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“When you said you wanted this to be not so personal, you really meant that you wanted it to remain quite anonymous.”
“That’s- well- yes. And all this is starting to itch. The mask. And the dress. I’d like to get out of both. Plus, uh, I don’t think I can do this with you if we don’t have some level of dark. Dark is supposed to be romantic, isn’t it?”
“Not if I accidentally knee you in the face.”
“Do you have a problem with that? A track record of errant knees?”
“No.” I smile against her hair as I march into the room, eschewing the light no matter how much I’d like to see my goddess’ lovely creamy skin. I suppose I’m also okay with relying on my other senses. Touch, taste, smell. They should more than make up for the hampered sight.
I’m sure they’re already elevated, because my whole body feels like it’s on high bloody alert. I can smell the delicate lilac scent of my goddess’ perfume. Her lips, when I claim them again, are like the caramel sauce she argued was the best flavor all twisted and blended into soft serve. And touch? Her fingers are playing at my neck, tangling in my hair. She’s angling her body, pressing herself into me, and I swear I can feel her nipples pebbling through that dress.
She moans when I set her down on the bed. Immediately, she turns over and offers me the zipper of her dress. I can see that much in the dark, her back facing up, and it doesn’t take me an hour to sit there and figure out what she wants me to do. I actually process that right away, which is saying something for my addled brain. My fingers find the zipper, which is hidden so as not to ruin the appearance of the dress, and I gently start peeling her out of it.
“Careful,” she whispers. “It’s vintage. I’m not sure if my granny purchased it or if it might be on loan.”
“I’ll be careful.” My fingertips brush against the warm, smooth, naked skin of her back and I’m now harder than two hard logs.
I finish with the zipper and slip my hands around her waist, helping her up as she pushes herself into a sitting position. We’re careful with the dress, both of us peeling away fabric until it’s pooling at her waist, then her thighs, then her ankles. When I pull it off, I set it carefully on the floor somewhere- yeah, I know, but it’s dark for me to safely try and find a chair or one of the dressers. Breaking my toe would hardly be sexy.
“Now you,” my goddess commands.
She leans forward, finding my chest with her fingertips and brushing her hands down until they flip open the button of my pants, then peel the zipper down. The sounds of her undressing me echo through the room, so much hotter for it being so dark and my eyes so poorly adjusted that I can’t see a thing yet. Her hands are like hot silk as they guide my pants down my legs.
I have to step out of them, and I quickly peel off my socks.
“Boxers too,” she commands.
I go for it, peeling them down my legs. I think I might be blushing even though it’s blacker than- well- midnight in here.
“Condom?” she asks. “Please tell me you have one or I’m going to have to get the lights on after all, get dressed, and leave.”
“I have some in the nightstand.”
“They’re good? Not expired or anything?”
“Good lord. I don’t know how to take that.”
“Take it as someone who asks embarrassingly tough, responsible questions.”
“They’re good. I promise. I can turn on the light and you can check them if you want.”
“No, I believe you,” she says after a few seconds. “Okay. I’m taking off my mask.”
I slip mine off too, glad to have it off my face. My goddess was right. It was getting itchy and annoying. I find the nightstand by fumbling my way along the edge of the bed until I bump into it hard with my knee. I wince but pull open the top drawer and reach inside for the box. My fingers find a few foil wrapped packets and I grab one out. I tear it open and roll the condom on. I still can’t believe I’m doing this. I was serious when I said that I’d had a few similar experiences to what my goddess was describing. Mostly relationships that went south for one reason or another, or short-lived dating stints that didn’t work out. Never this.
This is a first for me, and if I’m going to have this first, at over thirty years of age, then I’m glad it’s with her, my bold, sensual, lush goddess who fearlessly initiated this entire thing. My grandma is probably wondering where the heck I went. If she saw me duck out, chasing after a woman wearing the most incredible gown after she’d seen us talking, she’d probably surmise exactly where I went, and if my grandma knowing what I’m doing- I’m not sure I could live that down.
