If the Night Could Burn
“So how’s it all supposed to end?”
The sun was white hot while everything about her was cool and dark. She was a smoldering dark fire. The kind that burns you from the inside if you get close. She sat up straight, full of poise and confidence she didn’t seem to fully believe.
She watched him think a few seconds and glanced down at her demitasse cup. People were crossing the plaza in random paths. Crossing and uncrossing. Everyone at their own pace.
The world was in progress but it never touched them.
“Just like this,” he said. “Maybe even in this very same café. One of us will say something final, get up and walk away. The other will sit a while longer reflecting on everything that led to the moment, maybe wonder what might’ve happened if something had turned left instead of right at some point. It could even be this moment we’re sitting in now.”
She reached back with both hands to fluff her hair off her neck. It was that raven black that almost looks blue in the sun and it hung around her shoulders like spun midnight. The gesture pushed her conspicuous breasts against her brief, black bikini. Black lace beach wrap over it all. Her eyes were an improbable steel blue. They were wholesome, and a little bit wary.
She took the plastic bottle off the table and poured more water into her glass. The way her lips pursed around the rim made his blood feel like it was suddenly flowing backwards.
“You sound pretty sure,” she said with a gentle lip smack, setting her glass down.
“The possibilities are slightly endless,” he said.
“Really,” she remarked with curious amusement.
Lance nodded. “Or we could part as good friends, with a chaste handshake, thankful for a season of polite companionship.”
“Polite companionship?” she snickered.
“Those are just the likely ones.”
“And how many likely ones do you think there are?” She smiled with one side of her mouth.
“Not as many as the other kind.”
“Hm, the other kind,” she considered. “For example?”
She studied him with calm intensity. That’s when he saw the other thing, the hint of uncertainty behind everything else. He leaned onto the table, angling toward her.
“Falling in love and running away over the hills.” An irrational smirk creased his face. “Maybe it’s already started.”
She laughed, as though passing off the foolishness of his remark, but there was a strain of discomfort behind it.
It would have been easy to write her off as perfect with a passing glance, but he would have missed the little bits of clumsiness in the way she maneuvered the tiny sidewalk table and chair, or the gathering shimmer of moisture in the valley between her breasts. The whispered suggestion of awkwardness in her skin.
She had round edges that almost seemed thick, yet somehow came off as svelte. He got the sense even though she was meticulous with her looks, she wasn’t entirely comfortable with them.
“So, if I’m tracking you correctly,” she said, “one of us could end up doing something right now that would affect everything that comes next. So we should always be careful what we do ‘cuz it could really mess things up. Right?”
She crossed her legs and he thought how everything goes in circles no matter what you do. It was something about the fluid way her hip curled into her thigh, and the way her calf bulged as it rested against the other leg. Her beach skirt was tight and brief, curving to her shape like another skin.
Curves and circles. His blood started a brand new circuit through his body.
“Pretty much everything except the part about being careful.”
She smiled curiously. The sandal dropped off her crossed-over foot and her toe brushed his shin.
“Because…?” she invited.
Dani had come out of the salon across the plaza and sat at the squat, round table in front. She eyed Lance and Skye, wary but discreet. She was a thin, pretty thirty year old from the north. She went to work painting her nails. Focused.
Lance turned his attention back to Skye, glancing at the creamy legs that didn’t quite fit beneath the table.
“Because,” he said, slowly but without thinking, “sometimes the best way to do something is the wrong way.”
Her smile became a grin. He smiled back but she looked down at the table again. Then he did something he’d been wanting to the last fifteen mornings in a row. He reached under the table and touched her skin. His fingers slid over the bulging part of her calf. She was warm, silken, a little damp.
When she didn’t look up, he touched her with his whole hand, letting his palm slide up her calf to the bend. He pressed his fingers into the softness of the skin on the inside of her knee. She made a sound like she wanted to say something but changed her mind before it turned into words.
He caught Dani watching them. Her expression was neutral, but she looked away as soon as his eyes connected with hers. Disapproval. He looked back across the table at Skye. There was a massive, potted bird of paradise behind her chair, detonating red flowers the size of her head.
