Even in Toronto, spring air contained magic. In it, Kenneth Weston could smell the vague deep-fried aromas of Spadina and Chinatown, the street dirt, the perfume, the nightclubs, the drunken arousal of a city waking up from a long, cold winter.
It was after dark, and Victoria was off to the hospital to another call. Kenneth didn’t mind the time she spent away. It gave him a chance to be alone. A chance to absorb the city vista in a way he couldn’t possibly do if she was home. When she was home, he was miserable. He thought of leaving. It was Victoria’s complete emotional dependence that made him stay.
Kenneth worked as a website designer. More or less. Even the title of designer was a bit glamourous for what his job entailed, which was maintaining the link status of his few clients. There were 10 right now, and he had negotiated contracts with each that gave him the continuing responsibility of maintaining their rank at the top of the search engines. A task which took far more time and far less creativity than anything related to design.
Working at the computer often lead to him digging out pornography. Sensual bondage. He couldn’t remember when he had developed a taste for it. Victoria did not enjoy either submission or domination. But she didn’t enjoy sex at all anymore, and the two of them had not made love in almost a year.
She was a tall, slim 30-year old with as fine an ass as any woman could ever hope for. Her lankiness was sensual in its own way. Kenneth loved the way the inseam of her jeans just went up and up and up. Making love to her had once been a delirious joy.
There was no joy now, and while Kenneth’s male hormones raged on like spring flood, Victoria’s libido, which at 30 should have been more ravenous than ever, was as dusty as a dry lakebed. She had a mind for work, and she was obsessed with it. She obsessed about her job, about their student loans, the latest Ikea catalogues, the design of their apartment. She had exactly no interest in sex, and while she knew that Kenneth was starving for sensual engagement, she could do nothing, it seemed, to stoke her own sensual fire back to life. The coals had gone out, and no amount of blowing (or anything else) could warm them up.
The bic lighter made a faint plink as he flipped it open. The flint turned, and a flame leapt into the air. The smell of lighter fluid. He raised it to his pipe. The pipe was filled with an herbal blend he bought at Jimmy’s Smoke Shop. Nothing close to marijuana, but if he smoked up now, he was more apt to dive into a drawing, or some random un-paid graphic work, rather than the very routine drudgery of website maintenance. Maybe in another few months he’d buy a nice Indica blend if he found a dealer he could trust. His had been busted ages ago.
The wind changed as he raised his pipe, and a now a new scent made his forebrain bristle. It was a soft, sweet smell, feminine and instantly sexual. His hands paused and he shifted his nose toward it. Vanilla-flavored woman. That’s what it smelled like.
And there she was: a woman standing on the concrete balcony just left of his. She was gazing out at the skyline just like he was. He didn’t recognize her, and figured she must be a new tenant since that place had been empty for a while. He had never seen her before. She wasn’t the statuesque British girl from upstairs: the gorgeous brunette he’d once seen flirting shamelessly with one of the building’s security guards.
No.
This girl on the balcony was shorter, probably about 5’9′. Her breasts were humbly-sized, but from her silhouette he could see the sensuous curve of her behind, and it drove him crazy in exactly the same way Victoria’s did.
His soul growled at the absolute frustration of his most primal sensual desires. He breathed in a big sigh, and butane from the lighter momentarily overpowered the electric vanilla blowing from next door. He realized the wind had snuffed the ligher flame. He flicked it again, and cupped his hand around it as he held the pipe in his mouth.
“Is that what I think it is?” the woman said suddenly, without turning away from the view. Kenneth started. Until now, he thought he had noticed her first. Although there was a lot of youth in her voice, it still sounded mature, poised.
“Probably not,” Kenneth said when he had gathered his wits. He lit the zippo again and took a long drag of the bitter smoke. “… unless you think it’s Mama Gaia’s Summer Simmer,” he said on the exhale.
“Pardon?” she chuckled. As she turned toward him, and the dim yellow light from her apartment lit her features. Her eyes were dark, he couldn’t tell if they were blue, or brown, or what since they were shaded by her hair and the bridge of her nose. Pretty. She had freckles, just a few, and the expression she wore on her face was simple: amused, curious, and beneath that playful face, he saw something he longed for almost more than sex. Happiness? Self-confidence? Whatever it was, it was something he hadn’t seen in Victoria’s eyes for a very long time.
