A three dimensional transparent cube, a house with the curly rings of smoke coming from the chimney, smiling daisy flowers in the sweeping meadow, and the continuous barn house with an “X” on the front of the barn door. I am becoming an expert artist as I randomly doodle on various pages of my note book, which is now more of a sketch pad. Seminars can be so boring, this one proves to be no different and I am at best, barely engaging with the workshop. The first few speakers are older men with rather stoic speaking styles that hardly leave the ground. One panelist is female, early forties maybe, and is scheduled to close the workshop and answer some questions from the audience. While she covers similar topics as her counterparts, she has a playful, almost coquettish delivery style that truly rejuvenates the room. I immediately take note of her sense of humor and how she tends to pull her brunette waves behind her ear when she smiles. At the end of the workshop, I surprise myself as I raise my hand to pose a question to her based on the information that she provides. Her answer is clear and informative, I think…because as she talks directly to me, I become a bit distracted by how pretty she is. Surviving the full day seminar, my thoughts are on her as I head home, and I wonder what it would be like to talk to her privately.

Seminar organizers use email addresses to comprise their mailing lists for future workshops, and within a month, I receive an alert of a workshop that is held in my area. I would normally bypass the focus, but when I notice that the same female presenter is scheduled to speak, I quickly add my name to the registration list.

The workshop proves interesting and I am happy to see how the keynoter, once again, maintains the interest of the audience as she expertly fields questions. Standing behind a podium this time, her petite frame barely makes it over five feet and four inches tall. Despite her stature, her presence is commanding and a thunderous round of applause erupts as she concludes her presentation. The roar permeates the room and seeps through the air vents when she offers a feminine wave as she exits the stage. I navigate through the congested lobby on my way out, and I see what looks like a brief, although opportune time to introduce myself to her. I walk over to her while she ends her conversation with someone and am met with smiling chestnut eyes and a pearly smile as I readily extend my hand to hers.

“Hello, great seminar today! My name is Trinity and I just want to say how informative your presentation was.”

“Why thank you, and please call me Melanie, it’s surely a pleasure meeting you.”

“I must admit that this is a related field for me and I truly learned a lot from your lecture. I should warn you that I may have more questions as I go along.”

“By all means, feel free to reach out anytime. Here, take my card, and keep in touch!”

“Will do, and thanks again.”

“Don't mention it.”

Melanie crosses my mind several times over the next couple of days and I look for an excuse to contact her. I send an email to her just to cement our exchange the previous week: 

Hello Melanie,

I hope that this email finds you well and smiling. I just wanted to provide my contact information, as it occurred to me that I didn't leave my card with you. I hope that you are navigating this weather with some success. Please find my contact information below.

Regards,

Trinity.

Within an hour, I receive her reply:

 Trinity,

Thank you so much for this email, I was hoping to hear from you. I have been asked to speak on a topic that could use your expertise and I was wondering if we could consult and discuss it further. Perhaps over lunch? My treat of course, let me know if that works for you.

Take care,

Melanie.

Melanie and I live two states apart and coordinate a date and time to meet for lunch the following week. New Jersey is a halfway point between us and she suggests the Grand Lux Café in Paramus. The décor is upscale and the marble floors and hand blown glass fixtures burst with quality themed Venetian accents. The menu follows suit and reads like a creation from the best Italian trattorias and French bistros in Europe. She claims our table before I arrive, and as I enter, she allows the smile that hangs in the corners of her mouth to expand across her coral lips. The setting and the exchange of friendly emails over the last couple of weeks put me well at ease with her, as I return her smile with one of my own.

The handshake quickly morphs into a soft hug and my nose pulls in the floral scent of her hair as we embrace. Her peach colored silk blouse is as soft as her hand as she presses into me, and looks great against her ivory complexion.

“Thank you so much for coming. How was the traffic on the way down?”

Down...

“Oh no problem, my pleasure. The ride down was fine, it’s my drive home in rush hour traffic that will crush me.”

“Yes, I know what you mean, I am in the same boat going home myself. Shall we get started…?”

Munching on spinach and cheese dip as Melanie enjoys her omelet with tomato, lunch is productive and interesting to say the least. We consult about her next presentation, share insight and ideas about our fields and compare notes on who we both know in key places. Time clearly gets away from us and when I glance at my cell phone, I am surprised to see the time say 5:21 PM.

“Will you look at the time? I-95 and the Merritt Parkway will be like a parking lot at this hour.”

“Damn, you’re right! How about we have a cocktail? I know a great place twenty minutes west from here and it's happy hour now.”

“Good idea, and sounds better than waiting in traffic, let’s go.”

While I follow behind her in the quiet of my SUV, I replay our luncheon. Melanie is warm, friendly and engaging and though I consider myself to be a strictly heterosexual woman, I can easily see how any man can find her very sexy and appealing.

We arrive at the Red Stone Tavern and the crowd consists of other licensed professionals like ourselves, full of business suits and business cards, networking and being social.

“This is a nice place Mel, do you come here often?”

“Yup, I’m from South Jersey, this is my neck of the woods.”