Everything could grow there. Even orchids bloomed out of the air.
“Is this that moment that could make or break everything?” She chanced a brief look at his face.
“I don’t know,” he said, his hand moving higher along her thigh, pressing, squeezing slightly. “I’m not thinking past your skin right now.”
“It’s just skin,” she said.
“Funny thing about skin,” he said. “The way it wraps around a person, a woman especially, and makes the air feel a certain way.”
“You probably shouldn’t be touching mine.”
“Yeah, I know.”
His hand slipped higher, moving toward the tautly stretched hem of her beach skirt. The muscles in her thighs flexed as they squeezed. She took a deep breath at the same time. She rocked her top leg and shifted her thigh so his fingers could slip between. Trapped. Hot silk and perspiration.
“I have to go soon,” she said, but kept her thighs clamped around his hand. Tense but accepting. She kept looking around and over her shoulder.
“I know that, too,” he said. He moved his thumb in an arc over the meat of her thigh. The shape of her nipples appeared in the fabric of her bikini.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, as much to herself as him.
“I hope so.” His tone was soft. It was almost a plea. At the same time, his fingers dug into her thigh and squeezed. His hand was nearly under her skirt. The kind of fog ships run aground in passed through her eyes.
“I think I know when that moment is going to be now,” he said, watching her face.
“The one that changes everything? However it ends up?”
“That one, yeah.”
“The moment I take my hand back. You could evaporate and disappear. And that wouldn’t be good.”
“And if I don’t?”
“That would be like the air making a promise.”
She uttered a weak laugh. “I promise I won’t evaporate,” she said.
“I’ll trust you on that.” Her skin went sweaty against his hand. Or maybe it was the other way around. He closed his eyes and sighed.
She shifted her thigh enough to free his hand, but he didn’t take it away. His palm slid further, until his fingertips brushed the snug material of the bikini hugging her mound under the skirt.
She muttered his name softly and finally looked up. He took his hand back.
“Um…see? I didn’t evaporate.”
“No, you sure didn’t,” he smiled, but the tone was unconvinced, as if there were a “not yet” hovering behind it.
Her face looked set to stand up and walk off, but her body was slow to follow. She took another sip of water.
“Can I ask one more thing before I go?” she stalled.
He smiled, nodded of course.
“How do you think the way my skin is wrapped around me makes the air feel?”
He thought seriously and finally pinned her eyes. “Like an imitation of something.”
Her lips curled into his memory. She stood up and so did he. They leaned close and kissed from the sides of their mouths.
“Thank you, Lance.”
“Shhh, don’t say that,” he started to say, but she was already on her way through the plaza. The sinew of her thighs and ass moved as if she were stalking something no one else could see.
The only thing he didn’t like about watching her walk away was knowing she was on her way somewhere else. He tried reminding himself she was only a woman. She was simply walking. A little awkward, even.
But she was elegance and fire dancing out of reach.
He saw Dani watching him watch Skye walk away. He stepped inside the café and ordered another coffee and a cup of tea, then carried the cups across the plaza and sat down with Dani. He pushed the tea across the table. She smiled and nodded, then her expression turned serious.
“She married lady.”
“Yeah, Dani, I know.” He took a breath. “But she’s got that look in her eye. She may have a husband, but she’s anything but married.”
“Look for trouble.”
He grinned at her. “Maybe looking for someone like me.”
“What I say.”
The stench of open sewers shrouded Lance in a fog of dirty secrets. It made the air feel thicker as he walked the teeming streets through a chaos of go-go bars and street hustlers swilling into a white noise that started to feel peaceful. Everything between love and hate was for sale. Everyone in motion. Motorbikes, taxis, hookers and bar girls…pimps and wasted foreigners pearl diving in sludge.
He turned onto the main artery leading to the beach. In the middle of the night, it was shut off to vehicles and crowded with people. He passed a glut of ladyboys flashing perfect nipples and long, lotion-smooth legs. Feminine with a vengeance.
