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Samantha is going to be mine. She just doesn’t know it yet.
As colleagues, we get results, we make things happen, and currently, we’re abroad filming the end of season finale for the show we work on. Landing a coveted second season surely means we’ve made it! Two years in and we’re doing pretty good in regards to the show—just not so good when it comes to me getting her into bed.
I was sure it’d happen here. During a bit of downtime in the sun, I imagined she’d finally see me as her partner in other things, but she’s still being as professional as ever, and it drives me crazy.
We started off as enemies. She bristled from the get go. Gradually I realised what the issue was.
I remember the day…
It was the pilot episode and I walked on set, the lead in the new TV comedy set to be the next big thing. I had bravado and all the cockiness in the world, until I saw her.
She wore a red pantsuit that showed off her sculpted ass to perfection—a thin white cami accentuating her ample breasts.
Red lipstick.
Red woman.
I was the guy who’d landed the lead role because of my cockiness, yet I got one look at her and felt like a complete novice. She watched me shrewdly as I tried to get to grips with playing a new part, making me nervous because she looked pissed off.
Even the way I spoke seemed to irritate her, and she unnerved me more than I’d been prepared for.
This red woman was watching me intently, and I was fluffing my lines. Damn.
I said to one of the runners during a break, “Who’s the red woman over there?”
“Ah, that’s our producer, Sam.” He then lowered his voice to add, “She’s hard to please.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off her ass, but her eyes and hair also had me, not to mention those sensational breasts. She carried herself confidently, and that totally did it for me.
“She’s fucking hot,” I told the runner.
“Yep, but she’s a bit of a tyrant. This is her first big show.” He sniffed and shook his head. “She’s got a lot to prove.”
The director chose that moment to pop into my vision and beckon me to join him at his director’s chair.
“Yo, Sylvan… what’s the drag? C’mon, man. Liven up a bit.” He was British but spoke like an American, “Has the Big Dick energy you possessed at your audition been spirited away? Or what?”
I didn’t want to admit fully how much I felt nervous about the woman staring from the other side of the set but I needed to break the ice… “I dunno, but your producer keeps giving me daggers,” I explained.
“Look, man,” he said, drawling, “your screen test was fab! Just rinse and repeat. Get your mojo sorted out and get out there. Sam’s just as nervous as you, all right? She’ll loosen up in a bit.”
I had a love scene of sorts to film. Me and my onscreen girlfriend were to have perfunctory sex, or, what was meant to be perfunctory…
It turned out that as we got beneath the covers to film this bit, my scene partner realised I was erect. She tried to pretend she wasn’t enjoying my hard-on rubbing against her modesty cloth, but I could very much feel she was actually enjoying it.
From that day on, I became known around the place as Big Dick Sylv.
“Whoa, man,” said the director afterwards, “I mean… I think this show is gonna be a hit. Don’t ask me why. But for the love of God, let’s not give it all up at once.”
For a long time, Samantha saw me as Big Dick Sylv and nothing else. She despised me for my lothario reputation. I admit, I dated a few of the cast and crew, but only because I had to get my frustration out somehow. Pining for her secretly all the while.
So with that underlying tension, from me at least, we pushed on through, filming episode after episode until here we are, the season finale in a budget-busting location with a wardrobe to suit. Not that I’m complaining…
The warmth seems to have thawed the ice maiden—or maybe it’s because the end is in sight and she has begun to relax—whatever it is, she’s asked the director to give everyone the afternoon off. They’ve all gone into town leaving me and her by the pool… alone…
We keep looking at one another from our loungers which are placed side by side—even mimicking one another, for fuck’s sake. Could we be any more suited?
I don’t know what I can do to make myself more available. I don’t sleep around anymore, I haven’t been dating, and I’m here with her right now when I could be back in my trailer screwing either the French actress who’s playing my love interest, or any number of extras who’ve already propositioned me having heard the rumours about “Big Dick Sylv”.
“What do you think, Sam? How about sharing some of that sun cream with me? I’m starting to burn.” Only my knees, but maybe she’ll take pity on me. “I’d be up for it, if you wanted to rub my back…”
The heady scent of the cream she’s already spread on her luscious body, those delicious legs I’ve had to watch being smothered in the stuff…
Just the thought of her rubbing my back is getting me hard.
She lowers her sunglasses, gives me a dirty look, and says through those pouty red lips, “I’ll go grab some ice lollies. It’s getting hot. Too hot for me to rub your back.”
She gets up and slowly saunters away, my eyes drawn to her body as she goes.
When’s she going to realise I’m right here? I’m close to her own age. More handsome than the director too, that’s for sure, if that’s who she has in mind. I’ve got a constant and massive hard-on for her.
My red woman.
While she’s gone, my sexual fantasies spiral out of control…
Maybe she’ll return in a minute, naked and carrying a bottle of lube, aching for me to fuck her by the poolside.
I could try to talk myself down off this mountain of fantasies I’ve already amassed, but there’s no chance. Two years of wanting her, building it up in my head, and I’m unable to stop my thoughts running riot at any opportunity.
I assume she’s heading to the trailers nearby to find something ice-cold. She’ll probably be a while. Usually, if she bumps into someone, they’ll hold her in conversation for a time. Samantha is popular among cast and crew alike—are they being friendly, or are they tapping her for her inside knowledge of this industry…
Maybe she’s off hiding as she can no longer hide her feelings for me… I can but hope!
