“Uptown funk you up...Uptown funk you up”

As soon as Melanie heard the Bruno Mars song coming from her phone, she knew immediately who was on the other end of the line.

“Vincenzo!”

“Happy Birthday, my love! I hope you don't have plans, I have a special night planned for you,” I respond when I hear her voice.

“Well... I did have plans. But since it's you asking, I think I can reschedule,” She retorts teasingly.

“Good. Be at my place at 8. Don't be late. You know I how much I hate waiting. Oh! And wear something nice.”

“Okay, Handsome. See you then. Love you!”

My name is actually Vincent, but she liked to bust my balls because of my unhealthy obsession with mob movies, and the fact that I'm proudly Italian American. Like Ray Liotta said in Goodfellas, “...all I ever wanted was to be a gangster.”

Melanie and I have been best friends since she asked to sit next to me on the bus during a seventh grade field trip. We were inseparable throughout high school. Where she went; I went. Where I went; she went. Movies, bike rides, parties, it didn't matter, we were together. It got to the point that even our close friends would ask if we were dating. One time, walking down the halls of our school, some random person just yelled out to us, “You two should fuck!”

And yet, we never did. We never dated, we never kissed, we never held hands. We just had a special bond.

Truthfully, I never understood it, either. She was what I'd call a “dime.” She stood at about 5'5”, had long golden hair that fell to the middle of her back, bright blue eyes that not even the clearest Caribbean waters could compare to, perky 36 B breasts, and an ass you could bounce a quarter off of. And there I was next to her. 5'7”, brown hair slicked back to the point of being a helmet, brown eyes, faint facial hair, and overweight.

After high school, we kept in touch. With every passing year, she got more beautiful. I had a couple of growth spurts, but my hair decided to migrate from the top of my head to my chin. I hadn't exactly lost weight, either. Luckily, she never seemed to care.

Some years after high school, when we were both in our mid-twenties, we went out together on a Friday night to sing karaoke at our local watering hole. The bar was on fire that night, and the two of us were singing like we were meant to be onstage. After many beers, and god knows how many shots, the KJ was shutting down, but being the loyal fans that we were, he allowed us to have the last two songs of the night. I closed with “I'm Yours” by Jason Mraz. The entire bar was clapping, and singing along, but my eyes locked onto hers. Our bond evolved that night. I took her back to my apartment, and to this day, I have never had the mind-blowing orgasms I had that night.

They say sex changes things. But not for us. We were still best friends, but now there was nothing we hadn't done together, and nothing we wouldn't do together. We weren't a couple, but we were meant for each other. All of our sexual “firsts” we did together.

The anticipation was killing me. I couldn't wait to see her. I glanced down at my watch for what felt like the hundredth time, “7:59”.

“God damn it,” I muttered to myself under my breath. “I knew she was gonna be late.”

Then the door bell rang. I looked down again, “8:00”.

“Of course...”

I answered the door wearing a tailored shark-skin suit, a forest green shirt, and a silk tie. When I saw Melanie, I felt under dressed. There she stood, her golden hair shining so brightly, I can only describe it as empyreal. She had obviously just had it done. It was usually straight, but today, it bounced off her shoulders in perfect waves. She had dark eye-liner that simultaneously made her look sultry, and caused her eyes to stand out more than they usually did. Her lips were a bright red that instantly caused me to get aroused. Her dress was a shimmering black spaghetti strap that contrasted with her creamy skin, and hugged every curve, and she wore a matching pair of four-inch heels. On her ears hung perfectly white pearls, and around her neck, into her cleavage was the companion necklace.

“Ah, Madonna!” I exclaimed.

“Hey, handsome,” she greeted me, her perfect smile tying the entire outfit together. “So tell me more about this special night.”

“Can't do that. It's a surprise.”

I took her by the hand, led her to the couch, and proceeded to the kitchen to make her favorite cocktail, Jack and Cherry Coke. I gave her the drink, and glanced again at my watch. Plenty of time.

We made small talk of the typical “How's work? How's the family?” variety as she finished her drink. One more glance at my watch showed that it was 8:30.

“Time to go,” I stated, matter-of-factly, as I walked to the door and opened it for her.

As she came to the door way, she gasped in shock as she saw the stretch limo, and the chauffeur holding the car door open.

“Just for you, Beautiful.”

I led her to the open door, and smirked as I watched the chauffeur give Melanie the “once over,” then slid in after her. We made more small talk and had another cocktail before the limo pulled up in front of La Vigna, her favorite restaurant.

“Oh my God, Vincenzo, you didn't have to do this!”

“I'd do anything for you.”

As we walked in the restaurant, all eyes were on her. Nobody, man or woman, could touch her radiance that night. We spent hours at our table drinking wine, eating, bantering about our lives, and reminiscing about old times. The meal came to an end, both of us not quite sober, and I escorted her back to the limo, and we rode around New York City before heading back to my apartment, putting down a few more cocktails along the way. We exited the limo, I tipped the driver, and gave him a nod.

