Summer Seduction

Author's Note: Well, here's my first contest submission. I hope you like it. Please don't forget to vote and as always, I welcome any and all comments. Happy reading! -MC

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Nearly every day, just about an hour before I get off of work, I can count on receiving a text message from my boyfriend, Matt. Sometimes they're sweet, sometimes they're naughty and often times they're incredibly private. He just wants me to know that he's thinking about me and can't wait to be with me. In fact, he's been so consistent that nearly all the women in my office await the sound of my message alert and pester me to tell them about them. When the texts are sweet, I share and revel in the jealousy. When it's the other kind of message, I just blush and let them use their imaginations.

As this trend developed, I let Matt know that his messages had become the office soap opera and he just laughed and said it was good for his PR. He offered to tone down the naughtier ones so that I could share all of the messages, but I let him know, in no uncertain terms (aka a really great blow job), that I wouldn't accept his censorship. I can't help it. The man has a perfect penis. Not that I'd be willing to share or anything, but I'm pretty sure even prudish girls who make scrunched up faces at that the thought of giving head would be unable to resist.

I used to have each of his texts saved in my phone, but then the inbox got full, so I just locked the four most important ones:

1) "I can't stop thinking about you. Call me when you get home." -- the day after our first date

2) "I hope your clit misses me as much as I miss it." -- My favorite of the naughty texts

3) "I really meant it. I can't imagine my life without you." -- the day after he told me that he thought he was falling in love with me

4) "I hate fighting with you. Let's talk tonight. I love you." -- three weeks ago, after I stormed out of his house, angry that he wasn't going to be able to attend my company's Fourth of July picnic.

I honestly thought that the messages were going to stop on the morning of that fight. I didn't deserve them. I knew that I wasn't being fair, but I just couldn't seem to stop myself from lashing out at him in my disappointment that my co-workers weren't going to be able to meet him. How was I supposed to remember that he and his 3 best friends from high school go to Vegas that weekend, every year? He'd only mentioned it once in passing when we'd first started dating!

On one hand, I loved him even more for being a man who honors his commitments, has a life outside of me and doesn't waver in his decisions just because I ask (or try to demand). On the other, I hated the fact that I wasn't going to get my way and my respect for his choice just made me that much more irritated with myself which I, in turn, took out on him. I'm afraid I threw a bit of a temper tantrum, calling him names and accusing him of not loving me. I'd finally stormed out because I just couldn't bring myself to admit how ridiculous I was being.

That day, I was a complete wreck. I called him three times to apologize but got his voicemail every time. By the time I'd gotten his text message, I'd already arranged to leave work early. I knew that if I didn't receive one, I'd need a drink and that if I did, I'd be speeding toward his house to attempt to make up for my poor behavior in every way that came to mind. I can only guess that I was able to make the depths of my contrition obvious because he stopped by my office before his trip and dutifully met his admirers.

"Wow," Karen mouthed to me as he walked away. I knew she was checking out my boyfriend's ass but I didn't hold it against her. She's my favorite co-worker.

This is not to say that he's perfect and that my moments of irrational behavior are the only blips in our relationship. I just happen to be really happy with him right now, as a result of last weekend and that sort of blocks out the little moments that don't matter as much.

Last Friday, I was having a truly terrible day. Matt had been out of town for a business trip, which meant I'd slept alone in the bed in my apartment which had long since stopped feeling like my bed. Somehow I managed to burn toast, causing billows of black smoke to fill the kitchen and set off the smoke detectors. By the time I managed to turn them off, my apartment smelled like an ashtray, though I'm proud to say that I quit smoking almost a year ago.

As if that start to my morning hadn't been bad enough, the air conditioning in my car went out on the way to work. The drive from my apartment takes a good forty minutes and by the time I got there, my hair was plastered to my head and my button-down shirt and pencil skirt were clinging to me at odd angles. I managed to straighten myself out in the women's restroom, but ended up running10 minutes late to a fairly important meeting.