The volume of the chaos grew as he left them behind. There was an odd comfort in sin and desperation. Maybe it was in the small illusion of escape he would feel reaching the end of the street and stepping away from it all onto the beach. Everything comes and goes and only a little ever comes back.
He passed a broad plaza of open kiosk style bars with adjacent pedestals and poles where pretty hostesses danced and flirted with each other and the crowd. Pleated miniskirts and hotpants. Bright, neon tube tops across arching breasts. Glowing, nut brown skin and sultry gazes.
In the middle of it all was Skye. She might as well have been a dark bird of paradise shrouded in mist.
A handsome, well-built man was pulling her arm and pointing at the platform, urging her to get up and dance along with the working girls. She was laughing but trying to pull away, shaking her head no. The pulling was insistent, while patrons and bar girls all chipped in to egg her on. There was a bar girl standing with them, gleefully wrapped around the moment Skye was trying to pull away from.
Lance stepped into the plaza, but kept to the fringes and watched. It was an easy assumption the man trying to push her onto the platform was her husband.
Finally, Skye raised her hands. Her lips opened around an “okay” of surrender. Her husband looked sunburned and more than a little drunk. He looped one arm around the bar girl and tipped a beer bottle into his mouth with the other. Skye took the offered hand of one of the dancers and stepped onto the round, cement platform. It was only a couple of feet high, but in her heeled sandals it seemed a much bigger step.
Lance flashed on their conversation that morning. A light, prickling sensation over his skin gave him the feeling this was one of those pivotal moments for Skye and her husband. Then again, he reminded himself what an incorrigible dreamer he’d always been.
As awkward as she was at first, everyone around her was cheering. It was impossible to tell what she was dancing to, with each of the bars blaring their own systems into the din of industrial revelry.
Skye was wearing a white skirt much like the one she’d worn on her walk to the beach that morning. White, short sleeved blouse knotted under heavy breasts. She closed her eyes, as if to shut out the crowd and let her body sway.
Lance slowly worked his way closer, keeping his eyes on Skye as he squeezed through the crowd. There was sweet contradiction in how she could be so eminently noticeable yet somehow distanced from it all. But no one was really paying so much attention to her as to the context she was in.
She gradually settled into herself and started moving selflessly, as if she were dancing to some song in her mind. Around her, the pros looked like amateurs in their jerky, perfunctory seduction. She wasn’t exactly the same woman who met him at the café every morning. Onstage she seemed to stretch out beyond herself. Under the lights, her skin was almost as bluish as her hair. She wasn’t a quiet beauty in hiding anymore.
Lance entered the cramped circle of people around the bar. Her husband was squeezing the bar girl’s ass as he watched his wife rock her hips.
Lance got a bottle of water and watched Skye sway into a few moments of unthinking, erotic poise. She grabbed the pole with one hand and ground her hips in a pattern that made him think of infinity. He started to believe he could hear the song in her mind from the way she was moving.
A smile of bemused awe played just beneath his mouth. Then Skye opened her eyes and spotted him. She seemed to clench a moment, not quite knowing what to do. His sudden appearance was unexpected, and under the strange circumstances, probably just as unwanted.
He followed the quick movement of her eyes from him to her husband and back again. Her husband was too far gone in his own moment to see beyond it and missed whatever significance her glance might’ve had. Lance was a little in the mist on that himself, but he suddenly realized their mornings at the café were something she kept to herself.
Skye pulled her face away from Lance and snapped her head back, tossing back her flowing hair. She grabbed the pole with both hands and bent down, pushing her ass toward the crowd while her feet went apart and her skirt lifted to the thumbnail creases of her ass cheeks.
She ground her hips in a slow, pulse hammering rhythm. Then she squatted down, holding the pole as she rode up and down the springs of her tautly flexed legs. Lance caught a palpable sense memory of his hand between her thighs under the table that morning, feeling the tacky dampness of her luxurious skin all over again.
