Lauren

I had been seeing Lauren off and on for a long time; it seemed that whenever things would start becoming more serious between us, she always pushed me away (usually to head straight into some disastrous relationship). This time, when she had contacted me after several years, was likely to be no different, I thought. Still, I decided to put my very best foot forward.

You need to understand something. In high school, I was a basic gear-head rat, enjoying life with all the other gear-head rats I hung out with. One day, during my junior year, I was sitting in Chemistry class chatting with one of my rat friends, when I looked toward the front of the room, and was nearly quite literally struck dumb by the sight of Lauren, a student lab assistant to my Chemistry teacher. For the rest of my high school years, I adored her from afar, realizing that being a rat wasn't good enough anymore, not if I wanted to earn the privilege of talking with this gorgeous girl. She was petite, slender, and feminine, her long flowing sandy blonde-brown hair hanging well below her shoulders.

Over the years, I changed, abandoning my rat ways, first at college then law school, over which time, I met her again, got to know her, and even became friends with her and her family. But every time we would come close to developing something more, much to her parents' frustration (they approved of me, post-rat days) she would push me away, and as I said, often rush into horrible relationships with guys who treated her horribly. Eventually, she would always come back for mending, and just when I had her in one piece emotionally again, the old push and rush to disaster routine would kick in.

As much as I knew the routine, I wanted this time to be different, though. This time, I pulled out all the stops. There is a wonderful four star inn and hotel in rural Virginia about an hour away from D.C. called the Inn at Little Washington, in a small village that is actually called Washington, Virginia. This place cost me serious coin, not like I had it to spend, but I wanted to say for the rest of my life, that even if she pushed me away again, I had given it my best shot.

I made reservations both dinner and for a room. The drive is fantastic; early October in Virginia is a wonderful time. And Lauren, she could not look lovelier. She wears a light silk blouse which was barely translucent, and a light wool skirt which came down slightly below her knees. She has a pearl necklace, and wears summery espadrilles for shoes. The look was breezy and conservative, and yet extremely feminine. Her skin glowed, and her hair shined. Her eyes sparkled . . . . well, you get the idea. I was smitten, as usual.

It is a prix fixe menu. We arrive a little early and are escorted to a lounge, where we order champagne. Vueve Cliqout, the Grande Dame vintage variety, not the regular yellow label brut (which, by the way, is also pretty good). Like always happens with really fine champagne, we get a little light headed, but it gets our appetites going.

Finally we are escorted to our table, where we are presented with a truly fabulous meal of many varied courses. After a wonderful light salad, and a hearty soup made with yellow peppers, for the entree, I order wild pheasant, with rustic stuffing, with steamed asparagus, and Lauren had broiled swordfish and scallops, served on a bed of rice. We complimented the meal with a bottle of Chateau La Tour, cru premier, 1989. A fabulous wine, and a fabulous year. I wanted to lick the plate, but Lauren's presence restrained me. Anyway, for dessert, we have just a light raspberry sherbet served with melon slices, a perfect finish to a perfect meal. After dinner, I settle the bill, and then we head off to our $750/night suite. I had passed the room off as part of a short vacation we were taking as friends (I sure as hell didn't let her know what I had paid for the room!). After all, we wouldn't want to drive after drinking a bottle of wine, right?

It has a sitting area, very tastefully decorated, with the king?sized Chippendale four?poster bed in a loft overlooking the sitting area. This room was first-class, a suite actually, with all the amenities of a wonderful luxury apartment.

Upon entering, Lauren spies a chilled bottle of Perrier Jouet Champagne, one of their limited edition hand?painted bottles with matching hand?painted glasses. Next to the ice bucket is a chilled bowl of strawberries, and fresh whipped cream in a silver covered dish. The room is lit softly with several candles, and the moon shines intermittently through bay windows as the clouds rush past it in the night sky. I pour the champagne, and handing Lauren a glass, I offer a toast to her. She blushes, and smiles. That smile is capable of breaking my heart at a distance, and this close up, I don't know if I can handle it. What happens next really surprises me, though . . .

