A Slice of Pi

pitattoo.jpgShe held out her wineglass, and I filled it four-fifths of the way up with chardonnay. Her eyes widened.

“Trying to get me drunk?”

I leaned back against the kitchen counter, taking the time to survey her. I smiled what I hoped was my cockiest smile.

“Lady, I don’t even know you.”

She took a sip and cut me a look over the rim of her glass.

“But that’s one hell of a dress.”

In a ranch house party full of people in jeans and pullovers, she was wearing a black velvet halter dress and black cowboy boots.

“You think? It is New Year’s Eve, after all.”

She turned around, revealing the back, which cut low — almost to her ass — framing a long stretch of silky, white skin and a tiny tattoo of the Greek letter Pi low at the base of her spine. Her dark hair hid the nape of her neck.

I fought the urge to reach out and run my fingers across her skin and instead took a gulp of my wine.

“Hmmm,” I said, appraisingly.

“Go on.” She looked back at me over her shoulder. I saw the faint beginnings of goosebumps on her skin, rising under my gaze.

“Um. It makes me want to…” I blushed. “Never mind.”

She turned to face me.

“No, really, go on. It makes you want to what?”

I looked down at my shoes, avoiding her eyes, and said in low voice: “It makes me want to make love to the small of your back.”

She smiled at me and turned away again.

“Here?” she asked, pointing to her tiny tattoo. “On Pi? Why, that could go on infinitely.”

I laid my thumb very low on her back, at the edge of her dress. Right between the two dimples that marked the base of her spine. Right on the tattoo.

I lingered there for a moment and then pulled my hand away.

A dress like that should be illegal.

She paused for a moment and a light shiver ran up and down her back, like a horse shaking off flies. Then she turned to me.

“And how would you do that?”

I stepped aside to give someone access to the sink, and another person reached between us for a bottle of wine, mumbling “’cuse me”. Still my eyes were locked on hers.

“I guess I could show you…”

“Here?” Her eyebrows raised mockingly as she looked around the kitchen.

“How ‘bout there?” I cocked my head towards the bedroom at the foot of the stairs. “I think the door locks.”

She paused for a moment, looking at me thoughtfully.

“Well, I know a dare when I see one.” She turned and walked away from me, the full skirt of the velvet dress swirling around her legs.

I gulped down the last of my wine and followed her.

After all, a dare’s a dare.

The room was dark and I reached for the light switch, and then I heard her voice.

“No, don’t turn it on.”

So I didn’t.

“Come here,” she said. I walked across the room to where she was sitting on the edge of the bed. We didn’t touch.

“Now exactly how would you make love to the small of my back?”

“You’ll have to lay down,” I said.

She leaned back on the bed.

“No,” I said. “This is simply a demonstration. Face down, on the bed, lengthwise.”

In the darkened room, the black of her dress melted into the coverlet, but her skin glowed in the tiny amount of light that leaked through the window. I could hear the party heating up outside the door, the band beginning to play, and voices raising to be heard above the music.

She stretched out there, her forehead resting on her hands, legs spread wide, covered by the flow of velvet. I kicked off my shoes and climbed up on the bed and knelt between her legs and sat back on my heels. I could feel the heat of her thighs through my jeans. Her ass rose up in a sweet mound in front of me, and I could see her back rising and falling, gently, with her breath.

“I’d begin something like this,” I said.

I placed my hands on the bed on each side of her waist and leaned forward over her, touching just the tip of my tongue to the small of her back. Then shifting my weight forward, being careful not to lean on her, I slowly traced a small, wet line up her spine, as far as I could go. I heard the sharp intake of her breath, and before I sat back on my heels again, I realized my arms were trembling.

She turned her head so I could hear her, lifting her hair up and away from her face and neck, her cheek on the coverlet.

“Can you do that again?” she asked, voice breathy now. Her arms spread, palms pressing into the bed, as though bracing herself.

“Say please.”

Softly.

“Oh, please?”

This time I pressed the entire wide flat of my tongue to her spine, right on the letter Pi, and began stroking it up her back. I could hear her begin to breathe through her mouth, so I went to work in earnest, licking my way up her spine with feather strokes and alternating with wide strokes. When her hips began to move, I pressed the heel of my hand into the small of her back.

“Shhh. Lay still.”

“Sweet Jesus,” she mumbled.

I leaned a little farther forward, turning my head, and pressed my open mouth into the small of her back. I paused there, swirling the tip of my tongue on her skin, inside the ring of my lips, and then began to suck gently at the deepest part of the curve of her back. Her ass lifted slightly in response.

“Am I doing okay?”

Her ragged breath was my only response.

“Good, then I’ll go on.”

She moaned softly.

Again I sat back on my heels. She waited, not moving, but I could feel the tension in her thighs.

Taking my time and moving quietly, I unbuttoned my starched shirt and untucked it, sliding it off my shoulders.

“This is the massage portion of your demonstration…”

I placed my hands on her low back and began to massage in sweeping strokes, from the edge of her dress to the base of her shoulderblades. My thumbs worked their way up her spine.

“God, that feels good.”

As I continued to work her muscles, I could feel her melting under my hands. I wanted her relaxed, but not too relaxed.

Time to move on.

I stopped and stretched out my body, bringing the peaks of my nipples to the naked skin of her back. Supporting myself on my hands, I began to lightly brush my tits back and forth across the tender skin there.

Suddenly her breathing faded beneath the drumming in my own ears. The sounds of the party faded away. It seemed my entire world had condensed down into this warm patch of skin on her back and the electric connection with my nipples. It was my breath that was ragged now. I was losing control.

“Wait.”

Her first request didn’t even pierce my consciousness. She had to say it again:“Wait.”

I sat back, panting a little.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah,” she said. “That was one outrageous demonstration.”

“I could go on.” I know I sounded pathetically hopeful.

I felt her hands at her hips, gathering the velvet dress and creeping it up her thighs.

“I was hoping you would.”

###

8 responses to “A Slice of Pi

  1. Sweet Jesus.
    I’d forgotten how your stories made me want ot go out and make out with the first hot girl I met..

    f*.

    I’m speechless.

    adila (the one withOUT the porn connection 🙂

  2. Tippy Typewriter

    Yum. That is all I can say.

  3. There really is no such thing as too much of a good thing.

  4. Followed your link from twitter yesterday and was like “DAMN!”. Great writing. So glad I was intrigued by the Pi story. Awesome hot dyke erotica like this gets major props from me. I’ll be reading…

  5. The way erotica should be written~ thank you! 😉

  6. unf. That’s a perfect read right before bed; a sweet dream guarantee.

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