“Play with yourself, Ray.”

I whisper the words in your ear, softening my crude request. Blood rushes between my legs. I swell against you.

“I want to lick the taste of you off your fingers.”

Your giggle fades to a purr. The sound of it makes me harder.

I reach over your waist and grab your wrist. I raise it to my mouth and kiss your palm. I slip your finger between my lips, wrap my tongue around it and lick it. I suck one, then two. You purr some more and press your ass into my crotch. I groan into your neck, kissing your warm skin, flick my tongue around your ear, and nibble on it. I guide your fingers across your bare stomach and sneak them into your boxers. My fingers float across your skin and around your navel. Yours disappear between your soft thighs. I firmly caress your breast and gently pinch your nipple. You tremble and I throb. I pull you tighter against me, but it's not close enough.

“Damn, Ray. You drive me crazy. I want you so bad.”

I'm pleading you. I sink my teeth into your neck and breathe in your sweet scent. I feel the need to leave my mark. Make you mine. Your purring drifts off. You're someplace else. I can feel it. You're turning yourself on. You're turning me on. I feel your nipple firm between my fingertips. They circle your areola, then press into your supple flesh. I roll my eyes down your torso to your undulating hips. Your wrist waves beneath the boxers. You’ve slipped two fingers into your moist, swollen mound. Your pace quickens and you raise your hips as your enticing purr lowers itself to a wanton moan.

“Fuck, Ray. You're so hot. I love…“

“Hey.”

“I love…“

“Hey! Sleepyhead! Wake up!”

The pillow slaps me awake, ending my late afternoon delight.  I lower it to my chest and look up at Ray, dazed. She's got a smirk on her face. I catch her eyes as they leave my tented shorts. I quickly lower the pillow some more.

“…Fuckin’ A!”

“Taking a little nap? What were you dreaming about?”

“I was. Don't worry about it. What time is it?”

July’s been especially hot this year. Open windows allow the warm air to flow through the antiquated home’s three floors. With fans strategically placed, it makes the humidity bearable. This afternoon’s downpour came from out of nowhere. I remember darting between the rooms to shut the windows, then crashing on the couch to watch some TV.

“Almost five. Why do you have all the windows closed? It's like a sauna filled with old, fat men in here.”

By now my head has cleared. I’ve been forced to leave my ethereal goddess behind for the mortal beauty before me. I look Ray up and down. My dream lingers. She recognizes the hunger in my eyes. I'm afraid my smirk doesn't go unnoticed either.

“What are you looking at?”

“Huh? Nothing. Uh, it started to pour. Hard. I had to close all the windows. I must've fallen asleep. That's why they're still shut.”

She raises her expression of disapproval (disbelief? both?) to the bay windows behind me. The hazy sun covers the houses across the street with an amber glow. There's not a cloud in the sky.

“Well, they need to be opened. I gotta get out of these clothes. Are you doing anything special for dinner?”

“Right. Go change. Haven't really thought about it. You?”

“Dunno. I'm pretty beat, though. My day wasn't the greatest.”

I make quick work of straightening things up. I open the living room windows, plus the one in the hallway and the two in the kitchen. A lazy breeze roams through the house. I turn on the pedestal fan and set it to OSCILLATING. In no time, the room has cooled and fresh air breezes over the stale furniture. I decide on pizza and red wine for dinner. We'll stay in and argue about a movie, before we (I) decide on At Close Range. I'll explain there's more to eighties cinema than John Hughes and Harrison Ford.

When she fills the doorway for the second time that evening, I'm ready for her. The food's been ordered and two beers are sweating atop the wrinkled Vincenzo’s Pizzeria menu. She's smiling. A good start. Her hair is loosely tied back, revealing her sultry neck. She's replaced her sexy blouse with a sexier tee. It's roughly cut and its tattered edges curl. She’s slipped out of her sleek, dark skirt and into a pair of crepe-thin boxers that seductively hang off her hips. The sight of her exposed belly between the worn garments causes me to stutter.

“B-Beer?”

I turn away and open the cans.

“Please. Wow, it feels nice in here. Much better than before.”

I hand her one of the beers and shimmy down the couch, leaving her just enough space to squeeze between me and the armrest.