As we entered my apartment, Melanie exclaimed, “Thank you so much! That was the most wonderful birthday, ever!”

I closed the door behind us, wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her into to me, gazing deep into her sapphire eyes before lightly kissing her lips.

“Now it's time for your surprise.”

I spun her around and told her to close her eyes, and not to move. As she waited, I pulled a large kerchief from my pocket, folded it into a strip, and wrapped it around her closed eyes, tying it just snug behind her head. I then pulled her hands behind her back, removed my tie, and bound her hands together.

“Vincent?” she asked, nervousness apparent in her voice.

“Trust me, my love,” I answered.

I led her to my bedroom, to the very edge of my queen bed, and began to kiss her, lightly at first, then pulling her into me and applying more pressure, using my tongue to explore her mouth. She responded in kind, and I could feel her breathing getting heavy as her chest began to rise and fall more rapidly. I pulled away and all she could mutter was, “Wow...”

“I hope you enjoy your present,” I said, then began to kiss her chin, and down to her neck, lightly biting her every so often as I neared her shoulder, each bite encouraging a little whimper, or gasp, between the heavy panting. I slid the straps off of her shoulders, letting the dress fall as far as it could, considering her hands were tied behind her back. As it fell, the perfectly flesh of her breasts was revealed to me, and my arousal was instant. No matter how many times I saw them, it was as though it was the first time.

“So...far...” her breaths making it difficult for her to speak.

I began to kiss back across her collarbone to the other shoulder, while running my thumbs gently over her already erect nipples, eliciting a shudder throughout her entire body, before returning to her chest, leaving light pecks and licks between her breasts. As I reached them, I lightly bit my way to her nipples, licking, sucking and nibbling on them, while allowing my hands to explore the rest of her body, inching lower and lower, until I felt the warmth of her thighs underneath my finger tips. The moans escaping her lips sounding like the harps of angels to my ears.

“Please don't stop... Please. Don't. Ever. Stop,” she begged.

At that moment, I took hold of her thighs, and lifted them out from under her, causing her to fall backwards onto the bed. Her breasts swaying in a perfect rhythm as she landed, her dress hiking up just enough to reveal a sheer pink thong, her exquisitely waxed pussy just barely visible through the thin material, inviting me to approach. I wanted to dive right in, but with all the will power I could muster, I placed her calves on my shoulders, and begin my descent toward that gorgeous pink thong, and the treasure that lies beneath, my tongue leaving trails down her legs, a growing wet spot forming on her panties, and her panting getting deeper.

“I don't intend to,” I say, as I wink at her, forgetting for a second the blindfold.

When I finally reached the area between her legs, the thong practically dripping, her musk filling the air, more enticing than the finest perfume, I began to lightly caress her through the panties. The sudden touch after so much teasing causing her jump in both shock and pleasure.

“Mmmm... more... please...”

Hearing her beg always made me weak in the knees, but I did as she asked, moving from lightly petting her mound, to applying circular pressure to her engorged clit through the panties. After a few minutes, her hips started to gyrate from the sensation, and she begged for more.

“Oh God... Please...Please...Don't stop... I think I'm going to cum... Keep going...”

I pressed harder, her moans grew louder, her gyrations became larger, and soon, she screamed, “I'm cumming, Vincent! Don't stop!”

I continued rubbing her as she came, her panties completely soaked through, her scent spurring me forward.

“Oh my God...Jesus...That was amazing!” she exclaimed between inhalations.

“Oh... We're not finished yet...”

Before she could recover from her orgasm, I peeled the thong down her legs, and plunged my tongue deep within her swollen sex, relishing the taste of her cum. This was my paradise. There was no place I would rather be than between her legs, tasting her fluids, bringing her unending pleasure.

She gasped for air as my nose brushed against her sensitive nub and my tongue lashed in and out of her like a man starved, every so often going lower and gently probing her tight rosebud, and going higher to lick a letter of the alphabet onto her clit. Her hips began to buck to each side, and up and down, and her moans had become screams of pleasure and passion.

“Eat me, Vincent! Please! Suck on my clit!”

Only happy to oblige, I began to suck on her and she lifted her hips to meet my mouth, her juices flowing out of her like fine wine, dripping down my chin. I could tell she was getting close, not only from the amount of fluid, but because she had no problem telling me between gasps.

“I'm gonna cum... again... please... make me cum...”

I focused my oral attention solely on her clit, then, and plunged two fingers deep inside her, her velvet walls sucking them in as though they were meant to be there. As I licked and sucked outside, I curved my fingers up to find her g-spot, and at that moment, her hips bucked straight up, knocking me back.

“FUCK! I'M CUMMING! I'M CUMMING!” She screamed, as a stream of fluid shot out of her beautiful vagina, covering my chin and ruining my shirt. She shot two more streams, and finally collapsed on the bed, exhausted, fulfilled, and amazed.

“Jesus... I've never squirted before. I can't believe you did that,” she said quietly, the afterglow, and the exhaustion setting in quickly.

“I know, Babe,” I responded. “Happy Birthday.”