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06 Aralık 2023, 17:32
Anya scouted out her seat in the bar carefully. She was deliberately a little early for this rendezvous for a couple of reasons. Primarily, because she wanted a drink before he got there to quell her jittery nerves. She didn't care what lies she'd been telling herself over the past few months. Seeing him again in person after nearly 25 years was nerve wracking. On paper and online she could play it cool but sitting in her car five minutes earlier, she realized that she was really nervous. It was an excited-delighted-eager nervous, but nervous nonetheless. She also wanted to make sure that there was a suitably discrete spot available for them to be able to have maximum privacy. This bar was near enough to where he worked that there was the outside possibility that someone he knew might also come in for drinks. She also knew for a fact that several of her old pals lived in the neighborhood. And finally, she knew that once he got there, she would no longer be the one in control. So getting there first and picking the table was her last bit of autonomy.
As Anya walked in, she saw that in the corner, just slightly out of view of anyone coming in but with the mirror over the bar providing her just the right angle to see the door, there was a small table. Considering how short she was, it was almost as tall as her and had tall bar stools for chairs. It was the kind that, if she were standing next to it she could reach her elbow straight out to rest on it. To her relief, it wasn't crowded at the bar. In fact, she was the only person in the bar area at all. The lights were dim enough and the place was big enough that no one who came into the bar would really be able to get a good look at her, which suited her just fine. There were a few guys already shooting pool in the back but they couldn't see the table from the other room. Plus, if their volume was any indicator of how much they'd already had to drink, she was certain that they wouldn't notice that she was even there. Anya climbed up onto one of the barstools and left her jacket draped over the chair next to hers to save a spot.
The bartender came around from behind the bar and slid a napkin in front of her. She just cocked an eyebrow by means of taking her order.
"Jack and Coke - no ice, please," she ordered and slid her credit card towards the girl who looked barely old enough to have a job behind the bar, "Go ahead and open up a tab. I'm waiting for someone."
The bartender took her card and returned shortly placing the glass on the napkin. Anya took a long pull from the glass. She let the whisky play in her mouth for a moment before slowly swallowing. The woody, rich sweetness warmed her through. Idly, she reached into her bag for her notebook and a pencil. As was her habit, she reread through everything in it first and then smoothed her hand over the next blank page.
A few words and phrases had been tumbling around in her mind and threatening to turn into a poem for a couple of days. Anya had taken to keeping her small notebook at the ready day and night just in case they tried to organize into a poem. She let the pencil wander where it wanted, giving no specific thought to what she may be doodling. The scritch scratch of the pencil on the paper was so soothing and satisfying to her. Often the mindless doodling turned into words and she found that her mind focused in on what the words wanted her to do with them. More often than not these days it was a poem about him. Anya brushed aside the pestering mosquito of a thought that nagged at her about why having him back in her life made her able to write so easily.
While not specifically glancing at the mirror over the bar, she could tell when anyone came in or went out which is why she knew precisely when he walked in. She didn't glance up, playing it cool, but smiled and said, "Oh, Hey." as he approached her.
"Hey yourself," he whispered as he leaned over and brushed the hair away from her ear to kiss her neck. His left hand snaked around her waist and pulled her tight against him. She turned slightly on the barstool and straddled his legs to get closer while placing her hands on his hips and looking up at him.
"Sorry I'm late," he breathed against her lips after he kissed her firmly. "You taste like you've been visiting with your old pal Jack." He chuckled at the well-worn joke. It was no secret to anyone who had known her as long as he had that her go to drink was Jack and Coke.
The chill of his face from having just come in out of the icy wind gave her an extra jolt of exhilaration as the familiar tingle of having his lips on hers surged through her body. She lazily slid her hands around his back and pulled him closer and kissed him more deeply. Nothing existed for a moment but the swirl of sensations and emotions surging through her. This meeting was a rare convergence of their busy schedules. She was determined to savor every second they could scrap together. She was a little annoyed that he was late getting to their meeting spot, but the press of him against her quickly tucked that away. She wasn't, however, going to let him completely off the hook for making Escort Kızılay (https://www.kizilaykadin.com/) her wait. Breaking off the kiss and pushing her hands against his chest, she smiled up at him and said, "I've kept myself busy." She slid back all the way onto her seat and reached for her drink. Never taking her eyes off of his face, she took a long, slow drink.