“You can thank your biggest fan.”

She tips the beer at me before she takes a sip. Her eyes follow my outstretched hand across the room to the oscillating fan.

“Haha. Cute.”

She falls into the couch and bounces off my shoulder without spilling a drop, much to my chagrin. I imagine dabbing the spill off her T-shirt. I fantasize about wiping her thighs dry.

“Hey. Snap out of it.”

She waves her fist in front of my face, snapping her fingers while she interrogates me.

“You ok?”

“Yeah. All good.”

“So, what's for dinner? We doing anything tonight?”

“I ordered a pizza, half pepperoni. I've also got two bottles of Chianti. I figure we can just sit in front of the TV, maybe decide on a movie. If not, we can always take a bottle of wine up to the roof. Cool?”

“That sounds great. Except for the movie part. You are aware there haven't been any good movies this decade, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Let's save that debate for another night. Besides, I don't really feel like running out to the video store.”

“You lazy, wise man. Need another yet?”

She taps her empty can on my forehead. She's giggling again. I wait for the purr to follow.

“Knock, knock. Anyone home?”

“Relax. I'll grab a few more. Tell me about your day. I wanna hear what made it so—“

“I don't want to talk about it. It was a shitshow. The good news is my weekend starts tonight. I'm off tomorrow.”

I return with four more beers and a towel, just in case. We tap cans and both take a healthy draught. She places hers on the table and I strategically hover mine above my shorts with both hands.

“How bad could it be? You're in public relations. Don't you people know how to talk to each other? Work things out?”

“Funny. We're not gonna talk about it. I'd rather discuss crappy movies.”

“Fair enough. So you're off tomorrow?”

I try to keep it cool. I already know she won’t be seeing Paul. There’s a frat retreat at the shore. Bob packed his bags and left this morning. They'll meet there. Deep sea fishing and darts. He won't be back until Monday night. I'm not sure if she knows. If she does, I'm not sure if she knows I know.

“Yah. I put in for the day months ago. We were all supposed to go to Danny’s beach house for the weekend. Did you forget?”

Forget? I didn't get that memo. What the fuck? Why don't I know about this trip? Well, it's no one's loss now. But I plan on making it my gain.

“That was supposed to be this weekend? Damn! Time flies. So what happened?”

By the time she explains everything, the beers are empty. It seems frat weekend trumps summer reunion. Like I said, no one's loss. My gain.

“When's dinner getting here? I didn't get a chance to eat lunch today.”

I told ‘Vinnie’ there was no rush when I ordered the pizza. In hindsight, that might have been a mistake.

“Umm, it'll be here soon. How about one more beer? We'll save the wine for dinner.”

“Are you trying to get me drunk? You should know better.”

Another giggle escapes, eliciting more sparks within me. I'm doing my best to keep them there. The last pair of beers hit their mark. We ease into deeper conversation, and into each other’s space. Words can tease hidden thoughts. They unearth buried feelings. The energy mingles between us like scented smoke wisping from a stick of incense. Any lingering inhibitions fade. We're still holding our beers when we kiss the first time. Our lips barely brush. We peck timidly, like school kids, each kiss longer than the last. Parted lips invite curious tongues. We let go of the beers, and ourselves.

I wrap my hands around Ray’s neck and kiss her. She reciprocates. It’s passionate and sensual. Sensuous? I don't know, nor do I care. I feel her hands on my chest; her nails dragging across my stomach. She’s squeezing my thigh. My fingers rake through her fiery auburn hair. I drop my hands to her shoulders, down her arms, across her breasts. I grab her waist and pull Ray close. I suck on her tongue and she bites my lip.

“Is that the pizza? Hey! Someone's at the door.”

“Wha…“

“Someone's banging on the door. It's probably the pizza.”

“Yeah. I got it. Just need my wallet.”

The door opens and shuts. Footfalls lumber up the stairs.

“I’m baaaack!”

Bob drops his bags in the doorway. All I can think is, thank god we're dressed. All I can say is…

“What’s up? I thought you were gone for the weekend? Is Paul with you?”

**

Ray grabs her beer and relocates to the other couch. The look she throws me sums up our shared frustration. Fortunately, Bob is oblivious to the dynamics within the room.

