This suited me fine. In fact, if he hadn’t been in charge I’d probably have orgasmed myself into an exhausted coma. I’d come pretty close to doing this on my own in the past—days when every hour of self-pleasure just fed the next, until my libido was so revved, my body so sensitive, that only a serious interruption, or drugged sleep, could cut me off. Aaron was the first lover to understand how much this bored me. I’d been sleeping with men who were as easy as I was. I lost my respect for them once I took my clothes off and they turned into eager, heavy-breathing schoolboys, groping clumsily, thrilled they could make me come—and they always could. He was different. We had four dates in which he touched me, flirted, even kissed me—hard, possessively—but put me away from him and sent me home after a couple of hours. ?I want you,? I had told him, stone sober, my hands fisting his jacket outside the door to my own lonely apartment. ?I know,? he said. Then his hand in my hair was holding. Pointing to the barstool next to her, “Hi, can I sit here with you?” Gracie asked.“Uh…sure!” Candy answered. Candy’s eyes bulged out as Gracie moved onto the barstool. Her top was loose and her tit came into full view as she sat down.“Oops!” Gracie blushed, pulling her blouse back over her breast. “Sorry about that, I’m Gracie,” she said, extending her hand.“Candy,” she replied as she gently took her hand. “I love your tits, I mean top!” Candy stammered. Through a shy smile, “Well, thank you, that was the plan,” Gracie answered.The bartender came up and Gracie ordered a Crown and Diet Coke, double, tall. “And bring another for my new friend too, please.”Gracie glanced down at Candy’s legs, noticing her skirt had ridden up above the top of her stockings. Sexy, she thought. “I like your stockings, Candy, and your legs are beautiful too!” she managed to get out without stuttering.“Thanks!” Candy said, smiling. “I hate full nylons.”“Me too, girl! Thigh-highs are so much more comfortable.
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