I Know Where Your Tongue Has Been

I sensed the laugh build up in the two men's throats and avoided looking at Carmen and Jimmy, afraid of losing my audacity at their surprised, scared or snickering faces. The blond guy began to chuckle and speak, but I couldn't hear him as I turned towards her and everything and everyone else vanished.

It probably took a tenth of a second, for me to grab her face and plunge in for her kiss, but I saw it play in front of me, frame by frame. The yearning in her eyes, the twitch in her nose, the slight tremble in her lips as the gate between them opened and her defenses collapsed.

She tasted of scotch, peanuts, and me. There was still a hint of my musky tang in her mouth and I couldn't help but moan as I realized that she hadn't brushed her teeth. At my momentary weakness, her tongue attacked me back, her hand snaked to my side, grabbing my buttocks to bring me closer. Our bodies molded, as my fingers danced between her hair and her cheeks while hers fondled me from behind. A million butterflies fluttered in my stomach, at the sheer joy of finally caressing, savoring and smelling her again. But that was nothing compared to the jubilation that gripped me when I heard her groan as I caught her tongue before it left my mouth, and dragged my teeth across it, then closed my lips on it and slurped slowly while letting it retreat, bit by bit.

When it finally left me, I opened my eyes and saw her gaping into mine with all the hunger and all the confusion that a woman's face could express. A simultaneous gasp escaped us, the imminence of the real world's reaction looming dangerously above us. I grabbed her hand and managed a half smile as a weak reassurance that things were going to be all right, once we stepped out of that hazy bubble. Then I forced myself to turn away.

The stillness of the four of them was priceless. She strongly squeezed my hand, probably scared of that silence and the disbelief her two friends were showing. The blond spoke first, with a short "Damn!" to express all of his amazement and arousal, then he and his friend turned away and left. I let her hand go and moved to sit back on my stool.

It was Jimmy who finally broke the silence, "Damn?! That was damn alright."

"That was hot," Carmen continued, her face flushed a deep red. "Hot," she repeated, letting the t slightly echo and hang in mid-air.

"Well, it did get rid of them, lose you two a bet and buy us free drinks, so I'm guessing it wasn't that bad," I joked to ease the tension and try to convince them of the innocence and insignificance of that kiss.

"Not that bad. Are you kidding me? If I didn't know any better, I'd completely believe that you two are together," Jimmy interjected.

The three of us chuckled, but she remained silent, failing to even feign a slight smirk. I looked at her, begging and praying that she wasn't angry at me. A minute later, she excused herself to the ladies room and called me on the phone.

"What was that?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Nothing, just a joke," I answered, knowing fully well that it was much more.

"Do you think that was a funny prank to play in front of my real friends and those two guys?"

She hung up, the hurt in her tone resonating in my ears, gripping my chest and lungs, making it impossible to breathe. I instantly ran after her, mentally smacking, punching and slapping myself. How stupid could I be, to think that it would be acceptable to toy with her emotions in public like that? For heaven's sake, I had only known the woman for a few days, and here I was making a fool out of myself and an idiot out of her in front of friends she had known for years!

I opened the door to see her leaning on the opposite wall, heaving with anger, tears beginning to fill her eyes. I ran to her, trying to hug her, but she stopped me.

"Don't. Just don't."

"It was a joke, believe me, it was just a joke, a game."

"You ... No ... My friends," she stuttered as I inwardly kicked myself again and again.

"I know. Now I know how stupid that was. But I wasn't thinking. It just sounded fun. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it." I grabbed her chin and raised her face to look at me. I saw a glimmer of hope since she was no longer tearing up. "I'm sorry," I repeated. "I wish I could take it back. I wouldn't do it."

"Yes you would," she replied with a lot of subtext in her voice, "and you'd enjoy it just as much."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Never mind," she said dismissively. Her respiration was calming down.

"Tell me that it's OK," I begged. "Tell me that I didn't just ruin our friendship."

"I've known you for three days and you already consider me a friend?" she snickered.

"Forget the days, I know that there's a connection, an affinity between us that you can't measure up in time. We are friends."

"Just that? Just friends?" she questioned, with doubt and cynicism on her face.

"Yeah, just that."

