Orchid Ch. 01

Weds. 4:50 pm
Still with me?

Weds. 4:50 pm
Yes! Yes, I'm here
Had to find a mirror to see if my skin was glowing

Weds. 4:51 pm
Are you radioactive? Should I be worried?

Weds. 4:52 pm
From blushing!
Goober!

Weds. 4:52 pm
Oh!

Weds. 4:52 pm
I'm really sorry about that
I was so turned on, which is really a compliment to you, that
I just started talking without thinking, which is kind of a
problem for me sometimes. Which, yanno, because: you
Can I start over?

Weds. 4:53 pm
Sure

Weds. 4:54 pm
Hi!

Weds. 4:54 pm
Hi!

Weds. 4:54 pm
I had a really great time on Saturday
Like a *really* great time

Weds. 4:55 pm
I did too!
I'm so glad!
Are you free this weekend? I would really like to see
you again.

Weds. 4:57 pm
I thought you were never going to ask!
Yes!

Weds. 4:59 pm
Ok great!
I've got a class starting in a minute, but how about this
Friday? Maybe 8?

Weds. 5:02 pm
Sounds great!
Friday at 8!

Weds. 9:07 pm
So you fantasized about me?

Weds. 10:10 pm
Hang on
I'm just going to microwave this burrito with my cheek
I can't believe I told you that

Weds. 10:27 pm
What did you fantasize about?

Weds. 10:29 pm
Hang on. I'm about to get on the train

Weds. 10:30 pm
So?

Weds. 10:30 pm
So there's people all around me!

Weds. 10:31 pm
So?

Weds. 10:34 pm
Did I lose you?

Weds. 10:34 pm
I'm here

Weds. 10:34 pm
Do you not want to talk about it?
It's ok if you don't. I didn't mean to push.

Weds. 10:34 pm
It means a lot that you said that

Weds. 10:36 pm
It started with some pretty standard "Meet me after
class" stuff. You'd tell me that you've noticed me
staring. For me, at the time, 'being seen' was a really
big deal. Like I was trying hard to blend in, and to
have you see through that was really powerful

Weds. 10:39 pm
You were curious about me. That was how it usually
started. Sometimes you'd take me back to your office.
Sometimes you'd make me strip right there in class,
after everyone else was gone. Most of the time, you'd
fuck me bent over a desk or something, but if I was really
turned on, you'd fuck me face to face

Weds. 10:44 pm
After a while, and especially after that semester was over,
the locations shifted. You'd visit me at work and we'd fuck
on my break in the bathroom. You'd come into my
bedroom at night, we'd fuck

Weds. 10:45 pm
I'd see you on the train, and we'd fuck

Weds. 10:47 pm
I am curious about you.

Weds. 10:47 pm
Fuck!

Weds. 10:48 pm
Are you still on the train?

Weds. 10:48 pm
Yes

Weds. 10:48 pm
If I told you to touch yourself, right now, would you
do that?

Weds. 10:49 pm
Fuck!

Weds. 10:49 pm
Touch yourself.

Weds. 10:49 pm
Fuck!

Weds. 10:52 pm
I moved
I'm at the end of the car, and I've got my leg up against one
of the poles to block the view. I have my hand down my
pants while I

Weds. 10:52 pm
Shit. while i Type with one hand

Weds. 10:53 pm
I've never met anyone like you.

Weds. 10:54 pm
Fuck!
I am *so* hard right now. You have no idea
My exit is coming up
I'll be thinking of you when I get home, Daddy

Weds. 10:54 pm
Good night, Babygirl.

Thurs. 9:47 pm
Hey!

Thurs. 9:47 pm
Hey!
Are we still on for tomorrow?

Thurs. 9:49 pm
Absolutely!

Thurs. 9:49 pm
Whew!
I was worried for a second when I saw it was from you

Thurs. 9:51 pm
Actually, I had a question. If you don't mind.

Thurs. 9:51 pm
Shoot!

Thurs. 9:52 pm
When you would fantasize about me, and about getting fucked by me, did it involve your penis?

