"Come here, oh yes, here", he said. Julie didn't turn around, but her shoulders shook; like a little bird that has fallen from its nest and is about to die. He had not heard from her in the fortnight since that unexpected encounter. They had met in a dark alley in between Road and Faith street. Once he had recovered from their embrace, he had been furious, not sure why, but definitely furious. 

Julie flung herself on the ground and pretended to gaze unhappily at the stairs. He should be flush with success, but he had found he couldn't truly enjoy any of it. Instead he was only filled with a ceaseless, restless anxiety. He felt his pants sticking unhappily on his crotch like that day, the day when they met for the first time. 

“I want you,” Nic whispered. His hair was parting to one side, kind of cute and disturbing at the same time.

She crossed her legs and then regretted it. They both laid on the ground. The carpet was mouldy and smelled of time. He ran one finger along her neck, and she shivered. She reached out, pulled him towards her. Julie cleared her throat as if she was about to sing Dido's lament. Any inhibitions she may have had swiftly vanished beneath Nic's warm hands and fingernails.

“Do you have any idea how much I want you?”, he wanted to say but hesitated. What if this was just one of those encounters that happened within the space of imagination and never talked about again. What if this was not part of her or him or anyone they had ever known.

Julie parted her parched lips to reply, but could think of nothing to say. One hand reached up and touched him cheek, the other reached down and massaged his sticky crotch.

“I've been wanting to kiss you all evening,” Nic said softly, and suddenly she was lost. Pulling him closer, her lips opened like a flower beneath her.

A smile played across her lips, as, slowly, she began to move her hand lower, towards his thighs.  Each and every cell in her body had caught fire and burned with need.

“I don't think you need this dress anymore, I am sure it will look better on the floor,” Nic said. He moved one strap off her shoulder and the other fell off by itself, leaving her bared to the slow tease of his warm tongue, which ran over her nipples, dark and slow. His every touch was a dizzying new pleasure.

Her hand slid over his chest beyond the open collar. Julie shucked out of his shirt, groaned again at the feel of his hands rubbing over her skin and squeezing her gently. He had long delicate fingers, yet, she imagined, very capable and fast; for a moment she thought of him in his office environment, making decisions, telling people what to do, or carrying things around; that was always a turn on for her. But her thing was keyboards. There was nothing that could turn her on more than seeing a man typing on a keyboard. And Nic would definitely look good typing.

She  was now on the ground between his feet, drawing legs apart and settling herself between them. He cupped his tongue on Julie's lips, and pushed against her. He stifled a cry and Julie let out a hot breath as he gave her another stroke.

Julie cupped him, then circled her thumb over him. She could feel the urgency in his body as he gathered her closer.

“Oh, yes. I want you now,” he said eager.

He slid her hands under her panties and groaned, a hundred hands moving, and they gave up whatever hope they had of going slowly. He guided her finger to her clit and rubbed it softly, the thought of it sent a electric current to his penis. He forced the finger into her vagina, easily getting in and pushing it deeper and deeper. A forced masturbation directed by him, as he wanted. He couldn't explain it but it always worked for him. She knew it and played along, feeling the tremble of his hand as he directed her finger into her vagina. She enjoyed the feeling of giving up her will, becoming his doll, surrendering to him. Her finger was in her vagina, moving and giving her pleasure but it felt like it was a strange object, an extension of her body, familiar, yet not able to control.

He couldn't resist anymore, thinking of this wet finger. He slid it out of her vagina and her panties, careful not to rub it against the cloth and loose the precious juices. He guided it, dead weight, towards his mouth and just before his lips sucked it in, he closed his eyes and groaned with pleasure.

She felt the thrust of his desire, like an invasion of fire and an implosion of wind. Her body welcomed him and embraced him so sweetly it was like coming home.

Then they came. 

Much later he opened his eyes as Julie stirred beside him.
“What time is it?” he asked, staring at the ceiling. The ground was hard, and very cool.

Julie found the question confusing. He has never asked this before. What did he have in his mind?