"I can't be more. You know that. You need to know that. I'm not..."

"Neither am I," I affirmed with as much fake honesty as I could muster. I had never considered it earlier in my life, but the last three days with her were dismantling all my previous certainties about myself and scattering them on the floor, one by one. "You of all people should know. I couldn't sign the contract or work with him unless I was straight."

"Right," she conceded, a faint reassurance coming back to her and starting to erase the distrust.

"So, are we OK?"

"Yes, we are," she finally let out.

I leaned in and gently kissed her forehead, thanking her. Her arms wrapped around me and hugged me tightly. That shared moment of tenderness snaked through my heart and I found myself at peace for the first time in years. I battled the urge to hug her back and managed not to, for fear of confusing her, and myself, again.

"That was hilarious though," she chuckled in my ear, while slowly loosening her grip. "You saw how the blond one was looking at us, afterwards? He was so excited and bothered."

"Damn!" I imitated him, making her giggle. "And his friend was so stunned he kept gaping at us and didn't say a word."

"It was good. And with the free drinks, I'd say it was worth it."

I sighed in relief at her last words. "Come on, let's go back before they start wondering what we're doing in here."

"Wait," she held my hand, "as long as you started this, we might as well go with it."

She grabbed my hair and jumbled it, then picked a few of her own strands that were held back and pulled them out. She proceeded to unbutton her blouse and let the collar hang down, revealing more of her white bust than was socially acceptable. She tucked a part of the blouse out of her jeans and ruffled it.

"What are you waiting for?" she stared at me. I was starting to understand yet wondering if I had it right. Wasn't she furiously offended by the idea, two minutes earlier? How did she go from that to wanting to continue the game?

She brought me closer and lifted my top's left shoulder strap to glide it down my upper arm, then slid my skirt downwards a couple of inches. I felt cheated, looking at her meticulously undressing me. It wasn't the first time she had taken my clothes off and it wouldn't be the last, but it was the first away from any spectators, and still, she was doing it to please some strangers. I yearned for a time where she would do it for my eyes only, and not someone else's. For a time where she would honestly gasp at my naked figure and genuinely writhe at my first contact.

"Here," she finally said, quite pleased with herself. "How long have we been in here?"

"Five, six minutes," I answered while slowly trying to pull myself together.

"Too short?" she asked, doubtingly.

"Yes."

"Ok then, let's stay a bit more."

We leaned together on the wall, in silence. Suddenly, she chuckled again and I couldn't help but contagiously join her. We stayed there for another five minutes, the giggles slowly fading away, leaving me to struggle with every muscle in my body that longed for her and every salacious thought that secretly roared in my mind.

I couldn't understand why I desired a woman so badly, and why her of all people, a woman I met at a job. I had already worked with nine others, before her, yet none of them felt that way, none of them disturbed my emotions so much. None of them left me confused, still craving them even after a full day's work. She was the first. The first to make me regret having burned the steps, to make me want to go back to the start and enjoy slowly meeting her, getting to know her, desiring her, and then eventually possessing her.

"Come on, this should be fun," she grabbed my hand and led me out of my dark thoughts and the ladies room.

Once we reached an area where the two men could spot us from their booth, I saw them staring and whispered, "quick, pretend you're rearranging your clothes." We both did, and I moved on, perplexed between the satisfaction from the men's aroused stare and the sadness of knowing none of our act was real.

"Oh my God! What..." Jimmy started yelling when he saw us approach.

"Shush," she stopped him. "We're just making the lie more believable."

"If we were really together, after that kiss, they would expect us to take it further, right? Hence, all of this," I added, frantically gesturing to our disheveled looks, and making Carmen and Jimmy laugh.

She ordered another glass of scotch, downed it in one take, and just as I was going through my second consecutive vodka shot, she got up and pulled me to my feet. "Come on, let's show them how grinding to a song works," she declared suggestively. "What? Can't a woman dance with her girlfriend in peace?" she snickered at the baffled expression on her friends' faces. "It's not every day that I get to be a lesbian and I plan on making the most of it."