As we sit on the couch, Lauren takes a strawberry from the silver bowl, dips it in the cream, brings it up to her mouth, and slowly tongues the cream off the bumpy texture of the berry. I see her tongue feeling the texture of the strawberry, and she then takes it and drags it slowly against her lips and tongue. I allow a light moan/growl of "wow!", as the sight of that really works on my mind. Her eyes glow, and I can tell that something has changed in how she was looking at me.

Lauren's eyes sparkle at the sound I make, and taking the strawberry, she slowly wraps her lips around the tip of it, while her eyes were locked on mine, and carefully biting it, she devours the berry, without ever taking her eyes from mine. Taking the chance (though with the signals she was sending out, it wasn't much of a risk!) I move toward her on the couch. I take possession of her champagne glass, and carefully set it down on the end table; Lauren moves to meet me, and we begin to embrace. Slowly, lightly at first. The desire in her eyes gets my mind wandering rapidly. I feel like time has stopped - this is something I have been waiting literally years to achieve, and now I'm terrified I would screw it up.

I gently grasp Lauren's shoulders, feeling her slender arms beneath the texture of the silk blouse; her skin shimmers beneath the material. I start to kiss her, and her lips and mine become moister with each passing kiss, and each kiss gets more physical than the last.

Then I feel Lauren's tongue, rushing against my lips. I smell the strawberries on her lips. She then slowly stands and, taking my hand, leads me to the floor, which has a large lambskin rug, with a very soft thick coat on it. It is soft and almost painfully white in the moon light. The candle light plays against its surface. Sinking slowly to her knees, Lauren pulls me down to follow. She then relaxes against the lambskin.

I follow, and moving my hand from her arms, I feel the outline of her delicate brassiere. Lauren is, as I said, slender, and her undergarments are delicate and feminine. I gently trace her breasts through her silk blouse and brassiere, with just my fingertips. Moving to their peaks, I can feel her nipples hardening underneath. I slowly undo the buttons of the blouse, exposing her chest to the gentle cool breezes of autumn. The weather is dry and cool, and the candles flicker in the breeze coming into the room through the open french doors. Lauren's skin chills with the breeze. I carefully reach behind her, between her blouse and her skin, and undo the clasp of the delicate lingerie

Lauren arches her arch back, allowing me to gain access to the clasp. At the same time, her hand reaches down, and traces the outline of my growing erection beneath my wool trousers. I moan, and I hear her softly exhale at the touch of the stiffness underneath the wool fabric of my trousers.

Then with her other hand Lauren slowly pulls the suspenders off my shoulders, and once they're past my elbows, returns both hands to my trousers, running them against the wool. The scent of burning autumn leaves lingers in the air. I gently lift her back from off of the lambskin rug, and I carefully remove the blouse and brassiere, exposing her torso to the autumn night as she begins to undo the buttons of my dress shirt, leaving my tie where it is for the moment. The silk of the tie dangles and rubs against Lauren's breasts, and the feel of it excites her nipples gently. Her hands move down again to my trousers, having opened my shirt except at the neck. She undoes the clasp of the trousers, and gives a gentle tug at the zipper, opening them up.

Lauren's hands reach inside the pants to the silk boxer shorts. Without reaching inside yet, she retraces the path her fingers took just a few minutes earlier. It is humid there, and it feels warm around her fingers. The silk glides over her fingertips, and she can feel my erection inside. Through the silk, she grasps the erection, which is now hardening rapidly. Running her fingers across the silk fabric, she reaches the head; it feels warm to her hand, and Lauren feels it move as she gently squeeze it with her fingertips.

I have moved from her lips, moving my tongue down her chin, to her throat, to the little cavity at the base of her neck just above the breastbone. Lauren's chest arches as I reach her petite breasts, taking first the left then the right into my mouth. I reach over to the bowl, and remove a strawberry, and trace her nipples with its moisture. The bumpy texture of the strawberry tickles her nipples, as it seems she can feel every minute detail of the berry's surface.

