I snap a picture of each of my outfit choices, then get the idea to send them to Leo.Which one should I wear for our outing tomorrow?I text him.
Leo responds almost instantaneously as if he were waiting by the phone for my text after we exchanged numbers earlier today. Is he harboring that first-crush bubbliness I’m suddenly floating away with?
How can I make an assessment when I haven’t seen the outfit from every angle?
I quarter turn, pop my heel, and lift the back hem of my tank, giving a better view of my assets.How’s this?
Much better.
A rush of validation tap-dances down my spine. Since the breakup, I haven’t been in touch with my sexual or sensual selves. I stuffed those relics into boxes when I moved in with Dad. Now I’m unpacking them like bodysuits from my newly returned suitcase, trying them on once more, and realizing they fit like gloves. I missed them, and I want to wear them proudly for Leo to see.
A second text pops in from Leo:Is that the waistband of a jockstrap I see?
Maaaaaaaaaaaybe.Our shirked rendezvous this afternoon becomes the only thing on my mind.
Why don’t you come back here and find out? Let’s finish what we started this morning, I send.
I wish I could, but I don’t live that close.
Boo.
His typing bubble appears, disappears, and then:But that doesn’t mean we can’t have fun this way...
My heart thumps at the enticing thought as I tug down the waistband of the tights exposing the backless underwear I’m wearing. Adjusting for lighting, I get the perfect shot and send it.You mean this way???
A minute goes by and I’m afraid I’ve overstepped. But then, I’m graced with a picture in return. It’s shirtless Leo sprawled out on a queen-sized bed, one hand behind his head giving me full permission to ogle that immaculate biceps. Lower is where it really gets good, though. He’s wearing nothing but a tiny pair of silky thin black shorts. His erection rockets up underneath them, pointing toward his belly button. I’m salivating.
That’s exactly what I meant.Next, he adds:Show me more.
I waste no time stripping down and going back into the bedroom, overcome by a rush of headiness and desire. Leaning onto my elbows, I arch my back so I can frame the front-facing camera in a way that it shows half my face and half my exposed ass up in the air.Is this the “more” you had in mind?
I’m surprised when instead of a text, I get a voice memo. When I play it, it’s Leo groaning a single word, “Fuck.” That one word unlocks me. That one growly, gravelly, hedonistic word makes the pouch of my jockstrap full and constrictive. I play it again. “Fuck.” And again. “Fuck.” Until I’m grinding my bulge into the mattress, so damn eager for touch.
Leo’s touch especially. Witnessing those strong hands expertly maneuver a shopping cart through a grocery store is somehow fueling my fantasy. What is happening to me?
I’m about to send something back when I get a photo. Leo has lost the shorts. They’re bunched up at the end of his bed around his large bare feet, and his erection is on full display. My mouth waters more, remembering the taste and warmth of him from this morning. The slick saltiness that could become my favorite flavor if I got another ounce of it.
I scoot over on the bed so my ass is in line with the mirror over the dresser. Maneuvering, I’m able to take an over-the-shoulder picture that leaves nothing to the imagination. I’m frisky, fearless, and shaking off any inhibition as I send back a voice message: “I want you to rail me like you promised.”
Next thing I know, my phone is ringing.
FaceTime from Leo Min.
I accept, and Leo’s handsome face takes up my whole screen. His hot chocolate eyes are rolling back in his head and he’s moaning. “You don’t know how badly I want that right now,” Leo whisper-groans. He’s got wireless earbuds in so I can hear him loud and clear, and it’s like he’s right in the room with me. He’s back in this bed, hard and ready for me. “I want that final installment of our repayment plan.”
With my phone up against a pillow, I close my eyes and continue writhing into the bed, making the springs squeak but I couldn’t care less if anyone hears. “Tell me what the final repayment is.”
“This.” He flips the camera so I can watch him touching himself, thrusting his erection into his wet fist, slippery head poking out the top every other second. I imagine that he’s inside me. I reach a hand back and press a finger to my hole. “I want to give you this.” I like the dominant tone he takes with me. It makes my mind go blank and allows me to access a primal itch that he scratches skillfully with the scrape of his voice. “But I don’t think you’re quite ready for it.”
“I’m not?” I ask, opening my eyes and noticing that he’s pulled the phone away. I have a clear shot of his body from the side. Part of his face. All of his torso. His throbbing penis and that dark patch of trimmed pubic hair right above.
He shakes his head wearing a devilish grin. “What did you do with that cucumber?”
Confused, I say, “It’s in the mini fridge. Why?”
“Because I want you to use it on yourself.”
Embarrassment burrows through me. “Uh, I don’t know about that.” While Buckley and I were open, the sex we had together and with others was mostly vanilla. We never much got into toys, especially not ones you could theoretically slice up for a salad. Oh, God.