“Did you say Summer Sinner?:” she said “Is that like Northern Lights, or White Widow or something?” She said the names fancifully like she was parodying hippies who liked brand-name strains, but Kenneth had an idea that she knew exactly what White Widow and Northern Lights were all about.
Kenneth laughed. “Simmer, not sinner.” then cocked his head. “Summer Sinner, I like that. And no, it’s not a strain of weed. It’s just a bunch of herbs, like Blue Lotus, and some other stuff. It cools me off… when I’m too lazy to go to the gym. And it’s not that bad for me, I don’t think.” Kenneth took another drag.
“Huh…” mind if I try some?” she said, holding her hand out over the metal railing dividing the single concrete slab that made up three balconies on this Bloor St. apartment. He could see her very clearly now as she approached their shared railing. Her long straw-colored hair was not quite pin straight. It ended just above her breasts, which weren’t a whole lot to look at, but extremely well-flattered by her turtleneck. Not that breasts mattered when they belonged to a face like that, and that voice.
“Mm?” said Kenneth absently. “Oh,” he said, and the harsh smoke stung his trachea as he spoke. He coughed a few times, then said “Sure go ahead, but it’s…” Kenneth began to cough again.
“Pretty Harsh?” she said, raising her eyebrows. Kenneth was politely coughing toward his armpit, but managed a nod. She looked him with a wary smile, like she was sizing him up. Offered a tiny heh of a giggle.
As Kenneth passed her the pipe, he met her gaze. Brown eyes, they were. And paired up with that dusty blonde hair, oh you divine creature. He felt all of his lust from the past 9 years of basically sexless marriage flash through his body at that instant. He felt himself flutter with anticipation that her fingers might touch his when she took the pipe. They did not, and he was disappointed.
He composed his face. It’s impolite to gawk, even when someone is blindingly attractive; perhaps especially so then. Instead of gawking, he watched her with a small, calculating smile of his own, and while his eyes hungrily devoured the sight of her tiny lips squeezing the end of the pipe, his face belied only gentle curiosity.
Her brow furrowed, and she made a face that looked something like a pout. She held the smoke in her lungs just like a practiced pothead. She looked at Kenneth and he made a sympathetic grimace. He nodded then, and she coughed out all of the Mama Gaia’s Summer Simmer in a series of feminine hacks.
“Ugh, this is… nasty,” she said.
“Yeah, well, it keeps my mind calm, and I can stay pretty clear on it. I take it when I want to relax and… kinda think about nothing for a while.”
“Is your life that bad that you actually need a break from thinking?”
Kenneth chuckled as he took another haul off his pipe. “Everyone needs a break from thinking. A still mind is a healthy mind.”
“Still mind, healthy mind? That sounds like something a Zen master once might have said.”
“It probably is,” said Kenneth as he exhaled. It fell silent. And for a moment, she looked at him with a gaze that seemed a bit lusty, though he was sure it was wishful thinking. Men are the horny ones. Lusty glances from attractive women are just phantasms: male psychological projection. After a moment she leaned on the railing, her arms crossing delicately over her slight bosom and gazed out at the city again, seeming to scan the buildings.
Another uncomfortable silence. Not uncomfortable for the awkwardness. Uncomfortable, because she was standing there, looking amazing, and he wanted to hear her voice. He wanted them to slide naturally into a casual, yet hintingly sexual conversation, and then slide naturally into her apartment, slide naturally into her bed, and then slide, quite naturally thank you very much, into each other in just about every way possible. But Kenneth wouldn’t break the silence with some scratching attempt to keep her talking. Nothing clumsier than showing you’re interested in a woman by launching off some inane conversation-starter like “So what do you do?”
When he was done his pipe, Kenneth stretched. “Well,” he said, “it was a pleasure meeting you…”
“Jennifer.” She said, turning toward him again.
“A pleasure meeting you, Jennifer.” Kenneth extended his hand across the railing, and she took it. Her grasp was gentle but confident, and Kenneth imagined a little spark of energy zapping from him to her as they shook hands. “I should probably get back to my SEO projects. Thank you for sharing a pipe of fake weed with me.” Kenneth smiled as he tapped his pipe on the railing to clear the bowl, then put it in a box that fit into his inner coat pocket. She watched his as he did, and as she watched him, a version of that same calculating look came back onto her face. As he turned to go inside, he met her eyes. Looked like she wanted to say something.