He moved her jacket onto the onto the barstool next to her. After signaling to the bartender and ordering, he pulled her closer to rest his feet on the bottom rung of her barstool and trapped her leg between his knees. He casually rested his left hand on her thigh for a moment then suddenly ran his fingers against the grain of the denim and chuckled at Anya's sharp intake of breath.
"I see some things don't change do they?" he asked letting her know that he remembered from years ago how the sound and feel of that turned her on. His hand didn't leave her thigh as he took a drink of his beer. Anya was torn between swatting his hand away and the strong urge to lean over and lick the foam off of his lips for him. She settled for intertwining her fingers with his and playing with them.
She loved his hands. They were bigger than her own. Strong but not worn. Gentle yet demanding. They were slightly callused from years of golf and work on his boat. Years of tapping away at spreadsheets on his computer kept them nimble as well. If she hadn't wrapped her fingers in his, he would have continued his wandering up her thigh towards her hips and she wasn't quite ready for him to be there just yet.
Over the next half an hour, there was random conversation between them but she hardly noticed - the usual generic catching up on life and such. She was a good enough listener to be able to attend to the conversation on the periphery of her mind and make appropriate responses and encouraging sounds when necessary. Every one of her senses was consumed with him. When she wasn't staring into his eyes, she stared at his mouth as he talked. Imagining it leaving a trail of kisses down her neck and over her breasts left her with a conspicuous dampness between her legs. She could picture him stopping to gently trace each nipple with his tongue before moving on - his hands following his mouth on their journey. She felt her nipples harden at the thought of it.
It must have been obvious that her mind had wandered far from the conversation because he stood up, eliminating any space between them. He slid his hand up the base of her neck and twisted his fingers in her long brown hair, pulling it tight into his fist and kissed her again. Softly at first and becoming more insistent quickly. His tongue traced her lips and she parted them for him. His right hand cradled the back of her head as his left found her hip. It was a very good thing that she was still sitting on the barstool because even that slight squeeze on her hipbone sent a shockwave to her core. She squirmed in her seat which only intensified the sensation as she continued to kiss him. She was hardly aware that she was rocking forward to press herself tighter against his thigh that was wedged deep between her legs almost touching the seat of her barstool. The chuckle in his throat and twinkle in his eye as he pulled away confirmed to her that he had noticed her reaction.
"Take it easy there you, " he said and planted a kiss on her forehead, "I don't want you putting on a show for everyone here. If you're going to be moaning and squirming when I touch you, I want it to be somewhere that we both can enjoy it. Although, if I remember correctly, you don't mind an audience," he finished with a chuckle.
"Then you'd better stop touching me," Anya replied with a little huff as she tried to compose herself but was brought up short with a squeak as he slid his hand all the way up her thigh. She snapped her legs together, trapping his hand between her thighs and shot him a look which was met with a wolfish grin.
"Oh," he asked with the fakest of sweet innocence, "So you do want me to keep it there? Use your words. Ask me to move my hand. I'm sure you remember the rules."
She wrapped her hand around his wrist and looked him dead in the eye. Her mouth suddenly seemed to have forgotten how words worked. She tried to tug his hand up but he gripped her thigh hard. The combination of that sudden dig of his fingers into her flesh and the press of the back of his hand against her clit almost had her orgasming on the spot.
"Use your words." He repeated and squeezed harder.
She both hated and loved how quickly she responded to his tone so easily after all these years. Anya drew in a deep breath and said, "Please. Will you move your hand for now?"
He slowly shook his head once. "Try again. Do it correctly," He growled.
"Please Sir. Will you move your hand?"
"Closer. Tell me where you want me to move it from."
"Please Sir. Will you move your hand away from my pussy?"