Everyone cheered, the bar girls and her husband the loudest of all, but after the last move, Skye was ready to come down off the platform. She seemed to suddenly remember where she was and looked quickly at Lance. Then she scanned the faces around her, but instead of anyone stepping forward to help her down, the crowd just goaded her to keep dancing. Lance started to think about stepping up to offer his hand when she balled her fists onto her hips and gave her husband a plaintive sneer.
Skye’s husband reached up and lifted her down as she steadied her hands on his shoulders. Lance watched them hug. Her husband was laughing and was probably extolling her qualities as a bar girl, but it was impossible to make out what anyone was saying unless they were talking directly in your ear.
Lance slipped sideways into the crowd. He wasn’t half a dozen paces into a clean escape when he caught the husband’s voice cutting through the noise. “Queen of the bar girls!” he was shouting. Lance stopped. He mused briefly on how loosely the two of them were wrapped around what was supposed to be a good time. He smiled to himself and turned back. He caught Skye beside the bar, talking into her ear to be heard.
“Queen of the bar girls?” he teased, without smiling too much.
“You look taller sitting down,” she responded, half looking at him.
“So how much?”
“How much?” he repeated, louder.
She started to laugh until she saw he wasn’t kidding. She studied his face and thought a minute. Then she nodded toward her husband, who was still flirting with the bar girl.
“Talk to my pimp,” she told him.
She gave him a challenging look, and he took a few more moments to study her husband. Lance had at least ten years on him. The mistake the man was about to make Lance had already carved into fine art. A hundred times in a hundred ways, but it was all the same, single mistake.
The conversation was quick. Her husband laughed at first, and then Lance realized Skye was standing right behind him. He looked at his wife and laughed again. The bar girl pulled his arm to hustle another watered down drink. Lance stepped off toward the bar to let them have their talk. The bar girl hung on watching them like a tennis match. To her, Skye was the queen of inconvenience.
Lance gave them his back.
It was too loud to hear if they were joking or arguing. Or even both. He considered ordering something when Skye’s voice cut into his ear through the dissonance.
“C’mon, let’s go.”
Skye’s husband watched Lance follow his wife out of the plaza with a wary grin on his face, but the bar girl had his attention back before they ever reached the street.
Skye was half way to the end of the street by the time she realized Lance wasn’t keeping up with her. When she stopped and turned, he kept his pace as he closed the space between them. She had a look he’d never seen before. It could’ve been anger or simple impatience. But when he got close, she smiled just as if she were looking at him across a cup of espresso.
“I hope you know this means coffee’s on you for…um…” she pretended to think about it, “…forever.”
“There’s a thought,” he muttered, considering the way the air seemed to rush out of her way every time she moved. He didn’t think she heard him, but she didn’t ask him to repeat himself.
“Remember what we were talking about this morning?” she asked. Her smile turned vaguely wistful. A radiant sense of calm came into her face while Babylon went about its business all around them. “About one, pivotal moment that affects everything else?”
“Ok,” he said, watching her lips, waiting for them to move again.
“I think you’re wrong,” she told him. “I don’t think there’s ever just one. There has to be a lot of them. They line up after a while and then everything goes down like dominoes.”
“Interesting theory,” he grinned. He could tell her she was right some other time. He started to keep walking but she held him back for one more thing.
“And just so you know, whatever you think just happened back there…didn’t.”
He wasn’t about to speculate. He just grinned innocently. She turned on her heel and kept going down the street with a swing in her hips that turned his blood into honey.
When they reached the end of the main drag, he guided her left, down the street that ran along the edge of the beach. It was much darker there, and less crowded. It was also much quieter. He led her past a few more clusters of idle hookers and finally crossed over toward a bar on a small promontory punctuating the end the beach.
There was an open air patio area with small, plastic beach chairs and tables. It was lit only by torches set at each of the patio’s corners. Palm fronds and orchids hung over railing that only ran on two sides. A new moon scattered sparks across the water like a dying brush fire. A few blocks behind them a whole other planet was turning on the same axis.