I was flailing and I was beginning to feel a bit like a comic strip character, set up on purpose for the amusement of some bigger audience I couldn't see. I quickly sent an email to Matt describing the foibles of my day. He usually finds the humor in these types of events and shares it with me and I had the sense that what I really needed right now was the opportunity to laugh at myself. I didn't hear back from him, but I wasn't expecting to immediately, as I knew that he would be on a plane home.

The rest of the day seemed to drag on as I worked on

finishing a report.

"Fifteen minutes 'til the Matty Moment!" Alexis, a particularly over-interested coworker, broadcasted. She is the one responsible for coming up with the god awful nickname for my favorite time of day. I have Never called Matt "Matty". Ick. Nonetheless her declaration caused a flurry of activity as several women tried to get whatever they were working on to a viable stopping point.

These announcements always make me a little nervous though. What if Matt forgot to send me a message? What if, heaven forbid, he was busy or not feeling particularly creative? We'd been together about 6 months -- how long could he keep this up?

Fifteen long minutes later, the chorus of the song Love Stoned began to play and Annoying Alexis clapped her hands with glee. Matt added the song, as the alert for text messages from him, a few months ago and it makes me smile. Justin Timberlake might very well be the only man for whom I could ever leave Matt. I flipped open my phone casually, as if there weren't several pairs of eyes watching me and saw the animation of an opening envelope and Matt's name beneath it. I've come to adore this almost as much as the messages themselves.

"Summer heat -- boy and girl meet but oh oh the Summer Nights... Tell me more, tell me more: My house, 5:28. Do not go home, do Not pass GO, just meet me by the pool."

I've loved the movie Grease since I was a kid. Though I've only made him watch it with me once, he knows I usually watch it once a month or so and of course I have every line memorized. Also, Monopoly has always been my favorite board game, largely due to the fact that I've never lost, in twenty odd years of playing it. The fact that he knows me so well (and loves me anyway) had my stomach fluttering almost as much as the anticipation of tonight by the pool.

"Why 5:28?" asked Alexis as she read the message over my shoulder.

"That's exactly how long it takes for me to get to his house from our office," I answered, but in truth, I wasn't paying much attention, not even to the jealous glances I usually enjoy. My mind was well occupied with more entertaining visions of the way Matt's smile lights up his eyes or the way those same eyes darken in response to my touch. Umm umm umm, the things I could do (and have done) to that man.

"I wish I had a man who knew how long it took me to get from work to his house, let alone seduced me with cheesy lyrics from a musical," Jo from accounting sighed, "As it is, I'm lucky if Sam turns off Sports Center."

I listened as the other girls consoled themselves about the absence of romance in their relationships. For the sake of clarity, I feel compelled to point out that Matt is not Always romantic. He is just a man, for god's sake. However, who wants to focus on the mundane when you can spend time Google-ing Cosmo's latest articles about pleasing your man?

Finally, it was five o'clock and I waved goodbye to my co-workers as I practically ran out to my car. On the drive home, I had to roll down the windows to keep from suffocating in the Phoenix heat. I knew that by the time I got to Matt's house, I would look even worse than I did when I got to work that morning. I briefly contemplated stopping at my apartment first for a shower and reapplication of makeup, but that would've made me really late. Matt's message had been clear that he wanted me to come directly to him and since we'd been apart for almost a week, I was eager to see him. I supposed that if he fell out of love with me at the sight of smeared mascara and sweat stains, then it was his own darn fault.

I smiled as I walked up to the front porch. Matt had a glass of white wine sitting on the small wrought iron table I'd bought for him, to fit the open space. Next to it sat a bowl of grapes. He had to have just placed them outside before I got there because even the drops of water on them were still cold. I placed a few in my mouth and sighed as their cool juice splashed across my tongue.

Matt opened the door then and moved to stand behind me as I took a sip of the wine. Pushing aside the collar of my shirt, he leaned forward and kissed the hollow at the base of my neck.

"Oh, don't do that. I'm all sweaty," I complained, sure that no one in their right mind could find me attractive in such a state of disarray.

"You taste wonderful," Matt whispered, his hands on my shoulders, rubbing away tension I hadn't even known was there.

Abruptly he stopped and I laughed, calling him a tease.