"Tell me why you want me to move it," he said as he slipped his hand up and down between her thighs keeping the pressure on her clit.
"I don't want the first time you make me cum after Kızılay Escort (https://www.kizilaykadin.com/) all these years to be in a place where I can't fully enjoy it or reciprocate for you," Anya was surprised at her own words as she realized how true they were.
He slowly pulled his hand up from between her still tightly clenched thighs and sat back down with a satisfied smile on his face, "You forgot to say 'Sir' that time. I'll punish you for that later," he said with a wink and a wave to the waitress signaling that he wanted to settle the tab. He put her hand on his thigh and covered it with his. The bulge of his hard, thick cock was just out of her reach and her fingers craved to slide up and stroke it.
"Uh uh, " he whispered, pressing her hand firmly onto his leg and reading her mind as the waitress brought over the check, "You don't get to touch yet." With his free hand, he slid cash to the girl and took Anya's credit card back from the folder. He reached out and grazed her achingly sensitive nipple with it then tucked the plastic under her shirt and into her bra.
As he sat back on his chair and slowly finished his beer, Anya started to gather up her pencils and journal. She welcomed the opportunity to recompose herself. Even though he was no longer physically touching her, she recognized the connection he had reestablished with his touch. His hands may no longer be manipulating her body but his presence surely was. When she reached for her journal to put it back in her bag she heard him say quietly, "What have you written lately?"
Anya hovered her hand over the journal as if it would scald her if she touched it now. She had been hoping he wouldn't notice it. Better than anyone else on Earth he knew how personal her writing was to her and how difficult it was for her to share it. She debated telling him it was just a book of doodles for a split second then found that she was utterly unable to lie to him. She was an open book in his presence.
"I wrote some things after you got back in touch with me a couple weeks ago," she hedged vaguely.
His glass hit the table with a thump. "No, Anya. Not 'things'. You are a poet. You wrote poems right? Do not diminish your talent by being dismissive of your work." The edge in his voice was hard and stern. He reached for the book and laid his hand on the cover. No one but her had ever touched her journal. She felt her breath catch in her throat. If it had been anyone else, she would have snatched it away immediately.
Anya stared at his hand on the cover and felt her heart pounding. She was still so uncomfortable thinking of herself as a 'poet'. It seemed to be an arrogant thing to call herself. It was just as awkward for her to hear him refer to her as one. The words she shackled together were poetic in a fashion she supposed, but since she was really the only person who ever read them they hardly counted for anything really she thought. It was just her way of getting stuff out of her head. She rolled her eyes, blushed and said, "Yes. I wrote ... poems."
He looked back down at his hand on the cover of the journal and traced the embossed design in the leather with his finger. He clicked his tongue and shook his head slowly, "I thought we had cleared this up a long time ago Anya. Eye rolling is unbecoming." As he raised his eyes to look at her she recognized the glint in them and immediately felt that familiar tingle race down her spine. He pushed the journal towards her over the dark grain of the wooden tabletop. "Now you must read one out loud to me."
"Here? Now?" she squeaked out.
"Yes. I want to hear the most recent poem you've written. Now."
Anya's hand trembled as she flipped back to the poem she had written after he had set up this meeting with her. She bit her lip and looked up at him with pleading eyes holding out a tiny hope that she'd see him wink and say he was just giving her a hard time. Of course she was met with his eyes locked on her. He held her eye contact for a moment and then nodded down at the book, "Read me your poem Anya."
She took in a deep breath. His words brought a sense of calm over her with. Exhaling she began,
"The Sun and The Moon
You and I, we are the sun and the moon.
Forever in pursuit of the other's light
We chase after one another endlessly.
There is a time each day,
When we are almost near enough.
A fleeting glimpse of each other,
The rays of our light and love stretching across the horizon.
Desperately reaching-
But not bridging the distance.
On the rarest of occasions,
We eclipse.
Sharing the same space for the briefest of moments,
Becoming one light.
Only to be drawn apart again
And thrust back onto our separate paths."