Three people sat at a corner table, conversing over drinks in some Scandinavian language. Blond hair and beet red sunburns. Skye went for the table furthest away. In the torchlight, she seemed a natural part of the fabric of the night. Lance picked up her hand and rubbed his thumb across her palm. He felt her watching the gesture.
“So is this what you pay a bar girl for?” she asked. “So you can hold hands in a dark corner?”
“Queen of the bar girls,” he corrected. “Besides, you have beautiful hands. I’ve been thinking about touching them for them a long time now.”
She snickered. “Is that why you put your hand under my skirt this morning? Because you’re too shy to hold hands?”
Her hand was moving with his. Their hands became a surreal mirror of two bodies exploring each other.
“Actually,” he said slowly, “yes. I’m not as shy as your husband, though.”
She started to laugh. “Oh, but he’s…”
Lance held up his finger to cut her off. “Let’s avoid any topics that might cause me to say anything to put you in a bad mood.”
Her eyes narrowed and one side of her opulent mouth curled into a wry smile. She nodded, but more to herself than him. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing you bought and paid for me,” she said. “Now you don’t have to be witty or impressive, and you can pretty much do whatever you want with me until sunrise.”
“Sunrise?” he looked at her face. It wasn’t enough she was so beautiful, but there was something about her features that struck him…he searched for the right word…necessary, as if the air wasn’t fully complete without her face hanging in it. “So is that when it all ends?”
“If your manicurist has anything to say about it,” she said with wry sarcasm.
“Dani’s just a friend,” Lance insisted weakly.
“Mm hm. A friend who watches you like a hawk.”
“She’s just a friend. It’s not like we’re married,” he said pointedly.
The rest of Skye’s mouth curled into the smile while her eyes flared and looked down. He let go of her hand and reached to untie the knot where her blouse was cradling her breasts. He kept his body between her and the group at the other table. She sat straight and calm, smiling back at him as her blouse hung open around the black lace bra overflowing with creamy mounds of flesh.
His large hand slid against her thigh, just above the knee, and he began kneading her thigh. With each squeeze, his hand edged a little higher.
“Still wondering how it’s all going to end?” he asked.
“Um…hunh. Kind of.” Her voice sounded thinner and a little distant. Her thighs opened, and Lance’s fingers spider walked toward her pussy.
“Kind of wondering that myself,” he said.
He was sure her upper thigh was the smoothest thing he’d ever touched. Heat began to simmer in his cock as his fingers slipped under her skirt and touched the edge of her panties. Her mound already felt flushed as his fingers brushed its shape. She was watching his face, a sense of surprise or maybe even relief as his fingers slid under her panties over her smooth pussy.
The tip of one finger traced the length of her slit, patiently stroking and drawing her slick honey forward. Lance saw her glance at the Scandinavians over his shoulder. Her pussy lips gradually thickened and grew hot and slippery. He worked his finger into her slit with calm insistence. Once he was deeply embedded, he drew his finger back and encircled her clit a few times with the tip before gently thrusting back inside.
A telltale push and flex of her breasts betrayed the deepening of her breath. Lance’s cock was growing thick and already nudging down his thigh and showing its shape in the loose drape of his pants.
“So…is this your…thing?” Skye worked at a steady tone. “Fingering women in public places like cafes and restaurants?”
She scanned the front of his pants where his distended cock strained at the material. She glanced over his shoulder at the other table. The volume of their conversation had dropped.
“I touched you this morning because it seemed at the time there might never be another chance. And I’m touching you now because there is.”
His finger curled inside her and Skye’s breath caught. She gripped his wrist with both hands, closed her eyes and rolled her hips against her seat. Each slip and thrust of Lance’s finger drew a fresh seepage of nectar from her smoldering core.
“You say it like you’re entitled.” She gnawed briefly on her bottom lip. Lance felt like the next two lives he had coming had just dropped off a cliff.
“Don’t you feel that way when someone lets you close enough to reach?”
“Is that what I did?”