"Hey, I can do this all day, but when you get turned on and try to seduce me on the front porch, Mrs. Krudski across the street will get a free show. Just drink your wine and follow me out to the pool, exhibitionist," he said, picking up the bowl of grapes.

The house was cool and I almost wanted to stay inside, but I could see through the sliding glass door that Matt had set up dinner out back. The smell of steak on the grill made my mouth water as I stepped out onto the back patio. He had music playing softly and candles on the table, despite the heat.

"I know how you get crabby when you don't eat. I figured we'd start with dinner," Matt said as he used a pair of tongs to take the meat off the grill.

A large bowl of spinach leaf salad with fresh strawberries and candied walnuts sat on the table just left of my chair. After taking off my heels, I took a seat and picked it up to serve both of us some.

"Uh, that rabbit stuff is just for you, babe. Me man. Man eat meat!" he said in a caveman impression that made me giggle. I love him even more because he's a dork -- like me.

We sat on the patio, eating dinner, drinking wine, talking about his recent trip and discussing plans for a future vacation to a vineyard in Northern California. When my favorite Norah Jones song came up in the playlist, he stood up and asked me to dance. I thought he meant on the patio, next to the table, but when I stood up and took his outstretched hand, he led me to the diving board. It was such a Matt gesture, sweet but silly and I'm sure he could feel my heart pounding as I laid my head on his chest and we swayed to the music. It might have been 110 degrees out but the heat had nothing on how he made me feel. It was definitely the sweetest dinner we'd ever shared.

"So how's your day going now that I've wined and dined you?" he asked, dodging as I attempted to playfully hit him for the cheesiness of the expression.

"Better. The food was excellent and I guess the company will do," I joked, tilting my head back so that I could see into his eyes.

The song ended and I pulled back with the intention of going inside to get more wine but the glistening water of the pool caught my eye and I suddenly had other ideas. Without pausing to give him warning, I pushed him backwards into the pool. Somehow, by sheer willpower, I think, I managed to escape his attempt to take me with him.

He surfaced and was about to climb out of the pool to exact revenge when I began unbuttoning my shirt.

"You know, my mother always told me not to swim on a full stomach," I said, unzipping my skirt, "but then, what does she know?"

Carefully balanced on the diving board, I removed my skirt and shirt, standing before him in just a bra and panties. Gone was the look of revenge, replaced with the gleam in his eyes that always makes my pulse race. Matt swam over to the bench in the pool and just watched me dance for a minute before I jumped in the water.

I moved closer to kiss him, and asked, "Aren't you going to join me, Mr. Willis? You're wearing an awful lot of clothing."

He pulled me into his lap and answered, "You think I'm going to risk missing your striptease for something as disinteresting as removing my own clothes? I'm sure you can help me with that in a minute. Right now, I'm much more concerned with helping you." His fingers slid their way underneath the straps of my bra, which followed his hands as he ran them over my shoulders and down my arms.

His arms reached around me and unfastened the bra, causing it to fall into the water between us. His fingers caressed my back as he pulled me closer to him, my breasts rubbing against the material of his t-shirt. Matt unhurriedly ran his fingers across my collarbone, my neck and up to hold my face as he gently kissed my jaw, cheeks and eyelids in that same slow, taunting way. The warmth of his fingers sent sparks flying through my entire body and I knew that I had never wanted this man more. He had gone out of his way to turn around my horrible day, simply because he could - because he loved me.

Cupping his hand, he scooped up some pool water and rubbed it across my chest, watching intently as if the trail of beaded water drops were the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. When he leaned forward and licked them up I lost all patience with his playfulness. I wanted to feel his body like he was feeling mine. Stopping his hands, I raised them in the air and lifted the heavy, soaking wet t-shirt up over his head. Leaning back into him, I kissed him sweetly, moving my lips gently over his, straddling his lap in the water and anchoring myself to his body with my thighs wrapped around his hips. The kiss picked up in intensity and my arms tightened around his neck as he stood, taking me with him and carrying me out of the pool.

"I love you," I whispered between kisses, too dazed by everything I felt for him to notice that he was carrying me inside to his bed until the freezing air inside hit my skin. "No, please. I don't want to be inside. I want you to make love to me out here, by the water, under the stars."