Anya closed the journal and shoved it deep into her bag to avoid looking back at him. She felt raw and exposed. The burning heat in her cheeks and ears betrayed her horrification at having read that out loud. It was so sappy and desperate sounding to her ears. Especially since she had already all but admitted that it was about the Kızılay Escort Bayan (https://www.kizilaykadin.com/) two of them.
"Look at me Anya," he said and she felt his finger hook beneath her chin and pull it upward.
She allowed him to lift her face but kept her eyes closed. He ran his finger up and down the bridge of her nose - a gesture that only he knew was her means of self-soothing when she was anxious or upset.
"Look at me."
Anya lifted her eyes
"Thank you. Your writing is a gift. I'm honored that you find anything about me to inspire such beautiful imagery. I cherish every word. I always have." He stood and held a hand out to her.
Anya slipped off the barstool and pulled her bag over her other shoulder. Taking his hand she let him lead her out of the bar into the crisp, cold, late November air. She shuddered as it hit her and he pulled her close against his side. She inhaled his scent deeply. The smell of him was one that she had always been intoxicated by - even back as far as when they were teens. Before she ever recognized her submissive sexual response to his dominance, she had a primal connection to him. She remembered realizing how powerfully she was able to conjure him up after they had parted ways when she would catch a similar scent on a man in a crowd.
They walked across the parking lot perfectly in step despite their height difference. She stayed tucked under his arm as they approached her car. She smiled to herself as she realized that she had subconsciously parked in a corner of the lot that was blocked from the view of the bar entrance. Then she chuckled out loud when he hit his remote unlock and the lights of the truck next to hers flashed.
"How did you know this was my car?" she laughed. "I'm certain I never told you what I'm driving these days," she continued.
He had pulled her so that she was walking in front of him and guided her between the two vehicles. It was dark, but the glow from the streetlight on the other side of the trees that separated the parking lot from the road illuminated the parking spaces just enough to see easily but leave them in the shadows obscuring them from any eyes that might pass by.
Anya turned to face him, still smiling about his knowing how to park beside her. He was smiling too, but it was a hungry smile. It was a smile that told her that she wasn't getting into her car just yet. It was a smile that caused a rush of heat to her pussy. Her eyes locked on his.
He licked his lips and looked over every inch of her, "Come here."
She took a step forward. He leaned over and pulled her hair up and away from her neck with one hand. The other slid up the front of her neck and gripped her tightly just below the jaw. Anya lifted onto her tiptoes and placed her hands against his chest as he pulled her slightly upwards. She looked up at his dark eyes shining in the dim filtered streetlight.
He stared at her for a moment feeling, her wanting a breath, then, kissed her deeply. She parted her lips for his probing tongue and felt the moan rising up from her throat. He eased his hand off of her throat slid it down her side. When he got to her ass, he grabbed it firmly and pulled her even closer to him. She could feel his hardened cock against her belly and her whole body pulsed with arousal.
He broke off the kiss and pulled her head back by the fistful of hair he still held. He spun her around and leaned in close. His other hand slipped into the front of her pants and between her legs. Easily he slid his middle finger into her soaking wet cunt. His teeth gripped her earlobe and he growled, "Why aren't you wearing any panties? You are a naughty girl Anya. I was only going to punish you for forgetting to use "Sir" earlier. Now I will punish you for being an eager, dirty slut too. Take off your pants and lean over the hood of your car Anya."
He pulled his hand out of her pants and gently pushed her away from him towards her car. Without turning to face him, Anya unbuttoned her jeans and slid the zipper down. She stopped for a moment to pull her cardigan up over her hips so that when her pants came down he would have an unobstructed view of her full, round ass. She also used the moment to hide the smile that crept across her face.