“Dave’s a fuckin’ idiot. You remember Dave, right? Yeah. Well, he told me we were throwin’ darts tonight when we got down there. Then we’d party all night tomorrow and go fishing early Saturday. Turns out, darts and partying are both tomorrow night. The guy’s a dumb ass. Hey, why's your lip bleeding?”

I drag my tongue across my bottom lip. I taste blood. I catch Ray snickering behind her can of beer.

“Uh, must have cut it on the can’s tab. So, what are you saying? You gonna crash here tonight?”

“Yeah, man. We can hit The Rail, then grab something to eat. Or we can grab something to eat, then hit…“

“So where’s Paul?”

We both look at Ray. She glares at Bob. Her inquiry blindsides him. His lack of intel makes it a losing battle.

“Errr, I don’t…I don’t know, Rach. I haven't talked to him. Honestly. Not since last weekend.”

One thing about Bob, he’s harmless. Another thing, he doesn't lie. I feel for him right now. He’s in the wrong place at the wrong time. Ray's hammer has to fall somewhere. Today, it’s on Bob. I feel for her, too. Beneath that anger, I know she's hurt. Neither of us has spoken with Paul, and now she finds out Bob doesn't even know where he is.

“Hmm. Interesting. You’re housemates and frat brothers and you expect me to believe that you don’t…“

She's interrupted by a pounding at the front door. Bob and I don’t react. We’re looking at Ray, waiting for her to finish her thought. The knocking at the door persists.

“Is someone going to get that?”

Now her anger is directed at both of us. I grab my wallet and retreat toward the living room door.

“Yeah, I got it. It’s probably the…“

‘Rinnnnggg…Rinnnnggg…’

“I’m coming! Relax!”

But it's not the doorbell. We don't have a doorbell.

‘Rinnnnggg…Rinnnnggg…’

“You have got to be kidding me! One shit show a day is enough for me. I'm out of here. Dammit, Bob! Would you answer the phone?”

She shoves him aside and brushes past me, huffing as she stumbles over his bags and storms out of the room.

“You heard her. Get the phone. I gotta get the pizza.”

“Whoa, there’s pizza? Nice, bro.”

When I get back upstairs with the food, Bob’s on the couch with the phone in his lap and my beer in his hand. He's more concerned about dinner than the phone call. It seems to have completely slipped his mind. He finishes my beer and jumps off the couch at me, at the pizza. I stiff-arm him as I drop it on the table. Once I promise him a couple of slices, he shares his recently revised plans. He won't be staying the night after all. Darts and partying will begin at the Kappa house tonight. After a couple more beers and a shower, he'll be on his way. This roller coaster of an evening is headed in the right direction again.

I knock lightly on her door. I've got the Chianti tucked under one arm and the pizza balanced on the forearm of my other. After a second timid attempt, I remember there's no need to be quiet. I kick the bottom of the door with my foot. It creaks open. The room is empty, as is the beer can on her dresser. The window I entered through last week is wide-open and a breeze blows in from the fire escape. There's a lingering scent of Xiest perfume and the comforter has been ripped from her bed. Other than that, nothing seems out of the ordinary. I stick my head out the window searching for confirmation of my theory (wish).

I step through it and onto the fire escape. I smell her cigarette. Relief propels me over the railing and I walk along the eroded eave, following the trail of smoke toward the back of the house. My heart races; as much from the thrill of ‘tight-roping’ this narrow path with a pizza and bottle of wine in tow, as from the excitement of what awaits me on the roof. She quickly stifles my attempt at a pleasant surprise.

“Did he leave?”

“Yeah, he’s gone. He's harmless, Ray.”

“I know. I'm not mad at him. It's just…”

“Don’t bother. I get it. Look at it this way, we’re right back where we started this afternoon, right?”

“I suppose.”

“I made sure he only took one slice of pepperoni. And we've got plenty of wine.”

“You gave him a slice of pepperoni? What the fu…“

“Open the bottle, Ray.”