“Oh wow, nice.”

Mel enjoys a spicy bloody Mary, I order a fuzzy navel and we talk quietly at a corner table. As we enjoy our drinks, the professional side of our conversation begins to relax. Melanie shares that she’s been happily married for almost twenty years, is a mother of two, and lives an overall happy life. I sip my drink and share personal details about my life as well, and we realize how much we really have in common. After my second drink, I’m sure that the traffic subsides, and I reluctantly bid Melanie goodbye and head home. Despite the car radio being on, I am lost in my thoughts about her during my drive. Her femininity, her smell, and how attractive I find her. It’s been years since I have thought about a woman in a sexual way, but I can’t deny the pull I feel towards her.

What color bra goes with a peach silk blouse? What kind of panties does she like? What scent was that in her hair?

I arrive home and after I undress in the bathroom, I toss my moist panties into the hamper.

Wait, what….?

Over time, professional emails are more personal and frequent. Ultimately, we segue into text messages and phone calls a few times per week, and she becomes quite a good friend. Ultimately, she discloses that she is bisexual and that while her husband is permissive of her sexual desires, she is discreet with the female lover that she has had for years now. I shakily reconfirm my heterosexuality to her, but disclose my own past sexual experiences with two different women that I had while in my late teens and early twenties.

Melanie invites me to a banquet dinner that she and her husband attend. Her husband is a confident and handsome man, and seemingly a good fit for her. I can't help but wonder how much he must enjoy having her in bed and exploring her body. After the banquet, we have dessert and drinks at her home and her husband soon retires to bed, citing an early rise the next morning. Melanie and I remain on her couch and now with my shoes off, I tuck my stocking laden legs under me as I sip Moscato. Seated five feet from me, her bare feet are pale and her toenails are painted a deep burgundy. I feel the alcohol coursing through my central nervous system and it makes my skin warmer by the second.

Melanie swallows her last sip of Cabernet and looks at me while she refills her glass. As she pours her drink, I can see her lipstick print on the glass where her lips were.

I want to take her glass and place my lips on that lipstick spot and taste her smile.

“You don’t think about women in a sexual way anymore, Trin?”

Tension.

“...No, my experiences were great, but it was merely a passing phase. I haven’t desired a woman in over fifteen years, Mel.”

Until you, right now…

“Oh ok, I find that having that outlet really helps me balance things at home, I enjoy it fully.”

“I can understand that for sure, and you are lucky to have such an understanding husband.”

“As long as I am discreet and keep it to women only, that’s our deal.

Also, I am very careful, I really make sure of that. He’s never met a lover of mine and he is crystal clear about not wanting to.”

“That makes sense.”

What doesn't make sense however, is why my nipples are hard. Why do I feel so damn aroused and tingly? Why do I want her to touch me, or better yet, let me touch her?

As I dressed for this banquet, I was sure to select lacy panties. Date panties. Sex panties. I want her to see them. To touch them. To slide them off of me. As much as I'd like to blame my desires on an inebriated state of mind right now, I was sober when I got dressed.

Damn, she looks so soft and good enough to eat.

More tension.

“Trin…?”

“…Yes?”

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, fine…why do you ask?”

“Well, you spaced out on me for a minute and I asked if you wanted to stay over in the guest bedroom instead of driving home tonight, the kids won't be home until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Aw thanks for offering, but I’m fine to get home.”

“We have been drinking, and I hope that you will help me finish this bottle too, so I insist that you stay over.”

“I really don't want to impose Mel, honestly…”

“Are you serious? My husband would insist as well if he weren't already snoring. It’s settled now and I'll get you something to sleep in after this next drink. Let's toast to our friendship.”

"To friendship."

The thought of having her personal clothing against my body makes me throb and the tingles intensify between my legs.

“When was the last time you saw your friend…?”

“Which friend?”

“Your um…lover?”

“Three weeks ago, why do you ask?”

Silence.

Why am I asking her this? Why do I even care? I haven't thought about a woman sexually in years, yet…my nipples get harder with each rise and fall of my chest.

“It’s been forever since I've…engaged in that.”

“Well, like most things, once you have done it, you never forget how to do it, or how good it feels.”

Melanie places her glass down on the coffee table and slides over to me. I struggle to even make eye contact with her as she closes the space between us. I sit up straighter on the sofa, and try to sober up while I smooth my skirt down over my legs.

Even closer to me.

Knee to knee with me now, she places her soft hand on my leg and gently traces circles on my thigh. The lighting in the room seems lower than it did twenty minutes ago and I feel every inhibition exit from me as I enjoy her touch.

Melanie gently cups both of my breasts and rolls her thumbs over the fabric that strains to cover my hard nipples. I am embarrassed that I respond so easily to her and look down at her wine colored toes as I try to compose myself and take in what is happening.

“Can I touch you like this?”

“…yes.”

“Do you like it?”

“….yes.”