She had been completely submissive to him sexually and willing to follow his every command since they were teenagers. She had been unsure of whether or not he would still be drawn to her after all these years - she certainly didn't have the looks or figure of her teenaged self - and had been bracing herself for a "friendly drink between old friends". Considering his current still-married status and the things he'd confided in her about how he never thought he'd be able to afford leaving her, she knew that there was no chance of this becoming an ongoing affair. She was hopeful for the possibility of this becoming an occasional good fuck between friends though. Just as he knew her mind and body as well as a virtuoso musician knew their instrument, she knew exactly what made him tick and took immense pleasure from knowing that she had played her cards right with him to get precisely where she was at this moment. Being pantieless was no more an accident than her 'forgetting' to address him as "Sir" and if she was being completely honest, parking where she did was not a happy accident either. Dark corners of parking lots had often been their regular haunts.
As Anya walked in, she saw that in the corner, just slightly out of view of anyone coming in but with the mirror over the bar providing her just the right angle to see the door, there was a small table. Considering how short she was, it was almost as tall as her and had tall bar stools for chairs. It was the kind that, if she were standing next to it she could reach her elbow straight out to rest on it. To her relief, it wasn't crowded at the bar. In fact, she was the only person in the bar area at all. The lights were dim enough and the place was big enough that no one who came into the bar would really be able to get a good look at her, which suited her just fine. There were a few guys already shooting pool in the back but they couldn't see the table from the other room. Plus, if their volume was any indicator of how much they'd already had to drink, she was certain that they wouldn't notice that she was even there. Anya climbed up onto one of the barstools and left her jacket draped over the chair next to hers to save a spot.
The bartender came around from behind the bar and slid a napkin in front of her. She just cocked an eyebrow by means of taking her order.
"Jack and Coke - no ice, please," she ordered and slid her credit card towards the girl who looked barely old enough to have a job behind the bar, "Go ahead and open up a tab. I'm waiting for someone."
The bartender took her card and returned shortly placing the glass on the napkin. Anya took a long pull from the glass. She let the whisky play in her mouth for a moment before slowly swallowing. The woody, rich sweetness warmed her through. Idly, she reached into her bag for her notebook and a pencil. As was her habit, she reread through everything in it first and then smoothed her hand over the next blank page.
A few words and phrases had been tumbling around in her mind and threatening to turn into a poem for a couple of days. Anya had taken to keeping her small notebook at the ready day and night just in case they tried to organize into a poem. She let the pencil wander where it wanted, giving no specific thought to what she may be doodling. The scritch scratch of the pencil on the paper was so soothing and satisfying to her. Often the mindless doodling turned into words and she found that her mind focused in on what the words wanted her to do with them. More often than not these days it was a poem about him. Anya brushed aside the pestering mosquito of a thought that nagged at her about why having him back in her life made her able to write so easily.
While not specifically glancing at the mirror over the bar, she could tell when anyone came in or went out which is why she knew precisely when he walked in. She didn't glance up, playing it cool, but smiled and said, "Oh, Hey." as he approached her.
"Hey yourself," he whispered as he leaned over and brushed the hair away from her ear to kiss her neck. His left hand snaked around her waist and pulled her tight against him. She turned slightly on the barstool and straddled his legs to get closer while placing her hands on his hips and looking up at him.
"Sorry I'm late," he breathed against her lips after he kissed her firmly. "You taste like you've been visiting with your old pal Jack." He chuckled at the well-worn joke. It was no secret to anyone who had known her as long as he had that her go to drink was Jack and Coke.
The chill of his face from having just come in out of the icy wind gave her an extra jolt of exhilaration as the familiar tingle of having his lips on hers surged through her body. She lazily slid her hands around his back and pulled him closer and kissed him more deeply. Nothing existed for a moment but the swirl of sensations and emotions surging through her. This meeting was a rare convergence of their busy schedules. She was determined to savor every second they could scrap together. She was a little annoyed that he was late getting to their meeting spot, but the press of him against her quickly tucked that away. She wasn't, however, going to let him completely off the hook for making Escort Kızılay (https://www.kizilaykadin.com/) her wait. Breaking off the kiss and pushing her hands against his chest, she smiled up at him and said, "I've kept myself busy." She slid back all the way onto her seat and reached for her drink. Never taking her eyes off of his face, she took a long, slow drink.