I followed her, hand in hand, to the dance floor, my breathing weak in anticipation of the minutes ahead, my limbs almost failing me, my flesh quivering at the prospect of touching her again. She could have led me anywhere and I would have followed, just for a chance to keep her hand in mine longer and feel her warmth spread through my chest, like a secret vow from my heart to beat for no one but her.

Still, I struggled to control myself, afraid of enjoying her too much and then being thrown away when she reaches her goal of seducing the two men, terrified of feeling like the wrapping of a chocolate bar, good as long as it hides the sweets inside, but useless once unwrapped.

And yet, she was making it impossible not to let myself go at the illusion that she only belonged to me at that moment. To say that she threw herself at me would be an understatement. No, she didn't just dance with me, she didn't just mold her body with mine, she didn't just hold my hips and sway seductively at every beat, she didn't just turn around and smash her backside to me while throwing her head back on my shoulder. She did all of those, while never taking her eyes off me, not even to glance at the two men.

Soon, I had forgotten my reticence and joined her in the pure ecstasy of the melody and our movements. I let myself treasure those minutes, enjoy every second that I was the sole possessor of her body and eyes. My hands started roaming closer to her femininity when she had her back to me, and just as I was about to touch her, she placed her hand on top of mine, stopped it and spun to face me.

"That's a bit too far." I blushed and began apologizing, but she asked, "are they still looking?"

I lyingly nodded because I couldn't bring myself to look in their direction to check. My eyes were mesmerized by her and her only. She raised my hands and placed them near her breasts, "it's OK, here it's OK."

I noticed she had left my hands there, free to play with her rounded wonders and hate the fabric that separated them from her bare skin. Did she just give me a green light to fondle her chest in public?

She brought her hands to my hips and pulled me closer, somehow managing to place herself on top of my right thigh, then began sliding higher and lower with the melody, rubbing on me. Her breathing quickened, she moaned a few times, her skin glistened with more sweat under the low lights, her eyes fixed mine but seemed lost in a vision beyond. A minute later, her head dropped on my right shoulder and she bit me as I felt a shudder course through her body. I almost stopped in surprise. Was that a climax?

She slightly raised her head to whisper in my ear, "I'm sorry, I just... needed this."

As the realization that she had just ruptured in public in my arms hit me, I grew happy and immensely empowered, to have been the one who brought her that pleasure. I lovingly kissed the back of her neck.

"I can't believe I just did this, with you, here. We barely know each other," she continued while still nuzzled in, probably scared of backing away and having to face me.

I kissed her neck again and wondered what to say to show her that it was fine by me, that she shouldn't be ashamed of what just happened.

"Oh don't say that, we sure are not strangers. I know where your tongue has been," I finally joked and felt her torso contract in a laugh.

---

"Honey, stop your tongue."

I jolted, as if someone had poured ten thousand ice cubes on me while I was lying naked in scorching heat. However, unlike the ice cubes, there was nothing enjoyable about that voice and it brought everything but relief.

My eyes fluttered open, roamed, and in the blurriness of the vision ahead, stopped on a face staring back at me. I couldn't tell if it was male or female, the traits were all mixed up, the hair tousled, the forehead sweaty, the expression painful, but what petrified me was the look in the eyes. It was the kind you wouldn't want to see scrutinizing you in any circumstance. Murderous. I tried not to react as I heavily breathed in while a hand crept up from its neck to cover its cheek.

For a brief moment, I didn't understand. I could feel a hand on my face too. The female scent emanating from the fingers was directly heading to my nostrils, too raw, too wonderful, and way too perfect for my brain's gears to still be spinning. I beamed in approval of the aroma. It smiled too. Then it registered. That face glaring at me? It was my own reflection on the big screen.

I stared at the hand covering my cheek in it. The fingers lied gracefully on my skin, as if they knew the exact curvature, as if they had done this countless times before, as if it was a natural place for them to linger. Then I looked down, following the path from those wonderful digits, through the arm, to the neck and finally the face. Her face.

"Darling, can you hear me? Is everything OK?" Karl asked again while approaching us, invading the beautiful sight in front of me with his big black camera.

She finally stopped and winced, looking up at me, with an annoyed expression. Then she took back her tongue from within. It wasn't the loss of the sensation or the void it left in me afterwards that destroyed me, but the fact that she spoke. That tongue, that vibrating titillating red muscle, was meant for far more incredible things than the ephemeral act of speaking.

