Firestarter

He watched the smile slowly, her lips stretching out and open and her tongue gingerly licking the white smear. "I told you whipped cream was a good thing." cracking a smile of his own, "a little more to the left now sweetie, you're missing a spot. A lot of spots actually" laughing and leaning into press a kiss to her cheek. They lay against each other, giggling as they kissed, savoring the wet taste of the cream slurped down their tongues. After a while, she broke away and pulled out from underneath him. Propping her head up against a silky eggshell white pillow, she sighed softly. He watched her intently, his eyes roaming over her body. Taking it all in, devouring her with vision.

She trembled nervously, "I hate it when you look at me like that. You're like a peeping tom, but I'm right here for you to look at all the time."

"Oh..." flustered and blushing a bright pink "no...It's not like that at all. Its just whenever I look at you, I feel like I'm dreaming and I can't look away because every instant I waste not staring is one moment closer to the end of the dream, and you vanishing---- what are you laughing at?! I'm serious!"

"I know..." covering her mouth with a small tender looking hand. "That's what's so funny." the giggles escaped again, twittering out past her fingers.

"I'm just trying to say you're beautiful and I don't' deserve you. Can't a boyfriend woo his sweetheart?"

"Oh sure he can, and you do. All the time." smirking "You are right about another thing..."

"What's that honey?"

"What's that honey?" she mimicked, batting her over-long eyelashes. "You don't deserve me. I'm too pretty. I'm too sweet, too sexy, too much of a darling southern belle. Look at these hips" wiggling them "Perfect. Theses eyes" fluttering the lids open and closed "Perfect. These breasts." cupping them. "Perfect."

"Oh yes! I do believe we have a winner for the most humble girl in America."

"Not to mention the prettiest." They stared at each other, the tension building behind lightly gilded smiles. "I need a cigarette" she declared, leaning over and beginning to dig into her purse.

On a whim, he smacked her butt with the gentlest of whacks. Then squeezed his fingers, tugging at her soft milky skin and lightly fingering the tear shaped birthmark on her skin. Perfect, eh? He thought, tugging her legs apart and playing a merry beat upon her cheeks.

"Do you *have* to molest me *every* time I bend over?" finally finding the baby-blue carton with "Scarlet" emblazoned on it. Scarlet--their ad campaign ran "It's not the look. It's not the name. It's the taste." She kicked lightly back catching him at the shoulder. Curling against herself, she delicately pulled a white tube out of the carton. Pressing it between her lips, the flame flickered out of her lighter and she inhaled deeply.

"Do you *have* to smoke?" he sighed, leaning back; already resigning himself to hearing her usual answer.

"Yes, of course I do."

"Can you at least not do it tonight? I want you to live till dawn at least."

"Hmmm... and after dawn I'm no good to you. Hmmm.... what if I don't sleep with you." It wasn't a question.

That possibility was dismal. He contemplated it. What if she doesn't sleep with me? How could she not? Its prom night for goodness sakes. I've been sweet talking her for the past hour. She's naked. I'm naked. We're sitting in a nice hotel room with silk sheets....and she's on the pill. How could she not sleep with me?

"...you could screw it up at anytime..." lost in thought, he hadn't realized she'd still been talking. Looking up now, he was pleased to see her smiling. Her finger hooked out, dangling forward and baiting him to her.

He crawled over her, spreading her around him and lowering his lips to hers. Her lips parted and silver to grey smoke poured out. He jerked up as she giggled.

"That was mean." he said simply, turning his back; knowing she was taking heavy hits off the cigarette behind his back.

"I know. I'm an evil evil person. Completely undeserving of any sort of pleasure" her voice came from just behind his left ear. Her tongue licked his neck, and then she kissed him....running her lips down across the arch of his shoulders. Her fingers spread over his back, massaging his thick muscles together, scrunching them against her smooth cool skin. His eyes looked upwards and counted the cracks on the ceiling. Forty-seven so far. It couldn't have been wear and tear; it must've been a design choice--some kind of new-age painting style. Her head brushed past his waist; her flame-red hair catching his eye.

"Sweetie---what are---?" his voice breaking into a gasp. It felt wet. It tingled. He relaxed, leaning backwards and resting his head on a pillow. Looking up again, he resumed his count. At crack number fifty-nine, his foot jerked wildly. "Oomph" he groaned.

"Told you I was perfect." flickering her tongue up and down. It danced a path across his swollen tip, playing in circles as she fixed her eyes on him. Her ice blue orbs melting and swimming as his vision lost focus. The blush burned like fire in his face and he resolved to keep looking down anyways. This was their first time for anything more meaningful than a make-out session. It was so rare to find a couple like them---one that didn't wait till marriage, or lose it in some random drunken encounter to each other or to someone else before they even met. They'd planned to do this from day one. Prom night, senior year, lose it to one another. And so far, he thought, it was going well.