He moved her jacket onto the onto the barstool next to her. After signaling to the bartender and ordering, he pulled her closer to rest his feet on the bottom rung of her barstool and trapped her leg between his knees. He casually rested his left hand on her thigh for a moment then suddenly ran his fingers against the grain of the denim and chuckled at Anya's sharp intake of breath.
"I see some things don't change do they?" he asked letting her know that he remembered from years ago how the sound and feel of that turned her on. His hand didn't leave her thigh as he took a drink of his beer. Anya was torn between swatting his hand away and the strong urge to lean over and lick the foam off of his lips for him. She settled for intertwining her fingers with his and playing with them.
She loved his hands. They were bigger than her own. Strong but not worn. Gentle yet demanding. They were slightly callused from years of golf and work on his boat. Years of tapping away at spreadsheets on his computer kept them nimble as well. If she hadn't wrapped her fingers in his, he would have continued his wandering up her thigh towards her hips and she wasn't quite ready for him to be there just yet.
Over the next half an hour, there was random conversation between them but she hardly noticed - the usual generic catching up on life and such. She was a good enough listener to be able to attend to the conversation on the periphery of her mind and make appropriate responses and encouraging sounds when necessary. Every one of her senses was consumed with him. When she wasn't staring into his eyes, she stared at his mouth as he talked. Imagining it leaving a trail of kisses down her neck and over her breasts left her with a conspicuous dampness between her legs. She could picture him stopping to gently trace each nipple with his tongue before moving on - his hands following his mouth on their journey. She felt her nipples harden at the thought of it.
It must have been obvious that her mind had wandered far from the conversation because he stood up, eliminating any space between them. He slid his hand up the base of her neck and twisted his fingers in her long brown hair, pulling it tight into his fist and kissed her again. Softly at first and becoming more insistent quickly. His tongue traced her lips and she parted them for him. His right hand cradled the back of her head as his left found her hip. It was a very good thing that she was still sitting on the barstool because even that slight squeeze on her hipbone sent a shockwave to her core. She squirmed in her seat which only intensified the sensation as she continued to kiss him. She was hardly aware that she was rocking forward to press herself tighter against his thigh that was wedged deep between her legs almost touching the seat of her barstool. The chuckle in his throat and twinkle in his eye as he pulled away confirmed to her that he had noticed her reaction.
"Take it easy there you, " he said and planted a kiss on her forehead, "I don't want you putting on a show for everyone here. If you're going to be moaning and squirming when I touch you, I want it to be somewhere that we both can enjoy it. Although, if I remember correctly, you don't mind an audience," he finished with a chuckle.
"Then you'd better stop touching me," Anya replied with a little huff as she tried to compose herself but was brought up short with a squeak as he slid his hand all the way up her thigh. She snapped her legs together, trapping his hand between her thighs and shot him a look which was met with a wolfish grin.
"Oh," he asked with the fakest of sweet innocence, "So you do want me to keep it there? Use your words. Ask me to move my hand. I'm sure you remember the rules."
She wrapped her hand around his wrist and looked him dead in the eye. Her mouth suddenly seemed to have forgotten how words worked. She tried to tug his hand up but he gripped her thigh hard. The combination of that sudden dig of his fingers into her flesh and the press of the back of his hand against her clit almost had her orgasming on the spot.
"Use your words." He repeated and squeezed harder.
She both hated and loved how quickly she responded to his tone so easily after all these years. Anya drew in a deep breath and said, "Please. Will you move your hand for now?"
He slowly shook his head once. "Try again. Do it correctly," He growled.
"Please Sir. Will you move your hand?"
"Closer. Tell me where you want me to move it from."
"Please Sir. Will you move your hand away from my pussy?"
"Tell me why you want me to move it," he said as he slipped his hand up and down between her thighs keeping the pressure on her clit.
"I don't want the first time you make me cum after Kızılay Escort (https://www.kizilaykadin.com/) all these years to be in a place where I can't fully enjoy it or reciprocate for you," Anya was surprised at her own words as she realized how true they were.