He drew his hand from her pussy and traced her lips with the finger that had been inside her. He smeared her own juices across her mouth like a gloss and then kissed her so hard she whimpered into his mouth.
“Yes, you did,” he finally answered her question. “Maybe you didn’t mean to, but you did.”
Lance recognized the raw desire in her eyes. She ran her palm over the prodigious shape of his cock. His dome strained and seeped precum in a growing slick in the thin cotton. She rolled her fingertips over the dampness. He reached for her thigh, his finger searching for its rightful place again.
“What are you thinking now, Lance?”
“You don’t want to know, Skye. Trust me on that.”
“I won’t, but for now, get me out of here. Please.”
Lance drew her to her feet by the hand and led her off the patio onto the walkway to the beach. They paused at the sand to slip off their sandals. It was even darker on the sand, although there were still scattered torches providing scant illumination every several yards or so. Plastic lounge chairs and drink stands, umbrellas and sailboards, had been stacked up and locked down for the night.
As they started walking, Lance slipped his hand under Skye’s skirt and clutched her firm ass cheek. Her muscle flexed under his hand with each stride. She looped an arm around his waist, and with the other she fondled his imposing shank through his pants as they leaned into each other and walked.
Their progress in the sand was halting, as they kept trying to turn and kiss and walk at the same time. Lance could feel her wanting to ask him again. Part of him was dying to tell her everything that had gone through his mind from the moment he first saw her, but…the sand was still warm on the soles of their feet; the moon looked like a smudge of dying fire; the air felt like an electrical current running from his skin to hers.
What more was there supposed to be to say?
Finally Lance stopped and pulled her to him, crushing his mouth against hers. He gripped her taut ass and held her tightly while each tongue explored the other. Down between their bodies, Skye’s hand was trapped around his cock. He reached under her skirt and fed his hands the texture of her thighs and the firm resilience of her ass.
“What makes you think I don’t want to know?” she asked around his mouth.
“What I think is that you already do know. I think you know what I’m going to think before I do.” He pushed his tongue deeper into her mouth and gripped her as hard as he could. Their bodies were pressed so tightly her hand could barely move against the rigid shaft in his pants.
Then they caught the sound of a soft whimper. It would have been low enough to ignore, but they stopped to look at each other to be sure they’d both heard it. A few yards away, leaning against a stack of lounge chairs, was a man who might have been around sixty. It was difficult to see much detail, but he had a full head of curly, white hair. His shirt was open, displaying a robust paunchiness.
Kneeling in the sand in front of him was a much younger woman, probably in her early twenties. She was dressed like the bar girls, in a brief cocktail dress that was gathered around her waist, exposing a slender, softly rounded ass. The man’s pants were open, shoved carelessly past his balls, while the sawing motion of the young woman’s head left no question she was sucking his cock.
“Oh my god,” Skye hissed.
Lance uttered a low chuckle and playfully squeezed her ass.
The man looked up and spotted them, the young woman completely oblivious to all but his needful cock. He looked at Lance and Skye openly as he savored the pleasure of the pretty whore’s mouth. There was a distant look in his eye, like a terminal patient taking treatments he knew could never save him. But when he saw how Skye was caressing Lance’s immense erection through his pants, the man’s slack mouth drew into a leer.
Lance gripped Skye’s panties in both hands and pulled until the weakest seam ripped apart. There wasn’t much to tear, and they landed somewhere off in the sand beyond where they could see. There were other people on the beach, passing up and down, paying no more than passing attention to Lance and Skye or the old man and his young whore. They were nothing out of the ordinary on that Malaysian Peninsula moonscape.
Lance pulled Skye’s skirt up around her waist and reached between her thighs to massage her pussy. Her lips felt slick and distended. Her only response was a sudden gasp as the man with the whore watched every move. Lance nuzzled Skye’s neck while she yanked the drawstring on his pants.
“He has to be thinking you’re either my whore or my girlfriend,” he whispered to her.
“So which am I?” she whispered in reply.
Lance kept his answer to himself. He could barely look her in the eye until his ring and middle fingers pushed into her slick sheath and her steel eyes grew hazy.
