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But this was just pure fantasy. We were in the middle of a great art gallery having a good time looking at the works around us, and we had to abide by the rules of civilized society. Yet, my body was boiling over with sexual desire. I wanted Ricky so badly it hurt inside and out. I was sure that he was going to be the first, if he wanted to be. I wasn’t sure how I’d come to this decision so quickly. It wasn’t really a decision; it was a feeling. And if I really searched myself, I would have realized that I started feeling this way soon after I met him. There was just that unbelievable attraction. And now I knew what that attraction meant. He was supposed to be my first.
I wasn’t sure how to bring up the fact that I was a virgin. I didn’t know if I should have just told him, or maybe waited until things got to that point. How would he react? I was twenty-five. There were few people my age who were still virgins walking around. And Ricky was nine years my senior. Would he want to be my first? It might have freaked him out for all I knew. That was the last thing I wanted to do. He might be so shocked that he decided that he didn’t even want to pursue a romance with me.
Cool it down. You need to relax. Nothing is happening yet. So far, it is just a kiss.
“Well, that was quite amazing,” Ricky said. I was surprised that he commented on it, but I had to agree it was the single best kiss of my entire life. Wow, it felt so sweet. I wanted it to never end and just keep going. I wondered if we could just walk around making out for the duration of our time in the art gallery. I doubted it. They probably would have frowned on that and accused us of drinking too much champagne.
“That it was,” I said. I smiled sweetly at Ricky and he reciprocated. He reached out and gently took my hand in his and we continued our journey.
We looked at several more pieces of art. We saw a few more paintings—some expressionistic, some abstract, some landscapes, some portraits, and some that reminded me of what the most perfect looking tie dye might resemble. If I could put it on a t-shirt, I most definitely would have. After that we also looked at some clay sculptures.
“This would be perfect for Zoe,” I said picking up one that was a picture of a father holding his child on a porch swing. Ricky smiled at it and nodded in agreement.
“That it would be,” he said. “I’ll keep that in mind before I leave.”
I saw several pieces of art during our walk through that I would have loved to purchase, but even with Ricky’s generous salary that he was paying me, most of them were still well outside of my price range. Thus was the sad existence of the struggling artist; I was obsessed with art and spent most of my time creating it, but I couldn’t afford to buy other people’s art.
We eventually finished our tour through the gallery and Ricky ended up buying that sculpture after all. “I’ll put it in Zoe’s room and she can look at it when she gets back, maybe it will be one of the last things she sees when she goes to bed at night.”
When we arrived back at Ricky’s place, I sat down on the couch while he poured us both a glass of merlot. I loved merlot. Of all the wines, it was the one that really tingled my senses. Ricky sat down beside me and we just looked at each other in comfortable silence for several seconds. The silence in the room should have been awkward, but it felt cozy and comfortable somehow.
As I sipped the wine, I found myself inching closer to Ricky. I wanted him badly. He was the sexiest man I’d ever met and the only man who had ever made me feel this hot and bothered just being around him. And I felt this way all the time.
“So, did you have a good time at the gallery?” Ricky asked.
“I did,” I said. “You seemed to be enjoying yourself and you have an excellent eye for art. You have a strong attention to detail.”
“It goes with the territory of firefighting,” Ricky said. “Noticing what others may not is crucial in those situations.”
“Yeah, but I think it’s something else. I know you have the soul of an artist inside of you. There seems to be something there that for whatever reason was never really nurtured and fostered.”
“I don’t know,” Ricky said. “I guess I never really gave it much thought. I grew up in a very practical household. My dad was a bit of a hard ass. He worked the same job he hated for so many years and he always came home feeling the same way. He was miserable and he wasn’t able to enjoy the times when he wasn’t there. But he said you go to work every day and do your job because it is called being responsible. But he didn’t believe that one should waste their time on dreams or on doing anything you really wanted to do. He always said that if you are having fun, it’s not work, and you could never make a living that way. And for a long time I believed him. So, I kept my artistic ambitions to the side. When I graduated from high school, I went to work.”
“You went to college, later?” I asked.
“I did,” Ricky replied. “But I never really knew why I was there. I got a communications degree which I’ve never done anything with. It seemed to be something interesting and it kept me invested enough to slug through and graduate, but I had no idea what I wanted to do with it. With a college degree you can get an entry level job just about anywhere, so I moved from job to job for a while until I found my calling in firefighting.”
“What led to that?” I asked.
“Well, I was going to apply at the police academy. I’d heard that it was a good job, good pay, and great benefits.
But on the way there, I drove past a house that was on fire. I saw firemen rescuing people from a burning building. And the day before that I’d gotten a speeding ticket from a cop who did not seem to be enjoying life. One job seemed dull and the other seemed that it really made the most difference. So, I decided to give it a shot. I’d had a dream of being a firefighter as a kid, but that’s one of those dreams all kids have. It’s like wanting to be a football or baseball player. Most of those dreams never come true for most kids.”
I was sitting right beside Ricky now and he suddenly put his arm around me and pulled me closer as he talked. I loved being right there beside him. His warmth wrapped me up and held me close. I felt so safe, so secure with him. I’d never felt so safe with any man before this.
“That’s a beautiful story,” I said. I was staring up into his big, beautiful eyes. He was so immaculate. I wanted to just reach out and hold him tightly to me, to lean into him and let our bodies become one together.
He leaned down feeling the moment and kissed me softly on the mouth. His touch was like fire jolting through my body filling me full of little shocks of pure bliss. The lips encompassed mine, wrapping around them, and then slipping past them slowly as he released the kiss and dove in for another. This happened repeatedly back and forth. Our bodies were warming up, the passion growing stronger, greater between us.
His tongue entered my mouth and massaged mine, sliding, twisting around me, past me, and through me to catapult my own lust to new heights. I loved the way his mouth felt against mine, as if it had always belonged there.
His tongue slid out and waved gently against my lips, and then again as I held my mouth open waiting for his sweet return. He did not keep me waiting long as his parted my lips with his sensuality and I allowed his tongue to slither back inside my verbal center.
His hands moved through my hair, brushing it back at first before getting entangled in the long, wavy strands as he waved his hand through me. It felt so good. He was nurturing me, taking care of me, and initiating me into a new world. I’d been kissed plenty of times before, but never anything like this. No, this was a whole new world of wonder that had been opened up for me. It was perfect, like the best of all parts of my catalogue of fantasies that I’d put together over time. And now they were all coming together to create a fusion of bliss that I was only touching the iceberg of.
His lips brushed against my mouth, moving down my neck, and then pausing at the nape, lingering where it met the collar bone. Then he moved a little lower and kissed me in that little groove against the bone. His kisses were soft and warm. His mouth was so hot against my skin. Every other kiss was given the added bonus of his tongue sliding against my neck.
I was getting so turned on. I was wetter than I’d ever been. I could feel myself practically bursting with lust, gushing between my legs. I was calling out for him, whipping my pheromones into a frenzy that was bound to titillate every sense he had. I could already smell my own scent rising up and mixing with his. He smelled so good. There was something nurturing and caring about his scent, but it was infused with a dominant sensation as well.