His hand stroked through her tangled bangs. He moaned encouragement and watched her head begin to bob faster. Her tongue moving from gingerly teasing him to whipping quick circles around him, turning like a tornado, making wet slurping sounds. Her hands found his, and squeezed her fingers between his. She pulled off, her lips parted and wet; her face blushed concealing her freckles. When they kissed, she tasted like a cigarette, but he didn't care. Well, he cared---his brain jotted it down, but it was lost in the thousand other pleasures flushing through his mind.

"Oh gawd..." rubbing herself against him. She leaned him back as they kissed. Her nipples pressed out, so hot and hard like they were about to pop off her breasts. They tingled as she squirmed. The tingling made her squirm all the more, grinding the button-tips of her breasts against his chest. Her breasts mashed against him, and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling herself even tighter to him.

"I'm glad we waited... "She mumbled between kisses. Glad was an understatement, she was ecstatic. Reaching down, she tugged at his shaft and glided it against her. Her wet lips parted easily, swelling as they took him in. She trembled, clenching, her body tugging at his.

He looked down and saw her juices drip deliriously slow down his shaft. Felt everything quicken. She slammed down. Pushing hard. He jerked; spamming up. She did the same. He'd heard about this. Read about it. And wished it to happen, but never thought it really would be. It felt like they were becoming one. Joined at the hip, they grinded against each other. Eyes closing, all that was left was the feeling. A heat, rushing through their veins, spreading across their skin, tingling as it teased lines over and under, in and out.

Her back arched wildly, and she screamed a long lazy moan then yelped out several quick insistent gasps. Wow, she thought, mother always told me to wait till I found someone I could share this with. Someone who would understand and not be afraid when it was happening. Someone who'd be gentle and let me..... What a strange thing to think about my mother while I'm here with my boyfriend. I really am weird.

She floated in disconnect; watching herself thrash on top of him. Her body tossed up as he thrust; her back twisting into a model arch that any roman architect would be proud to copy in form. It felt like she was melting. Anvil strikes inside her, turning her molten hot, soldering her. Her hands clenched in his and she felt something snap inside her. Not her hymen... no that was long gone. The heat inside her had built to a crescent and now.... her eyes fluttered and she slipped into black and felt no more.

Her fingers scraped against his palms. He felt her long finger nails digging against his skin as she clenched her hands inside his. This was it. He tensed up, feeling her do the same. In his delirium, he imagined the cracks on the ceiling wiggling free and swirling together in tartaric delight.

He spurted. She clenched. And the room burst into flame. Her hair fluttered back from the heat. Her red locks waved like hydras behind her head.

"Oh... my... honey? Honey!" Feeling her go suddenly, shockingly limp against him. He cradled her in his arms, tossing her legs over one arm and nestling her head against his shoulder. How did this happen? Was it an electrical short? The cigarette? He was almost sure that she put it out before clambering on top of him. Either ways, it couldn't have been the cigarette because the flame bloomed from every available surface. What was this? A bomb? No time to think about these things... the fire was taking over the room, and the next thing it consumed might be human flesh.

Pulling her more closely against him, he steadied his grip and edged towards the edge of the bed, consciously avoiding the bursts of flames from the roasting night-stand. The bed exploded into flames an instant after he was off it. He ran, reaching the door and opening it. Running out as the roar of fire filled his ears, the inferno sucking the breath out of his lungs.

The door slammed shut behind him, closed by the whooshing currents of air pulled by the hungry flames. He kept running... down the stairs... through the emergency doors. All the while with the sound of alarms buzzing. It seemed like the fire was chasing him, leaping from each wooden framed door to another. It never caught up to him, but the sight of blue, orange and red tongues crackling would always be with him.

It wasn't until afterwards till he realized why. After he got out of the building. After he turned away from the 17 story pillar of fire that was formerly the down-town Hilton and when he finally released his tight grip upon his girlfriend and set her on the wet grass.

After all that, he noticed. He didn't feel her moving, but it looked like her body was wiggling. A mirage, sheaves of air split and tore apart in front of him. Her naked body, with its pink skin, seemed to twinkle. He felt hot; hotter every instant. The grass, once wet, felt dry. A flame flickered next to his hand and he slapped it down, singing his palm. Slapping down another one as it popped into existence. Then hitting another one and then another....

"Ohhhhhh" she moaned, her body seizing up and coughing. The little fires around him, winked out.

"What are you?" his voice whispered out, trembling in the now lukewarm night air.

There was something wrong with that girl; Something terribly wrong.

Of that he was sure.