"You'd be more comfortable in my bed, baby." He smiled and I felt my heart thud again, at the tone he was speaking to me in and that he was concerned with my comfort despite the fact that his cock was hard and communicating a more pressing desire.

I didn't have to answer, he could tell from the look in my eyes that I didn't care. He put me down, saying he'd be right back and when he returned he had a sleeping bag and pillows in his hands.

"Perfect," I smiled, though in truth, as long as I got to continue touching him, I wouldn't have cared if we were on the moon.

In his absence, I'd been busy too. I'd removed the strawberries from the salad and grabbed the grapes. I spread out the sleeping bag while he finished removing his clothing and we sat next to each other, feeding each other fruit, kissing and touching, licking and fondling. Laying me back with my head on the pillows, he placed a strawberry on my stomach, playfully licking the skin around the fruit before eating it off. His hands crushed a few strawberries inside his palms and he spread the fruit along my calf, raising my leg, so it rested on his.

I began caressing his body with the fruit too only to lick it off seconds later - the two of us using our own bodies to worship the other's. His fingers, covering the width of my rib cage, mine rubbing his neck, back, shoulders -- anything I could reach from the position we found ourselves laying in. He kissed my kneecap and then the back of my knee, making his way up my thigh and once again the intensity began to race. The fruit was all but forgotten as he slid my panties off and rubbed his cheek against my inner thigh. His hand reached up to tilt my head so that our eyes met as at last his perfect penis was back in my favorite place for it to be.

I'm always wet for this man, but that night I was like a fountain. Between the complete connection I felt to him and the way that he treated my body like every single part of it was special, I couldn't help but be soaked. His weight on top of me, the way that he fit between my thighs, the way he kissed me as he stroked in and out of me, it all felt a little bit surreal, but then he would nibble on my lip or pinch my nipple and I was reminded very clearly of where I was and more importantly who I was with.

Sex between us had always been good, a lot of touching, laughing and playing but I don't know that I would have called it beautiful before, but that was the word I heard escaping my lips in between moans and gasps.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, his hands on my hips, holding them up so he could get deeper.

I clung to him when I came, harder but still somehow sweeter than usual. I never wanted to be apart from him or the way I felt more alive when his skin touched mine. I kissed him again and encouraged him to join me. I knew that he'd been holding back to make sure that I came first and I felt like I owed him.

"Don't look at me like that," he smiled, "I love the way your body feels when you cum around me."

With those words he began to thrust harder, my hips rose to meet him and it was only a minute before he whispered my name fiercely and at last collapsed on top of me. When he rolled to the side, I cuddled up to him, my arms around him, clasping him close to me. We kissed again in that contented way that can only follow really great sex.

"Wow, babe, if I'd known that quoting Grease and cooking for you would bring out your inner sex Goddess, I would have done that a long time ago," he joked, his hands stroking my back.

"I can't tell you all my secrets. I wouldn't want you to get bored with me."

"Not in a hundred years. You're mine and who else would put up with my bad jokes?"

Eventually we made it back inside. We spent most of the rest of the weekend in bed, watching movies (yes, Grease once, just Because) and enjoying each other's bodies. I say most, because he did go outside long enough to fix the air conditioner in my car. Apparently all it needed was extra Freon. By Monday morning when I had to return to my apartment to get ready for work, I was wishing that I'd never have to return to the lonely two-bedroom again.

When I got to work, I was met with a ton of teasing questions from my coworkers, which I dodged coyly. If I thought some of the text messages were too steamy, there was no way I could relate the details of my weekend. My toes still tingled in memory of Sunday morning's wakeup sex. I mostly got myself through the day daydreaming about Matt and anxiously awaiting his 4:00 text message.

"Fifteen minutes 'til the Matty Moment!" Alexis declared.

I just smiled. Matt might be mine, but in a way he's theirs too. I heard someone humming the chorus of Love Stoned as they walked by and I couldn't help it, I joined in. When it actually started playing on my phone, three more coworkers had joined us. If I was Love Stoned, they certainly had a contact buzz.