He slowly pulled his hand up from between her still tightly clenched thighs and sat back down with a satisfied smile on his face, "You forgot to say 'Sir' that time. I'll punish you for that later," he said with a wink and a wave to the waitress signaling that he wanted to settle the tab. He put her hand on his thigh and covered it with his. The bulge of his hard, thick cock was just out of her reach and her fingers craved to slide up and stroke it.
"Uh uh, " he whispered, pressing her hand firmly onto his leg and reading her mind as the waitress brought over the check, "You don't get to touch yet." With his free hand, he slid cash to the girl and took Anya's credit card back from the folder. He reached out and grazed her achingly sensitive nipple with it then tucked the plastic under her shirt and into her bra.
As he sat back on his chair and slowly finished his beer, Anya started to gather up her pencils and journal. She welcomed the opportunity to recompose herself. Even though he was no longer physically touching her, she recognized the connection he had reestablished with his touch. His hands may no longer be manipulating her body but his presence surely was. When she reached for her journal to put it back in her bag she heard him say quietly, "What have you written lately?"
Anya hovered her hand over the journal as if it would scald her if she touched it now. She had been hoping he wouldn't notice it. Better than anyone else on Earth he knew how personal her writing was to her and how difficult it was for her to share it. She debated telling him it was just a book of doodles for a split second then found that she was utterly unable to lie to him. She was an open book in his presence.
"I wrote some things after you got back in touch with me a couple weeks ago," she hedged vaguely.
His glass hit the table with a thump. "No, Anya. Not 'things'. You are a poet. You wrote poems right? Do not diminish your talent by being dismissive of your work." The edge in his voice was hard and stern. He reached for the book and laid his hand on the cover. No one but her had ever touched her journal. She felt her breath catch in her throat. If it had been anyone else, she would have snatched it away immediately.
Anya stared at his hand on the cover and felt her heart pounding. She was still so uncomfortable thinking of herself as a 'poet'. It seemed to be an arrogant thing to call herself. It was just as awkward for her to hear him refer to her as one. The words she shackled together were poetic in a fashion she supposed, but since she was really the only person who ever read them they hardly counted for anything really she thought. It was just her way of getting stuff out of her head. She rolled her eyes, blushed and said, "Yes. I wrote ... poems."
He looked back down at his hand on the cover of the journal and traced the embossed design in the leather with his finger. He clicked his tongue and shook his head slowly, "I thought we had cleared this up a long time ago Anya. Eye rolling is unbecoming." As he raised his eyes to look at her she recognized the glint in them and immediately felt that familiar tingle race down her spine. He pushed the journal towards her over the dark grain of the wooden tabletop. "Now you must read one out loud to me."
"Here? Now?" she squeaked out.
"Yes. I want to hear the most recent poem you've written. Now."
Anya's hand trembled as she flipped back to the poem she had written after he had set up this meeting with her. She bit her lip and looked up at him with pleading eyes holding out a tiny hope that she'd see him wink and say he was just giving her a hard time. Of course she was met with his eyes locked on her. He held her eye contact for a moment and then nodded down at the book, "Read me your poem Anya."
She took in a deep breath. His words brought a sense of calm over her with. Exhaling she began,
"The Sun and The Moon
You and I, we are the sun and the moon.
Forever in pursuit of the other's light
We chase after one another endlessly.
There is a time each day,
When we are almost near enough.
A fleeting glimpse of each other,
The rays of our light and love stretching across the horizon.
Desperately reaching-
But not bridging the distance.
On the rarest of occasions,
We eclipse.
Sharing the same space for the briefest of moments,
Becoming one light.
Only to be drawn apart again
And thrust back onto our separate paths."
Anya closed the journal and shoved it deep into her bag to avoid looking back at him. She felt raw and exposed. The burning heat in her cheeks and ears betrayed her horrification at having read that out loud. It was so sappy and desperate sounding to her ears. Especially since she had already all but admitted that it was about the Kızılay Escort Bayan (https://www.kizilaykadin.com/) two of them.
"Look at me Anya," he said and she felt his finger hook beneath her chin and pull it upward.