"I think she's just tired," she replied, and as she closed her jaws, I found myself staring at them, envying her teeth for being able to keep contact with her lips and tongue all day long. What is it they say? No one appreciates what they have until it's gone? Yeah, that. The full meaning of that saying virtually punched me as I kept examining her and thinking that I knew exactly where her tongue had been a few seconds ago and where I desperately needed it to be, right then.

"Darling," Karl looked at me again, "if you need a break, please take it, because you're wasting our time."

"I'm OK," I replied, my voice hoarse from the dryness of my mouth.

"Alright then, but we can't work with this face of yours. It's switching between blank, pained and annoyed. I know this sweet little thing here isn't exactly your cup of tea," he briefly pointed at her, "but I need you to look like you're enjoying it."

He was almost right. I was annoyed and in pain, but the reason wasn't that I preferred a male lover to this new female coworker. Quite the contrary, I was enjoying her a bit too much and struggling to stay in control of my body and emotions since the job's rules clearly stipulated that this was all acting, forbidding any real pleasure. That was how Karl kept things professional, and why he only hired straight women to do erotic lesbian photography.

However, she was making it hard, nay, impossible to stay professional. The contrast between the sweetness of her eyes and wickedness of her tongue, the eagerness to please, the smoothness of her skin, the toxic aroma of her arousal, the intuitiveness of her moves and touches, everything about her was pushing me over the edge. I breathed out, I had to claim back some conceded territory over my instincts. After all, I had only met this woman the day before. There was no way she could have this much impact over me.

"I will. I'll look like I'm enjoying it," I answered, thinking that pure masochism was probably more delightful than having to endure this again.

"Alright then Darling." He turned towards her and continued, "Honey, raise yourself again and let's try going down a bit later."

I rolled her hair around my fingers and was about to pull her head back to me when I noticed her grin deviously after Karl asked another question that I was surely all too busy to hear.

"Oh, I've never done that but I'll try," she answered. Wait, was she talking about me? Did Karl ask her to do something with me? I looked, terrified, at her. Her smile widened and for a brief second, her mind was so lucid to me, I could easily read her thought flashing in her brain, "you know where my tongue will be."

"OK, don't worry if you can't do it, it just has to look like you are," Karl then took a few steps back and repositioned with his camera.

I was still staring down at her, my fingers in her hair, her head so close to my aching intimacy, her hand reaching up to cover my cheek, and her eyes boring into mine, trying to apologize for getting me so close without giving me a release. Her tongue darted out one more time, to my fluttering depths. I lost control again and gasped.

"One touch, one touch," my mind kept thinking, like a broken record. "Please. Just one." The words echoed in the hollowness of my head, unable to find a way to escape to the open. So incredibly close. So unbelievably bothered.

However, instead of that touch, the tongue started sweeping higher in one continuous lick, through my lower abdomen and the hundreds of erogenous spots in my navel, then my higher abdomen and tickling all the little freckles right in the middle of my chest. I desperately wished for her to move to either side, and when she didn't, I thought I would die. But she brought me to heaven when she reached that wonderful female hollow spot right below the neck, the suprasternal notch, that Almasy so aptly fantasizes about in "The English Patient".

And down to earth again I crawled when she left the notch and raised higher to my neck and chin until she stopped on my lower lip. Her body had followed her and was clinging onto mine thanks to the mix of sweat, and other fluids, gracing our skins.

She circled my lower lip a few times with her tongue, then her mouth came and trapped me in the middle. As she kissed me, the mixed trail of my arousal and her saliva that she had left on my skin while moving up acted like a short-circuit between my brain and my innermost elements. The heightened sensations coursed up and down through it like on an open highway of exposed skin and vulnerable nerve ends.

Her hand caressed my arm in a downward motion, then she snaked it between us. I couldn't restrain myself anymore nor lay inactive as she toyed with every part of my being. I bit her tongue and was about to grab and flip her but she somehow managed to immobilize me again while her hand found its way into my secret sanctum. She bit me back just as her finger pressed the pleasure switch within me. I writhed, I pleaded, I glanced at myself again on the big screen and found my expression had darkened even more.