To say the scene is ideal would be an understatement. She’s got her comforter spread over weathered slate shingles. The roof stretches at a mild pitch from the kitchen windows to the backyard. The evening sky absorbs the afternoon’s heat and burns various shades of persimmon as the sun falls from the sky. The wine picks up where the beer left off, but we’re in no hurry to resume our previous state of affairs. More than two hours of conversation remind us our attraction isn't merely physical.

A nearly full moon glows amidst a sky filled with stars. The kitchen lights push our shadows over the roof’s edge. The dilapidated ceiling fixture dimly shines through the empty bottle balanced on the windowsill, illuminating the green glass. I kiss her soft lips. I can taste the wine on her tongue. Her nails crawl behind my neck and disappear in my hair.

“…Bottle of red…Pizza box white…I’ll satisfy your appetite tonight…”

She giggles as I butcher Mr. Joel’s classic with my impromptu lyrics.

“Shut up, you dope.”

Ray grabs my chin between her thumb and bent fingers. She leans into me and presses her lips against mine, then purrs into my mouth. Her tongue vibrates over mine and frisson charges through my limbs.

With our lips locked, we fall back on the comforter. I pull away from your mouth to kiss your neck. My hands wander across your belly, up under your shirt. I feel the heat rising from your skin. You sigh when I cup your breasts and flick your nipples with my tongue. I press my lips to your areola and circle my tongue around your sensitive, flush skin, then suck on your tip. Your knee rises between my thighs, pressing against my firm cock. I lower my hands to your ass and pull you into me. You push off my chest and straddle me. I run my hands over your hips and up your stomach, then caress your breasts. You arch your back and ride me, grinding a lustful groan out of me. The value of an elastic waistband cannot be understated. You tear down my shorts with little effort, then remove your own, and discard your tee. I drop my hands to your waist and pause to take in your beauty. Your gorgeous smile. The way your hair flows over your shoulders and frames your exposed neck. Your full breasts and taut nipples. The curve of your hips and your smooth stomach. I tense as you dig your nails into my chest and grind your mound into my erection. You lean into me, pressing your firm nips into my chest, then slide down over my waist and envelop my throbbing shaft with your cleavage. Precum escapes my swollen head and glistens on your flesh. I need to be inside you. Now. I pull you up and watch as you slide your slick lips over my hardened staff.

“Hey, Bob! You in there?”

Ray collapses on my chest and buries her face in my shoulder. I feel her heart racing, pounding out of her chest against mine. The yelling is coming from down the hallway that leads into the kitchen. It's Dave. I don't know why the fuck he's here.

“What the fuck is he doing here?”

I hiss my rhetoric into Ray's ear and run my hands down her back and cup her delicious ass. The unexpected visit hasn’t diminished my erection. I subtly raise my hips into her.        

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Maybe not so subtle. She squeals into my neck as quietly as she can and slaps the side of my head. I whisper into her ear that we’ll be fine as long as we keep quiet. Then I notice the wine bottle on the windowsill.

“Fuck.”

She raises her head and looks me in the eye, afraid and nervous. I dart my eyes up at the windowsill, hoping she'll realize what I'm looking at. She follows my gaze, then drops her back to me.

She spits into my shoulder, “Fuck.”

At least we're on the same page. She slowly reaches up to the windowsill for the bottle. She stretches out her fingers toward the neck but is unable to grab it. Dave's been quiet, maybe he never made it into the kitchen. A door opens, then slams shut.

“Dude, where the hell are you?”

I watch you stretch for the bottle a second time. Your nails stab into my skin as you reach. Your pink nipples rise from your perfect breasts, inches from my lips. Your smooth, pale skin glows in the moon’s light. Your fingers graze the bottle, tipping it, but it doesn’t fall. You reposition your weight, balanced on the hand buried in my chest. I'm still deep inside you. I groan as you shift higher on my waist, closer to the window. I sink my fingers into your ass cheeks. You stick your nails deeper into my chest and give me a look of pure evil. You reach for the bottle again. Your nimble fingers extend from your flexed arm. Your thighs tense against my waist when you stretch. Your contorted body trembles. I feel you grip me from within and I growl between bared teeth in ecstasy as I thrust you upward. Your fingers reach the neck; now if you could just wrap your thumb…

“I’m down here, dumb ass. In the backyard. What the fuck are you doing?”