She allowed him to lift her face but kept her eyes closed. He ran his finger up and down the bridge of her nose - a gesture that only he knew was her means of self-soothing when she was anxious or upset.
"Look at me."
Anya lifted her eyes
"Thank you. Your writing is a gift. I'm honored that you find anything about me to inspire such beautiful imagery. I cherish every word. I always have." He stood and held a hand out to her.
Anya slipped off the barstool and pulled her bag over her other shoulder. Taking his hand she let him lead her out of the bar into the crisp, cold, late November air. She shuddered as it hit her and he pulled her close against his side. She inhaled his scent deeply. The smell of him was one that she had always been intoxicated by - even back as far as when they were teens. Before she ever recognized her submissive sexual response to his dominance, she had a primal connection to him. She remembered realizing how powerfully she was able to conjure him up after they had parted ways when she would catch a similar scent on a man in a crowd.
They walked across the parking lot perfectly in step despite their height difference. She stayed tucked under his arm as they approached her car. She smiled to herself as she realized that she had subconsciously parked in a corner of the lot that was blocked from the view of the bar entrance. Then she chuckled out loud when he hit his remote unlock and the lights of the truck next to hers flashed.
"How did you know this was my car?" she laughed. "I'm certain I never told you what I'm driving these days," she continued.
He had pulled her so that she was walking in front of him and guided her between the two vehicles. It was dark, but the glow from the streetlight on the other side of the trees that separated the parking lot from the road illuminated the parking spaces just enough to see easily but leave them in the shadows obscuring them from any eyes that might pass by.
Anya turned to face him, still smiling about his knowing how to park beside her. He was smiling too, but it was a hungry smile. It was a smile that told her that she wasn't getting into her car just yet. It was a smile that caused a rush of heat to her pussy. Her eyes locked on his.
He licked his lips and looked over every inch of her, "Come here."
She took a step forward. He leaned over and pulled her hair up and away from her neck with one hand. The other slid up the front of her neck and gripped her tightly just below the jaw. Anya lifted onto her tiptoes and placed her hands against his chest as he pulled her slightly upwards. She looked up at his dark eyes shining in the dim filtered streetlight.
He stared at her for a moment feeling, her wanting a breath, then, kissed her deeply. She parted her lips for his probing tongue and felt the moan rising up from her throat. He eased his hand off of her throat slid it down her side. When he got to her ass, he grabbed it firmly and pulled her even closer to him. She could feel his hardened cock against her belly and her whole body pulsed with arousal.
He broke off the kiss and pulled her head back by the fistful of hair he still held. He spun her around and leaned in close. His other hand slipped into the front of her pants and between her legs. Easily he slid his middle finger into her soaking wet cunt. His teeth gripped her earlobe and he growled, "Why aren't you wearing any panties? You are a naughty girl Anya. I was only going to punish you for forgetting to use "Sir" earlier. Now I will punish you for being an eager, dirty slut too. Take off your pants and lean over the hood of your car Anya."
He pulled his hand out of her pants and gently pushed her away from him towards her car. Without turning to face him, Anya unbuttoned her jeans and slid the zipper down. She stopped for a moment to pull her cardigan up over her hips so that when her pants came down he would have an unobstructed view of her full, round ass. She also used the moment to hide the smile that crept across her face.
She had been completely submissive to him sexually and willing to follow his every command since they were teenagers. She had been unsure of whether or not he would still be drawn to her after all these years - she certainly didn't have the looks or figure of her teenaged self - and had been bracing herself for a "friendly drink between old friends". Considering his current still-married status and the things he'd confided in her about how he never thought he'd be able to afford leaving her, she knew that there was no chance of this becoming an ongoing affair. She was hopeful for the possibility of this becoming an occasional good fuck between friends though. Just as he knew her mind and body as well as a virtuoso musician knew their instrument, she knew exactly what made him tick and took immense pleasure from knowing that she had played her cards right with him to get precisely where she was at this moment. Being pantieless was no more an accident than her 'forgetting' to address him as "Sir" and if she was being completely honest, parking where she did was not a happy accident either. Dark corners of parking lots had often been their regular haunts.