Thurs. 9:55 pm
I'm not sure how to answer that
Do you mean 'did I see myself as being post-op', or
'was my penis present?', or do you mean 'did I ever fuck
you?'

Thurs. 9:57 pm
The last two are close. I'm asking if I interacted with it.

Thurs. 9:58 pm
Your penis, I mean.

Thurs. 10:01 pm
Sometimes. It varied
No, I never fucked you, but you would often grab the shaft
Especially if we were fucking face to face

Thurs. 10:03 pm
I just grabbed it? I didn't... jerk you off as well?

Thurs. 10:03 pm|
Fuck!
You always made me cum, Daddy
Sometimes you did it forcefully, bending me over and
fucking me hard. Sometimes you did it tenderly,
stroking me while you were inside of me.
It usually had more to do with the kind of day I
was having, if that makes sense

Thurs. 10:10 pm
Have you ever fucked someone?

Thurs. 10:11 pm
Yes

Thurs. 10:13 pm
Do you enjoy it?

Thurs. 10:15 pm
Yes
It's different than being fucked

Thurs. 10:15 pm
Better, worse, or just different?

Thurs. 10:18 pm
Just different

Thurs. 10:20 pm
I'm not asking because I'm in any way unhappy with
the things we've been talking about.
I'm asking because I care.

Thurs. 10:25 pm
I'm a little scared right now that I was right about you

Thurs. 10:25 pm
About what?

Thurs. 10:26 pm
That you're a really good guy

Thurs. 10:34 pm
Thank you.

Thurs. 10:35 pm
No. Thank you
Tomorrow?

Thurs. 10:35 pm
Tomorrow.

***

I take a few seconds to nitpick at how the one-piece red dress is sitting on my frame before moving past the coat check. Nervous butterflies. It feels like years of practice have lead up to this moment. Interminable vocal coaching. Forever spent learning to walk in heels. Years spent quietly watching other women and adopting mannerisms, postures, and body language. A lifetime watching makeup tutorials.

Somehow, none of this occurred to me on the first date. I was so focused on the fact that I was going to see him (The him!) that I'm surprised I was able to string two words together coherently. Calvin Ayers. Still gives me shivers.

Sometimes I wonder how conscious other women are of the time spent acquiring these skills.

"Kit!" he calls, surprising me more by his location near the bar than his volume. It's hard to keep myself from skipping across the room to see him. "You look fantastic!"

"Thank you!" I say, twisting and blushing. I try to think of a good way to return the favor, because he does look amazing, but the smell of him makes me lose my breath. In the best possible way. His charcoal gray suit, paired with a dark blue shirt, accentuates all the right parts of his shoulders and chest. The best part of it is how comfortable he looks looking so good, if that makes any sense. I lay my hand over my chest as I look him over head to toe, and murmur, "Oh..."

Calvin smiles, modestly nodding his head. "Thank you, I think," to which I nod emphatically. "Would you like to sit down?"

"Mmmhmm!" is all I can manage. He grabs my arm, gently but firmly, when I take a step toward the dining area, and shakes his head at my obvious confusion.

"No. This way."

"Okay," I whisper. He lets go of my bicep and wraps his around my shoulder, keeping me next to him as he shows me the way. It feels incredible to be so close to him. I keep having to fight down the thought that he's what I deserve after all the struggles I've been through. That feels too fated, and I've never really bought into the larger cosmic Karma system. Still, it is tempting to dream that I've earned this man.

Calvin leads me past the bar and down a hallway. Around a turn, through a door, and then another turn puts us in a fairly spacious room with a long table running through the middle of it.

I raise my hand, pointing indistinctly at the many chairs. "Will..."

"Don't worry," he says, his hand sliding down my back. "We'll be alone tonight."

"I was worried for a second," I say, laughing nervously.

"Not a chance." His hand drifts a little lower, pressing against the small of my back. "I want you all to myself."

Only a supreme effort of willpower keeps my knees from knocking, or otherwise collapsing, and it takes a few seconds before I feel confident enough to take a step.

"Do you like salmon?" he says, as he moves toward the end of the table. I nod, not trusting my voice to have any strength either. "They have a delightful salmon dish with a touch of lemon and parsley, and they-"

"Yes," I squeak, finally finding my voice.