“There’s a fat, old whoremonger watching you fuck my fingers,” Lance murmured. Skye purred and gripped his naked cock as his pants dropped to the sand. “He’s watching you…stroke me. He’s wishing he got lucky enough to be with a woman like you instead of…anyone else.”
Lance was oozing so much precum that Skye’s hand slipped along his hot length with ease. There was a tremor in her thighs as his fingers spread and probed her.
“Is that what you’d be thinking? If you were him? Watching me?”
“I am watching you,” Lance reminded her. “I don’t have to wonder at my luck.”
She grinned but he kissed her almost before he could see it. He didn’t care about the fat man or the occasional passerby. He kissed her as though it would be the last time, because he didn’t know if it would be, and kissing Skye felt like being inside someplace he belonged.
Before long, the man started grunting and grabbed the back of the young woman’s head as he came in her mouth. Lance and Skye reluctantly came apart and watched him spend himself. They laughed openly. Lance hurriedly yanked up his pants and they hurried on their way.
Skye was laughing and they kept stumbling against each other as they made their way further on. Suddenly she stopped walking and tugged Lance’s arm.
“There’s something I have to tell you.”
The look in her eye worried him. “You can tell me later. Or even not at all,” he said, pushing her blouse off her shoulders. Then he unclasped her bra. He took it off of her and tossed it on the sand the same way he had with her panties. He kissed her again and caressed her naked breasts with both hands. Her nipples were hot, pliant knots between his pulling fingers.
“God,” she exhaled, pulling away. “You can be so aggravating!”
“Yeah, I get that a lot.”
Suddenly he stopped, momentarily paralyzed. She was standing in the sand in nothing but the short, tight skirt she’d danced in alongside the awkward bar girls. The raven silk of her hair was mussed and her breasts looked proud and heavy. She was looking at him with a dark shimmer in her eyes and he couldn’t tell if she wanted to punch him or knock him down in the sand and ride him to Bhutan. There was something trancelike in seeing her there…like that…just then.
“Still wanna know what I’m thinking?” he asked.
“Great,” she almost spat. “Yeah, sure.”
“I was just thinking that if the night could burn, you’re the flame it would make.”
He gave her a chance to say something, but suddenly it just seemed as if she were looking past him. She started stalking toward him and grabbed him by the arm as she passed, tugging him along with her. As he turned to follow, he could see where she’d been looking.
At the edge of the beach was a public bathroom. It was a small, funky, freestanding cement hovel, and she was dragging him straight toward it. The door was hanging open and Skye groped for a light switch before shutting them inside. It stank of disinfectant from being hosed and scrubbed at the end of the day.
Skye shoved the bolt into place. When he leaned down to kiss her, she was already arching her face up toward his. Their lips collided in hunger while she gripped his shirt and tore it open, popping off all the buttons.
He shoved her skirt down over her hips while she untied his drawstring again. The tiny room filled with the sound of their anxious breath while the blunt tip of Lance’s cock kept rolling across the front of Skye’s sumptuous body. It was hard enough to fathom how beautiful she was in normal times, and at the moment it struck him as impossible. When she steadied her hands on his chest and rolled her hips as he gripped her thigh hard, high and on the inside, he almost felt as if he were standing beside himself.
Then he seized her, kissing her with all of his forceful need while her hands roamed his body. His chest crushed against her damp breasts while his pulsing cock rolled across her skin. He reached behind her, squeezing and separating the spheres of her ass. Skye suddenly yelped into his open mouth as his finger slipped along her flushed pussy lips and rolled over the taut bud of her rim.
There was a hand held water nozzle hanging on the wall between the toilet and sink. Skye reached over and yanked it off the bracket while they kissed. Then, stretching the hose out straight, she knelt down, dragging her other hand down the front of Lance’s body as she sank to her knees on the cement floor.
She curled her free hand around his thick stalk and began stroking him. She sprayed his cock and balls as she steadily massaged his flesh. Lance felt his head roll back and a strangled growl escape his throat when Skye aimed the spray against his heavy balls and enclosed his dribbling knob within her mouth.