The moisture of the berry leaves a gentle taste, and I return to kissing one breast and tickling the other with the strawberry, tasting the essence of the strawberry on each nipple. Lauren's left hand reaches for the band of my boxers, and pulling it toward her, her right hand moves inside, running down from my navel first against the pubic hairs, then to the base of my erection. I reach down, and release her skirt. I slowly and gently pull it down from around her waste, and then run the tips of my fingers against the damp cotton between her legs. Involuntarily, Lauren's heels dig into the lambskin rug, and her hips turn upwards. My mostly opened shirt drapes around her reclining body, like a tent protecting Lauren against the chill breeze. Inside this tent, it is warm and humid. I can smell her excitement, and it invokes a primordial urge in me.

Lauren tugs my trousers and boxers down. With both her slender hands now she grasps my erection, as I slowly remove her panties from around her garter belt and stockings, and finally down and off her ankles. I can't control my hands any longer. Her legs spread and find warmth in the texture of the deep, soft lambskin. Lauren does not release her grip on me, but guides me slowly toward her. Her finger tips run gently over the tip of my erection, and I feel her rub the sticky clear moisture residue from the tip between her fingers; the feeling of the tacky liquid on her fingertips brings a soft, slightly wanton smile to her lips.

Finally, the tip of my erection touches the soft hair of her warm pubic mound. She rub its tip up and down, as if to tease me gently. The look in my eyes lets her know she is having the desired effect. I grasp the tip of Lauren's ear gently between my teeth, exhale and growl, letting her know I am ready. The sticky moisture she has left on the tip of my shaft by rubbing it against her informs me she is also ready. Slowly, but without any hesitation, she guides me inside of her, and as the dress shirt drapes over her, she buries her head in my chest, and wraps her legs around my buttocks, which are flexed with my legs into a muscular knot.

I grasp her buttocks with one hand, and with the other, cradle her head, as I slowly begin to glide into her. The feeling is like moist electricity. Involuntarily, she moans "Ohhh, it's been soooooo long!" Her voice is strangely husky and yet still feminine, and the sound of it cuts right through me. Lauren takes my silk tie into her teeth, hoping to prevent herself from moaning out loud.

I can feel Lauren begin to tense, as she starts to rock herself up to meet me at every stroke. I reach up, take another strawberry, and rub its sweet moisture against her lips; the red ripe strawberry stains into the silk of the tie in her teeth, causing her to open her mouth. When she does, she gasps, and gives me a sign she is experiencing the slight pain every man wishes and dreams to inflict on his lover. Her back arches, again and again, and I begin to feel the loss of control I know is inevitable.

But this is different, more intense. My mind goes like the wind, and I cannot stop. The combination of the autumn breeze, the burning scent of the leaves, the strawberries, and Lauren's natural musk, with the visual image of her beneath me, her eyes scrunched shut and mouth slightly open, clicks inside my brain. Lauren is also reacting, squeezing her legs around my waist, digging her fingernails into my shoulders. I look down, and seeing her contorted face, the stained silk tie dangling from her lips, I lose control. Suddenly I feel myself, my entire being, pumping inside of her, as she clings to my back with both her arms and legs. My muscles in my arms and legs shake involuntarily, as the last bits of my essence pulse into her. I collapse against Lauren, my weight resting against her chest. Her brow is damp, her eyes still closed tight. At last, she unclenches, and holding me close, snuggles her cheek into my chest.

It is a long time before we are willing or even able to release from each other. After many minutes, my mind wanders to Hemingway's "For Whom the Bell Tolls." For the first time in my life, I realize what he meant by the phrase "the earth moved."

I know the future is uncertain with a creature like Lauren; somehow, I doubt I have the luck or the ability to quiet her need to run from her fears, and that I cannot go on repairing her or protecting her from herself for ever. But tonight, just for tonight, as she clings to me, and I can feel her feeling of security, something I know she feels so rarely, tonight I am in heaven.