Kenneth nonchalantly raised his eyebrows.
“If you’d like to come over, I’ve got a half ounce of quite strong hydro that I haven’t touched in about a month.”
Kenneth felt his eyes widen, and a fiery tingle flashed from his feet to his mid-belly. “Oh,” he said fumbling with his pipe and nearly dropping his lighter as he sent it to his pocket, “I should, I’ve…” Those frail verbal diversions got stuck in his throat. To hell with the marijuana, the thought of being the centre of this girl’s attention for more than just a few minutes was more than enough to bring Kenneth’s will to its knees. He felt a flash of guilt for his moribund marriage to Victoria — This might be the final nail in our coffin, Vic — then gave himself over completely to Jennifer’s sensual spell. “You know what,” he said finally. “That sounds amazing.”
The door to 502 unbolted and opened as soon as he knocked. The hallway lighting was a ghastly fluorescent green, but it did its job in lighting her up. She was gorgeous. Her straw-colored hair curled a bit at the bottom, and the dark brown of her eyes gave her a look of pure impishness. Her grin was demure as she gestured wordlessly for him to enter.
“Welcome,” she said when he was inside. She had hardly unpacked. “I’m sorry it’s still a mess, I’m still getting my job sorted out, and I don’t have much time in the evenings before I turn in to get the place unpacked.” Kenneth noted that the layout of 502 was identical to the layout of the apartment he shared with Victoria, except mirrored. The living room and kitchen were visible from the doorway, the bathroom and bedroom were adjacent to the bathroom and bedroom in his apartment.
“What’s your job?” Kenneth said, helping himself to the couch which sat in the corner of a mostly empty living room. Jennifer squatted by some of the boxes beside the kitchen. Her jeans were the stretchable kind, she was trim and flexible, a studded belt showed just beneath her turtleneck along with about an inch of the small of her back where he could see two tiny dimples. He sighed and began to look forward to the distraction a few lungfuls of marijuana might provide. “I’m a waitress,” she said “for now. I’ve got some specialized drafting courses lined up though, kind of a supplementary to my engineering degree. And the waitressing job’ll pay for it for now… ah, there you are.” Jennifer hauled out a sizable bag of thick green buds.
She sat across from him in an armchair surrounded by boxes. They smoked lightly, finishing off only one and a half pipefuls, leaving the second one unfinished when the stuff started to get on top of them. It left Kenneth in a mostly sober, but quickened state of mind. Jokes were funnier, stories were more intimate. The conversation turned to relationships at some point and Jennifer listened sympathetically to Kenneth’s marriage woes, sharing some of her own relationship woes as well. Two recent meathead boyfriends and the last few months sworn off men. At some point she had gone to get two large tubmlers of water, and when she had come back, she sat on the couch with him.
The conversation was winding down. “Well Kenneth, this has been amazingly lovely, I’m so happy to be living next to you.”
“Likewise,” said Kenneth, and he desperately hoped she was not ending their night.
“Whaddya say?” said Jennifer, holding up her pipe. “Do you wanna finish this bowl with me?”
“Oh I don’t know,” said Kenneth rubbing the side of his face, “That shit’s pow’ful.”
“Hehe, here, I’ll make it easier for you.” Something in the gentleness of her tone was very suggestive, and it made him perk up in every place. He didn’t know quite why, but now he was filled with anticipation.
She picked the pipe up, along with the lighter, and — with both knees on the couch, back straight — took a long drag off the bowl. She must have inhaled the rest of the bowl in one breath. It was hard to believe someone her size possibly could. She bent toward him, tilted her head.
“Open, and inhale” she said in a stifled whisper. A little puff of smoke wafted from her lips.
Kenneth opened his mouth, and as her lips approached his she exhaled. Kenneth dutifully inhaled, and after all the smoke was gone from her lungs, she smothered him with a kiss, wrapping her left hand around the back of his head, as she used her right to steady herself, as she moved forward to straddle his lap. Kenneth’s repressed passion was sprung loose like a starving wolf. He kissed her back fervently and without reservation. His lungs burned, his loins burned, his whole body was afire. And it was too much. His mind was reeling from the intensity of it, and he pulled back from his new lover, coughing, as she watched, smiling.