He smiles and tilts his head. "You don't want to know what else is on the dish?"

"Actually," I say, taking careful steps, "what I want... is to... trust you." My eyes dart wildly across the floor, not quite rising up enough to meet his intense gaze. "Not all the time, and not with everything, but..."

"But sometimes."

I nod.

"I've never met anyone like you," he says softly, and that touches off a burst of red in my cheeks. "We're just getting to know each other, Kit. There will be some missteps."

I nod.

He stops, considering. Brow lowered. But instead of saying anything, he reaches over and pulls out my chair for me. Inwardly, there is an explosion of color and triumphant sound. Horns and choirs of angels.

"I'll try," he says, smiling as I sit down.

"Try is a beautiful word." He quirks his brow at me as he sits down diagonally from me. "Star Wars gave it a bad rap, but... I don't know. I think it's full of good intention."

"Intention," he says thoughtfully. "That's really important for you, huh."

I nod. Emphatically. "It means everything. Sometimes, it means more to me than the outcome."

"Really," he says, with an almost questioning tone.

"Mmmhmm! Try has a kind of experimental... experiential... vibe to it that I like, you know? It's like... growing as a person is a trial and error process, and success isn't guaranteed. It's the trying that matters."

"I can appreciate that." He holds my gaze for a moment, weighing a decision, and then reaches over to lay his hand over mine. "I'll be right back."

"Okay," I squeak. On the one hand, I hate that my voice keeps breaking when I try to talk to him, but at the same time I love how it exposes the way he makes me feel. More than that, I love the way he smiles whenever it happens. He gives my hand a quick squeeze before he strides out of the room, leaving me alone. I listen for the sound of his footsteps as he travels down the hall and back through a door.

It's only then that I notice the far wall, opposite the door behind me, is mirrored. Somehow it's easier to take in the beauty of the room when I'm looking at the reflection of it than it is to look around. Like it's easier to see if I dissociate the fact that I'm there. The table is a beautiful dark wood, and the chairs are an elegant match. The linens are a gorgeous pattern in a rich creme.

It's hard to feel like I belong near any of it.

The sound of his footsteps, down the hall, brings me back with a start. I turn, with my legs crossed to the side, and look back over my shoulder.

"Sorry about that," he says as he comes back in. He shuts the door behind himself and finally takes off his jacket. "Had to take care of something."

"It's okay." I bite my lip watching the way his shirt moves around his chest. The places where it gets tight when his arms move just so.

"So." He sits back down, relaxed but focused, and smiles at me. "Tell me something I don't know about you." One arm resting easily on the end of the table, while the other reaches back up to scratch at the tip of his chin.

"I... um..." I look around, floundering. "I... paint!"

"A poet and a painter?"

"Barely," I giggle nervously. "I don't have a very big apartment, but one whole corner of it is dedicated to my watercolors."

"Suddenly I wish I'd paid attention more in my art history classes," he laughs. "The best I can come up with is a fuzzy memory of... is it... Renoir?"

"Fuzzy is, actually, very right!"

"How do you like that?"

"He did whole landscapes and stuff. I usually just focus on one thing, and color it with how I'm feeling. I think what I do is probably considered 'impressionist', but that's attributing me way too much talent."

"Is it alright if I reserve judgement until I see one for myself?"

"Yes?" I squeak, and immediately bite my lip hard. "By which I also mean yes you can see them? Sometime?"

"Good," he says, and I shrink a little in my chair. He's undressing me with his eyes, and it's... it's forward, and it's confident, and it's so, so, so, so fucking sexy.

"My ex really liked them. She said I should paint more."

"She?"

I blush and nod. "I... date." His reaction is a weighing one. Considering. I can't stop myself from blushing more.

"I want to try something," he says abruptly. "Would you-"

"Yes," I interrupt, nodding quickly. His smile widens considerably.