Skye glazed the blunt end of Lance’s imposing cock with her mouth while she stroked from the base with her hand. The other hand kept the shower nozzle angled against his balls and into the cleft between his cheeks. He gasped deeply and squatted lower, allowing the spray to wash across his rim.
Lance wanted to crumple and explode at the same time. Skye looked delirious, yet driven in a way he’d never seen a woman look before. He was amazed, but not surprised. He’d known she was cut from a different fabric from the first time he saw her.
He felt his body begin to tense, every muscle standing out in clear definition as his cock leapt and twitched inside the swirling heat of Skye’s mouth. He knew she was to ready to swallow every frothing jolt his cock would give, but he reached down and slipped his hand around her throat to stop her. He didn’t hold her hard, just enough to let her know he had other plans.
She held his dripping dome in her mouth and gave him a quick, hard suck before releasing his flesh with a deliberate smack. She looked up at him with deadly serious eyes.
“I have to tell you something, Lance, and this time I really need you to listen.”
He guided her up with the hand on her throat, until she was standing, still holding his cock in one hand and the water nozzle in the other.
“He’s my ex,” she said clearly. Lance looked at her and blinked. “Just thought you ought to know,” she added.
“You know what, Skye?” he grinned. “Your timing sucks.”
She started to laugh but he kissed her. His tongue swept through her open mouth while she gripped his solid cock and stroked him. She finally wormed out of his grasp and bent over the sink, planting her feet wide apart and offering her flushed, wet slit.
“Fuck it, Mister,” she crooned. “This is what you bought and paid for.”
Lance ground his knob into the gap between her swollen sexlips. He pushed, entering her, opening her, gradually filling her with the broiling heat of his granite hard cock. He drew back slowly, then began to fuck her with long, measured strokes. The sensation was sheer opulence.
Skye groped for the nozzle below and aimed it upward to spray against the union of her pussy with Lance’s thrusting cock.
The growl that rose out of his body didn’t feel like his own voice. He started thrusting harder and faster, reaching under her beautiful, taut body to massage her warm, heavy breasts, to twist and pull her pebble-hard nipples.
Skye was forced to reach forward and plant one hand against the wall to keep her head from being rammed into the sink. She held the nozzle closer, increasing the pressure of the spray on both her clit and Lance’s cock.
She winced and the walls of her sheath contracted as she started to cum. Lance felt like an overload of sensation was coursing through her straight into him as she rolled her hips and ground hard on his steadily driving shaft. Lance tweezed her nipples harder now, almost to the point of pain. He started thrusting more desperately than ever as his cock shuddered with spasms.
She was breathless and Lance felt her losing her balance. Buried so deeply inside her, it caused him to lose his footing, too. They started to fall, but Lance caught her in time and took her backward along with him, ensuring that his body would break her fall.
Lying back on the hard cement floor, Lance gripped her naked body protectively. Nothing had ever compared with how it felt to have her wrapped up inside his arms.
“Lance.” She was still working for deep breaths.
“I know, Skye. I know.”
They finally gathered their wet, rumpled clothes and went out to lie naked in the sand under the new moon. Lance turned to face her and cradled her in his arms, brushing wet strands of hair from her face.
“I hate to freak you out, Lance, but I already knew what you were thinking when I asked you before.”
He leaned the few inches toward the face he could not look away from and kissed her with a slow river of hunger flowing through his veins.
“I know,” he finally sighed.
“Did you know what I was thinking?” she smiled.
“I didn’t have a clue.”
“Because when instinct only stands up once in a lifetime and won’t quit whispering at your soul, it’s not a bad idea to listen.”
He kissed the hollow at the base of her warm throat as she touched the back of his head.
“So this is how it all ends,” she asked, her breath coming in long, deep heaves that pushed her sweat covered breasts at him.
He looked at her as if for the first time and shook his head. “No,” he said. “This is the way it all begins.”