Kenneth put his hands in front of him, like he was trying to steady himself. He was dizzy. He was also rock hard. Every corner and angle of Kenneth’s body ached for every curve and crevice of hers. He took a few deep breaths, and the part of his mind that had instructed his moral obligations to Victoria for the past 8 passionless years of their marriage sought in vain to reassert itself over his exploding carnality, then that part of him disappeared completely.
“Hey,” said Jennifer, grabbing the knob of Kenneth’s erection through his jeans, and leaning closer to his ear to whisper. Her blonde hair brushed the bare part of his neck where his tee shirt opened up. He breathed deeply in and out. “You need this more than I do. Come with me.” and her tongue was on his ear, wetly tracing the inside of the innermost ridge, first probing toward his ear canal, then sweeping down the lobe, behind his ear, and down his neck with her mouth, sucking him gently, and ending with a wet bite on the soft part above his collarbone.
Kenneth moaned, and almost brought his hand between her legs, then thought better of it. How many guys went right for the red button? You might as well open a book to the middle. Instead, he covered her face and neck with passionate kisses, meeting her mouth several times, and reveling in the sensations of her lips and tongue on his mouth, and in his mouth. He reveled those sensations as much as he had when he had felt them for the first time as a teenager.
Soon, in spite of himself, his hand had worked its way up Jennifer’s thighs and was now massaging that small sensitive spot though her panties. She shared his impatience, and reached down between her own legs to pull the front of her panties away, his hand went in automatically. His fingers found her crease and all its slender pieces completely wet. He slid the pad of his middle from her clitoris down across the rest of her sensitive spots a few times before pushing it gently inside. She didn’t moan, but panted softly, rocking against his hand. She continued to massage him through his jeans. That was fine for now. Kenneth meant to warm her up completely, perhaps even finish her off, before she began to return any of his favors.
He continued to work his fingers on her. Her breath and tongue on his neck and chin and lips; her green eyes, catching his for fleeting instants; her moans as he coaxed her to higher and higher levels of excitement, all of this swept him into a cathartic sensual extasis. It was like coming home.
After a few minutes, Kenneth drew back and looked at Jennifer’s beautiful face as she enjoyed his fingers. Her freckles blazed in the lamplight, her brown eyes were alternately shut, and wide open, stealing greedy glances at his face, glancing down occasionally at his hands. One was on her, and in her, and the other one gently clutched the soft flesh of her pelvis, which he pulled whenever he wanted to make her most sensitive places more vulnerable to his touch.
“Auwh.” Jennifer moaned exquisitely. It was a high, satisfied sound, with a note of surprise in it every so often. Watching her respond to his touch would almost be satisfaction enough.
“I want to put my mouth on you, is that okay?” he said, without easing his caresses. Jennifer only nodded. Kenneth smiled wickedly. “Say Kenneth, I want you to put your mouth on my body.” She looked a bit surprised, but attempted to play along. As she began to acquiesce, he gave a pull with his left, and carressed her exposed clitoris with big long strokes of his whole middle finger.
“Kenneth, I want you to put your ma-aaaaAH!” his touch interrupted her words completely.
“My what?” he said, smiling again, and she smiled a broad satisfied smile too. “Finish your sentence,” Kenneth continued. “or you won’t get your desert.” She finished the sentence on a single quick exhale.
“Do you want it hard, or do you want a break, do you want me to eat you gently?” This time, after a few seconds, Jennifer placed her hand on top of his, stopped it moving. She looked into his eyes, inches away from hers.
“Um, I want to tell you to be gentle,” she said between breaths, “but I actually… don’t want you to be gentle… please? Do you know what I mean?” She asked it like she thought the chances of him understanding were desperately remote. But Kenneth understood. He nodded once, and resumed stroking her with his middle finger, repeated his question.
“My pussy is… very sensitive right now, Oh!… I want you to, awh… eat me gently.”
“Get real.” Kenneth said coldly, and bit her nipple. At this, she emitted a satisfied, throaty giggle. Through it, Kenneth could hear the open-mouthed smile that was on her face.