call that, yeah, it was better to try a different setting than insist on the prior and maybe cause an accident. I pull out a chair from under the table and take a seat, and don't need to pull her to sit on my lap since she had gotten it already.

She holds my head between her hands as if she needed that to ensure the sharing of a kiss. Just like that her tongue sneaks into my mouth, already getting the 3rd gear on. I exasperate, taken aback, surprised with how intense that starts out, then realize I've got some catching up to do. While she takes her time to bite my lips and caress my breasts, I run my hands over her thighs, intensely rubbing them, up until meeting her waist and moving a hand to her crotch until the thumb knuckle is moisturized and greets her clitoris for more action time.

{FLASHBACK OFF}

The thing about Pictionary is that people generally get into silly fights over rules, over the amount of time or over how simpler the words could have been mimicked – which is the best kind of fight, because people mimic even more. As a result everyone was tired of laughing and about to leave at around 11:40, and that's when people started sharing their goodbyes. I don't know what I was expecting since I try not to feed anything that isn't clear or expressed, but I've got to admit it felt like a kick in the stomach when everyone decided to leave altogether – including her. Nice people as they were, everyone helped out to organize the dishes at the sink and put the trash away and, just before midnight, still on Saturday night.

I looked around and went over the couch to set the remotes and books straight at the coffee table, as they should be, and took some time to screen the area as if trying to spot anything anyone could have forgotten and left behind. Apparently these people are more organized than any folk I had met before – if you ignored the sink and a visible bottle of wine, no one could have said a party had been hosted there.

I get to the bottle of white wine, which is nearly but not totally empty, and analyze its label. By giving it a stir I am able to smell the fruity scent that comes from the drink and decide to taste it – a bit tangy and dry. The last characteristic, I remind myself, is precisely why I do prefer scotch. I hit it again, bottom's up, guzzling what's left in there while making my way towards the kitchen and the trashcan. That's when I hear my cellphone buzzing on top of the counter next to the sink. I take a deep breath at the persistent flashing light and reach out the device to find a well-spirited message: "Hope your yawning was boredom, not tiredness". I smile and place it on my pocket, washing my hands, reaching out for the towel to dry them and straighten my hair. The sender was unknown, but couldn't I know who sent it?