I usually liked this coffee place, because it was the only one that I knew in Boston that played jazz. That is why I would walk several kilometers in the early cold of October to have breakfast there, every morning. But although I have always admired both Ella Fitzgerald and Georges Gershwin, I could never stand that song. It feels like a lie: it just sounds too soothing. And it is not at all what it feels like, to have a crush.

The guy who coined the expression, I bet he knew. This word carries my emotion so well. "Crush". Like a worm under the boot of a beautiful woman. Notice how it starts like "cruel" and ends with "shhh," as if the word commands silence. I could never sum up the courage to talk to Esther in high school.

What was it about her that made me so obsessed with her? Was it the unique shade of her dark-blue eyes, or the soft curve of her slightly curled blond hair? The sweetness of her smile or the delicate harmony of her traits? It would have made things so much easier if I could pretend my attraction for her was only physical and superficial. But, in truth, I admired her. Always first in class, she made it to Harvard. She wanted to become a doctor and work for a humanitarian organization.

Still sitting at that coffee shop, my eyes caught the back of a girl's hair, which was the same blond shade as hers. A familiar pang hit my stomach. Two years after I left high school, I had never seen her again. But every so often, I would have the impression of recognizing her from afar. In the end, it was never her, but I ended up being dizzy. I knew I was sick—mentally sick. But the psychologist I've seen could not help.

The girl turned and looked at me. She smiled and came towards me. As she approached, I felt the knot in my stomach tighten. The resemblance was really striking.

"Hello Anthony, how are you? Long time, no see."

I could not believe it. It was her. And she remembered my name.

"I am happy to see you!" she continued, sitting at my table.

Happy to see me? What should I have said? There was not a single day that I spent without thinking about her. Because of her, all my relationships had failed so far. Because of her, I was still a virgin. Could I honestly date another girl, when each time I closed my eyes for a kiss, I would think of her? When every time I had an orgasm, I would conjure up her image in my imagination.

"Happy to see you too. What are you doing here?"

With a thousand thoughts running through my brain, I could barely listen to her answer. I went through the conversation like a robot, not managing to talk properly but hearing with delight her melodious voice. She looked even more irresistible than I remembered, so much so that it caused me actual pain to look at her. It should be forbidden to be so beautiful, I thought. I couldn't help noticing that she was not wearing a bra, that her breasts were so very firm, and that she had a very low décolleté. I could see the shape of her erect nipples through the fabric. I asked myself whether she was leaning towards me on purpose and whether the fact that she was running her fingers through her hair was a sign of nervousness. Suddenly, one of her remarks sent a chill through my spine.

"I have thought a lot about you since we left high school. I know we never really talked to each other, but I always found it cute—how shy you were, and how obvious it was that you had a crush on me."

*

I was sitting nervously in her living room.

"I am letting you guys get to know each other better. I am going to put on something more comfortable," she declared.

When she left the living room, I took a good look at her boyfriend. No matter how jealous I felt, I could not deny she had good taste. Tall and muscular, he was elegantly dressed. His face exuded an air of intelligence and softness that nicely contrasted with the sharpness of his body. At that very moment, he looked embarrassed, though.

"Thank you so much for doing this," he said. "I know it might sound weird, but she does not want to have sex otherwise."

We sat for a minute in silence. He continued, "I wish things were different, but I cannot refuse her anything. Who can say no to such a girl?"

There was a knot in my throat, so I sighed deeply as an answer.

"She is just driving herself too hard! Always studying like crazy, running competitively, working for a charity on the weekend... The girl just needs a way to let the steam out, you know? And this is how she does it."

Esther came back into the living room. She had passed a beautiful transparent night dress, through which one could guess the shape of her breasts. Her long legs were covered by stockings attached to her thighs by delicate lace garters.

"What do you think?" she asked, before slowly turning, letting us admire the round and firm cheeks of her muscled buttocks, separated by the thin fabric of a G-string underwear. She pressed herself sensually against the wall with an undulating movement, curving her back, first approaching her breasts, then rolling forward her hips, as if she wanted to impale herself on an imaginary dildo.

Staring at us with an inviting look, she asked, "Should we get started?"

*

In the room, she told me to sit on a chair.

"You don't mind being attached, do you? A simple measure of precaution. I am sure you are a gentleman, but some guys touched themselves during some sessions in the past, and I found it frankly off-putting."

She attached my hands and ankles with two pairs of leather handcuffs and then joined the two together with a rope passing below the chair. I was completely immobilized. Seemingly forgetting me, the two lovers started to kiss passionately and noisily. Then, he proceeded to remove the admirable pieces of lingerie that ornamented her body.

First, he slowly let her nightdress fall off her shoulders, discovering a laced bra. He went down, slowly kissing her belly, and continued the path of his lips until he arrived at her hips. He went down further, branching out on one leg, and slid down the garter. The movement was slow and sensual, and she seemed to shiver from the pleasure of the satin fabric caressing her skin. Having taken care of her by denuding her legs, he went back up her body, and detached her bra, revealing two red erected nipples. He finally uncovered the last piece of fabric that was hiding her second pair of lips. He started to lick them. The hardness in my pants had become intolerable.

After a few minutes, she slowly pushed his face away.

"I want you," she uttered.

He laid behind her while she slowly spread her legs, exposing to my gaze the pretty flower of pink flesh between her tights. In a well-orchestrated choreography, he penetrated her from behind, while she was lying on her side, one leg up, at an angle such that I would not lose any detail of his sex penetrating her. Their movements soon became faster, and her moans louder. I was finding myself unconsciously fighting against my restraints, and my erection was apparently trying to beak the fabric of my underwear.

"I am close," he said, after a long while.

"Oh no, not so soon," she replied, pouting. "Let's take a break, and I'll entertain our guest."

She sat on the bed, facing me, and started to sensually rub her clitoris, looking at me straight in the eyes. She began with slow circles, a slightly devious, irrepressible smile on her face, which disappeared progressively as she got closer to satisfaction.

"I am close too," she said. "Let's start again."

He laid down, and she started to ride him, her gaze lost in the void until she closed her eyes, the pleasure apparently depriving her of the force to hold her eyelids open. Her firm breasts were gently bouncing, and I would have given anything to be allowed to suck her nipples. She started to rub her clitoris, synchronizing the movement of her fingers with the thrusts of her hips, which allowed her to engulf his manhood, until she reached an explosive climax. She took a minute or two to recover and then positioned herself on all four. He took her from behind. She smiled at me the whole time, a cruel yet sweet smile, that seemed to let me know that she could see how much I wanted to make love to her, and that assured me that I never would.

His thrusts became harder and harder, until, after he let a grunt escape they stopped. Following a plan apparently well established beforehand, he lost no time before untying me.

"Now, would you be so sweet as to clean me up?" she asked me.

He handed me a box of tissues, and I proceeded to slowly wipe the white liquid dripping out of her wet folds.

*

We were all sitting on the couch, and Esther brought me a cup of tea, hoping that it would help me recover from the emotions of the last hours.

"Did you find an apartment already?" she asked, with genuine interest in her tone.

"Not yet. For now, I am staying in a cheap, crappy hotel until I find something affordable."

She gave a quick look at her boyfriend and then drew nearer to me.

"Why don't you stay with us for a while?" she asked. "Then you can watch us have sex every day! You know, today was one of my best times thanks to you. The way you looked at me, the desperation in your eyes... that was really invaluable."

I looked at her in shock, wondering if I had heard correctly.

"Please, pretty please. Of course, you won't get to fuck me, but I promise to tease and torment you constantly. It will be so fun! What do you say?"

I said yes. What would you have done?