"You are..." He trails off and just stares at me for a moment, and then he's up and out of his chair. He walks behind me and pulls two of the chairs next to me away from the table. Then he comes back to me, takes my hand in his, and pulls back on my chair. At first his grip is light, but when I squeeze his hand for help standing, he squeezes right back. Matching me in the moment. Supporting and guiding without pulling or steering. Confident.

"Here," he says, as he leads me around to the empty spot and turns me so that my back is to the table. He pats the tabletop behind me and tilts his head, gesturing for me to sit, so I do. He steps back with a smile, gaze lingering on my crossed legs, thighs and calves, and pushes each chair in just a little bit. Not quite boxing me in but enough so that the cushions are angled toward me. "Lean back."

I purse my lips, taking steadying breaths, as I plant both hands behind me on the table, and follow his instructions. He smiles a little wider every time my eyes dart back and forth between him and the door.

"One foot here," he says, reaching down to pat the seat of the chair on my right. I uncross my legs slowly, feeling much more heated with every second. "And one foot here." I do as he says, and my breath is coming much faster now. My knees are almost even with my shoulder, each a little wider and a little lower. While there isn't a lot of space between the chairs, there's enough for Calvin to step between them. Between my legs. I gasp when he places his hands delicately just above my knees.

I stare up at him, drinking in every second of his reaction, as his fingers slide along my thighs. He pushes when he reaches the bottom of my dress, sliding farther and farther. Exposing my black lace panties. He finally looks back up at me as his fingers peel back the sheer fabric, pulling it away and down until he can tuck it underneath my tender orbs.

"You're hard," he says.

"Yes, Daddy."

"Good. I want you to stay that way."

I nod when I find myself completely incapable of speech. He curls his fingers behind my right shoulder and slowly guides my arm, and then hand, forward, until my fingers curl around the base of the shaft.

"Just like that. Okay?"

"Okay," I croak.

"The only thing I want you to move is this hand," he says, brushing his fingers across the knuckles of my right hand. "Up and down."

"Up and down," I repeat, with very little volume, and move my hand slowly to show him I'm listening. God it feels good to touch myself for him. Again.

Calvin smiles and nods. "Just like that. A little faster or slower is fine, but just like that."

I whimper a little as he takes a few steps back and then turns.

"Up and down," he says again, as he reaches the door. My throat closes entirely as he opens it, blocking the view into the hall with his body while he leans to look both ways, and then slips out.

"Oh fuck," I whine. I can still make out his shadow under the very bottom of the door. Two black lines as he guards the entrance. Making me vulnerable and protecting me at the same time. I stroke faster, chest rising and falling rapidly.

And then those two black lines disappear to my left. I gasp, listening desperately to the sound of his footsteps as he goes down the hall. The far door opening, and then shutting a few seconds later.

"Holy fuck!" Exposed, literally left hanging with my dick in my hand, and I can't remember if I've ever been more turned on in my entire life. I keep trying to hold my breath to be quiet, but the throbbing pulse in my ears and my own steadily-increasing stroking are so much white noise.

The door opens and closes again. Footsteps. Hairs rise up on the back of my neck. A nervous tension I can't handle. Logically, I know it's probably Calvin and I'm trying to guess how hard the footfalls sound and compare that to my memory of how hard his feet fell and sweet jesus how many fucking steps are there between the doors and the mushroomed head is turning purple from squeezing and holy fuck the handle is holy fuck-

The door opens for a fraction of a second, enough for Calvin to slip through, and I scream. My knees come together as I curl in on myself, and the panic is just about blinding. For a second.

Calvin smiles as he shuts the door behind himself, and just stands there. As soon as my limbs are ready to respond, after some of the shock has passed, I stretch myself back out into the position he put me in. There are no words to convey how hot my skin is.

"Not bad."

"Thank you, Daddy." The final word, barely audible.

"Remember. Up and down."

I try to say 'Okay,' but my throat squeezes shut. I barely manage to nod as he turns and steps out the door again. Footsteps down the hall again. The door at the end of the hallway opens and shuts. Up and down. Up and down. I try to moderate my breathing. Four strokes breathing in, four strokes breathing out. The first bead of clear precum beads at the tip of my shaft, and spills down onto my index finger. Cool. Wet. Up and down. Up and down.