“Show me you like it…”

There is no doubt that I want to devour every inch of her and I shakily extend my right hand to touch her left breast and am pleased to feel that her nipples are just as hard as mine. As soon as I caress her, the familiarity, the softness, and the femininity, all comes back in a rush. Something happens deep inside of me that I cannot describe, and probably shouldn't be explained anyway.

I lean in close to her face and rub her nose against mine as I send my tongue out in search of hers. A few feather like kisses on her lips and I feel her body relax under my fingers. I slide my hands down her back, under her blouse and I unhook her bra, catching her mounds in my hands as they spill free. I roll both of her nipples between my thumb and forefinger as she moans into my mouth, which is still clamped on hers.

The arch in her back conveys the intensity and I wiggle my right hand down between us, and slowly part her knees. I gently creep my fingers up her thigh and to her soft spot. My hand touches her lace panties, my thumb slides the crotch aside and I send my fingers inside of them like an intruder in a pitch black room.

Kissing her. Caressing her. Fingering her.

“Mmmm…”

She likes it.

I break the kiss and slowly bite down her neck until I reach her sternum, and I quietly pull her right nipple between my hungry lips, flicking my tongue across her areola. I work my flattened palm against her Mons pubis, I curl my fingers deeper and tell her insides to “come here” with my middle finger. I nuzzle my face between her darkening breasts and suck each nipple firmly. Left nipple. Right nipple. Melanie responds by grinding on my hand and pressing my mouth harder against her globes, squeezing me closer to her.

I know what she wants.

I withdraw my hands from her moist core and her breasts, and slink down onto the floor on my knees directly in between her limbs. I caress her legs and send my hands up her skirt to rescue her panties and remove them. She lifts her ass up off of the couch and allows me to slide her panties down her legs and off of her feet. I use this opportunity to briefly cradle and massage her feet in my hands before I return to her thighs. As she sheds her panties, the smell of her sex infiltrates my nose and arouses me even further. The first of many moans escape my throat as I feel my own tender walls lubricate.

“Fuck Mel, you smell so good, I can't wait to taste you…”

I part her legs. Wide. Unapologetic. Not shy. I swipe at her opening with my fingers, collect some of her nectar, and insert my fingers into her waiting and open mouth.

“Taste it.”

She hungrily sucks my fingers, and cleans them thoroughly before she releases them back to me. I bend my head down and kiss her inner thighs softly, inching closer to her pulses. I use both thumbs to spread the lips that cover her opening and line my nose just above her clitoris. My tongue dances at her entrance as I nudge her bud from side to side with my lips. Heated breath whisper promises to her clit that my mouth delivers and I feel her body clench tight. My moans are silenced inside of her pussy as she grabs fists full of my hair, and pulls me to her.

The contrast of our bodies is striking. Her Ivory skin against my Ebony. Swirled. Mel adjusts the weight of her body around my tongue and opens her legs wider for me, and her hard clit encourages me to lick her deeper. I slurp at her soft wet lips with my broad and needy tongue, and I can taste the change in her juices that tell me she is getting close to orgasm.

Not yet.

My chocolate hands grab her vanilla ass cheeks, and spread them with each hand. I raise her ass off of the couch and crane my neck lower to wantonly munch on her asshole. I rim her deep and lovingly and reassure her that she tastes just as delicious there too, as I snake my tongue inside of her sphincter as far as it will go. This surprises her and her legs go limp over my shoulders. As she claws at my scalp, causing tension on my follicles, her thighs start to shake, and her moans turn into low growls.

“Please, I can't hold it much longer Trin…it feels so fucking good.”

“Show me you like it….”

I replace my tongue with a mining finger that I bury in her asshole, and I gently thrust inside of her anus. Exploring it. Violating it at times. I use my left hand to pull back her hood, fully expose her button, and softly nibble around her entire clitoris.

Her sphincter seizes around my finger and causes me to withdraw, and once again I offer my digit to her to clean off. She softly sucks her naughty bits from my soiled finger without hesitation, and greedily swallows her own remnants.

My hands join my mouth as I work her pussy over and I rake her clit with my teeth and fill her cunt with two fingers. I have her pussy fully exposed for me and I feel her body tense even more as I hold her legs in place, and finger her harder.

“Do you like being my hand puppet, Mel?”

“….fuck, here it comes!”

She was right.

A few more thrusts of my fingers into her vagina and Melanie makes a puddle into my mouth. I enjoy the taste of her salty sweetness and the feel of her hot liquid as it drizzles down my wrist. I lightly brush my lips against her tender pussy lips as she calms and the room begins to slow down.

Post orgasmic bliss weighs heavily on her and she closes her eyes to enjoy her sated spasms. It was at this second that I sense Mel’s husband standing in the door way of the living room. I freeze before I turn around, and I recall Mel’s words to me about their deal. Her discretion. His rules. All of this now disregarded in his own home. I brace myself for a confrontation as I slowly and reluctantly turn around to face him.

In the low light of the room, the overwhelming and laden smell of sweet pussy in the air hangs above and around us. I see her husband who stands in his boxer shorts, with his eyes fixed. He is slowly, deliberately, stroking his hard and exposed cock, with a thick stream of pre cum dangling from the tip…