Page 13 of Dirty Diana
His shirt was already unbuttoned so I slipped it off his shoulders and let it drop to the floor. This was exactly what I wanted, arms that I didn’t recognize, rippled and strong, that came without having to sit through all the boring gym stories a boyfriend would tell you.
I traced his unfamiliar tattoo, some kind of constellation on the inside of his biceps, and I heard his breath catch. He liked the way I touched him. I unbuttoned his pants and slipped them off his hips. I was right. He was naked underneath and fully erect, and bigger than I expected. I held him in my hands and stroked him, taking my time. The tip of his penis was wet and so I told him, “Not so fast. Slow down.” His whole body trembled when I said this, like he was fighting to obey.
“You can come closer.” I tell him to take off my skirt. “But you can’t use your hands.” He looked confused for a second, then totally eager, and then he focused in on me. I was wearing my black cocktail miniskirt. There was no button or zipper; all he needed to do was get down on his knees and use his teeth.
He bit my skirt at the top and peeled it off, down to my feet. I slipped out of my heels and when I did, he was suddenly the perfect height—kneeling in front of me, his mouth lined up with the hem of my underwear. He tried to reach inside, but I batted his fingers away. So he used his mouth and when my underwear fell to the floor, he couldn’t help but return his lips to me.
I let him lick up my inner thighs, spreading me open and slipping histongue inside me. He circled my clit and it felt so good I pushed his head into me for even more pressure. He got every signal I sent and sucked gently, then harder as I moaned in approval.
I curled my toes and told myself this is our one and only night together, so let’s take it slow.
I pulled his face away from me and he looked up at me kind of pleading, waiting for my next move. He was breathing heavy and his erection was throbbing, like it was reaching toward me and happy to touch any square inch of my body as long as it could press against my skin.
I want his hands on me again, everywhere. I wanted him to pick me up and throw me on the bed and fuck me on those soft flannel sheets. But I also wanted this to last. And I liked being in charge, just like at work. I would dismiss him if he stepped out of line. So I told him to stand.
I lead him to the bed and he reached for a condom. Then we were both on our knees on top of the bed, kissing and our breath heaving. He groaned and we were both so ready I thought we could come just like this. But I pushed him onto his back and straddled his legs. He grabbed my hips and I let him. I let him hold on tight as I guided him into me and we both gasped. And when I thought I couldn’t feel him any deeper, he lifted his hips to meet mine and plunged into me and I let out a cry.
Then I closed my eyes and all I could think was how good he felt, this guy I barely know. Who I don’t want to know. And I grabbed ahold of anything I could reach—the sheets, his shoulders—and I kept thinking,the girls at the bar will love this.I braced myself against his chest and squeezed myself around him so tightly, riding him while he holds on to my hips and my orgasm built and neither of us could slow it down.
I felt this scream rising in me, and I can’t help myself and I shout, “I’m fucking you and it feels so good and I can’t remember your name!” And he bucked into me, harder, my whole body clenched around him. We both shuddered as we came, spent and sweating.
There’s a rustling sound on the tape, followed by the sound of my own voice from years ago, asking Jess a question.And what did it feel like after, to be with someone for the first time?
There’s a long pause. And then Jess’s voice.That’s just it. I didn’t want it to be thefirsttime. Or the beginning of something new. I didn’t want a next time. I just wanted it to be this one night.Jess laughs.I do wish I could remember his name, though.
I stop the tape. It’s quiet and still except for the duet of crickets and katydids outside my car.
I don’t need to be at the beginning of something new. Oliver and I are where we should be. We have our own kind of intimacy, I tell myself. So what if it doesn’t look like what I thought it would? We aren’t at the end, for sure. More like the beginning of the middle of something, maybe. I have no plan, but I can make one. Oliver is happy like this and so why can’t I be too? Tonight I’ll go back to Levitt Drive to I-30 East to Kings Road and curl down Moorpark to my driveway. I’ll climb the stairs and sneak in next to Oliver and have a good four hours of sleep and reset before it all starts over again.
Chapter 5
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The next weekend, I spend most of Saturday catching up at the office. I join Oliver and Emmy at the kitchen table for an early dinner. Emmy is eating buttered noodles and Oliver is scrolling on his phone.
“What’d I miss today?” I ask.
Emmy sighs. “Errands. Grandma’s house. More errands.”
Oliver says, “Ice cream. Tea party. More ice cream.”
Emmy grins and finds the box of paints I bought for her. Her eyes light up. “For me?”
I nod, and Oliver shoots Emmy an impressed look. “Your mom finds you the coolest stuff.” He does this a lot lately, complimenting me to Emmy, but never looking right at me. He kisses the top of her head.
I pick up Jasper’s photograph, which has been leaning against a wall since I brought it home, and try to find a place for it. “I thought maybe for the living room?”
“Nice.” Oliver hasn’t even really looked at it. Or even noticed it sitting there all week.
This annoys me, and now I’m annoyed at myself for feeling this way. Why do I want Oliver to admire Jasper’s photograph?
“I spent more than I should have,” I say. He looks up. “But it can be my birthday present.”
“Well, we do have an early birthday surprise for you,” he says.
“Really?” My birthday isn’t until tomorrow.
“Close your eyes and hold out your hand.”