Fuck me, though; I’d be happy if she just let me lick her pussy.
Or anything, really. A kiss. A touch. Anything.
The simplest thing, like her hands moving over my chest while I lie here sunbathing, would surely be confirmation that she feels the same. She wants me. I would take that touch and run with it.
Fuck it, I need to masturbate.
I can’t get through the rest of the day until I have.
Also, maybe she’ll come around the corner on her way back, spy on me… then join in.
I’m playing with fire but I don’t care. The scent of that suncream which evokes memories of long, hot summers of the past and holidays gone by, has got me all wound down and vibing. I’m floating on a Sam and sun summer’s day high and I don’t want to climb down off this euphoric belief that maybe, just maybe, she actually does feel the same way.
How she sauntered just then…
Pouted.
Plus, she was the one who wanted to spend time with me today. I know we’ve spent it mostly speculating as to the future of the show—and that’s been important to talk about—but I won’t really get a say in things. That’ll be up to the director and creator. Yet she’s here, with me.
I grow more convinced she’s trying to figure out where I see my career heading—but is it on behalf of the show she’s concerned? Or is she concerned on behalf of herself?
Fuck!
What if…
Her bottle of suncream is beckoning me to pick it up so I do. Sniffing it, I get hit with a wave of desire. It reminds me so much of her.
I check around and see nobody in sight. Who’d see if I stole some of this and rubbed it all over myself?
Starting with my chest, neck and stomach, I’m imagining her hands all over me, and when I reach down to my crotch, yes, I’m starting to get hard—just the smell of this suncream.
In seconds, I have my shorts off and my cock in a firm grip.
This is all for you, Sam.
All this is yours.
She’d love riding me every which way. She has the body to ride me morning, noon and night.
The naughtiest thought crosses my mind. The suncream. Slickening my dick.
I waste no time in finding out if this fantasy I now have, of her slipping my shorts down and using the suncream as lube, would be as good as it sounds.
Jesus, that scent. And yeah. Fuck yeah.
My cock’s fully inflated with a few strokes and I’m using two hands, like I imagine she would, trying to stroke the whole length of me at once.
The cream absorbs quickly but it’s that scent I’m getting off on. Checking around again, I see she’s still not heading back.
I add some saliva into the mix, and wonder, if she is in fact behind some bushes and is watching, is she imagining coating me with her own spit?
I damn well hope so.
It’s a struggle to remember the last time I was outdoors and enjoying a leisurely wank like this. Isn’t this indulgent, but actually, what people ought to be doing on holiday?
More suncream is needed and I slap a lot more on this time, the sensual, heady scents of myself, nature and her working me up. I don’t care if she turns up now and catches me like this. I’m beyond caring, so lost to this feeling. Would she enjoy the sight of me playing with my big dick? I reckon so. I reckon maybe she’d watch for a while. My member all messy with cream, spit and precum while she hides somewhere, pretending to be prim and proper, when she’d rather come over here and strip, slide straight onto me and drain the juice out of my balls.
Or is she going to take notes? Watching how I enjoy touching myself. Taking my time. Enjoying what I possess and the little motions that arouse but fail to bring me off.
Gripping the base and playing with the glans gently. Stroking and massaging my balls.
Carefully sliding my hand up and down the length at leisure. A length many women have enjoyed sucking or fucking.
But today’s all about Samantha and how she’d enjoy me. Us. Our sex.
I think she’d toy with me for a while with her mouth, little licks and sucks. She’d shove her tongue hard into my sac but would be gentle with my cockhead, swirling her tongue, delivering much-needed lube in the form of her spit.
Then I’d be treated to a hard wank.
A viciously hard wank.
So I start giving myself one.
Her eyes dark and feral watching for my reactions. A hand of hers disappearing somewhere and then a whimper releasing from her mouth as she touches herself, too.
I can smell and hear the slipperiness of her cunt even as she’s slamming her other hand up and down my cock, demanding I come even though all I want is to plunge into her slick entrance.
Just when I think she’s going to stop wanking me and instead sit astride, she gives me a dark look and waits. Just that look and the sound of her still touching herself…
I start to come without much help and as I explode, she prolongs my pleasure with more intense stroking—making me cry out for her. Fuck! My whole body spasms hard because it all seems so damn real to me.
Sometime after splattering all over myself, I realise I am in fact lying here naked in public. Anyone might have seen. She might be back any second.
Yet I’m too languid to move. It’s too hot to dress now, surely? Sweat is pouring from my every pore and if she were to find me like this on her return, perhaps she wouldn’t be disgusted at all. Maybe she’d shrug her shoulders and grin lopsidedly at the sight of me like this—satiated and spent—all because of her.
Fuck!
Her heels crunch on gravel nearby and I have about five seconds to get my shorts back on.
I care too much about what she thinks to let myself get too carried away.
I’ve barely got them back on when she comes around the corner. I have to improvise so she doesn’t see anything. The suncream bottle gets tossed into a bush in case she realises how much of it I’ve used.
Sam seems unawares as she hands me an ice lolly and retakes her own lounger, coolly returning to her formerly recumbent position.
She doesn’t seem to suspect a thing.
Unless she’s a good actress.
If she did see everything… my mind wanders again…
Tonight, she’ll creep into my trailer in a robe and nothing but. She’ll drop it to the floor and whisper, “Did you wash off all the suncream?”
“Yes.”
She swiftly helps me remove my t-shirt and shorts, then beckons me to bed.
“I watched you… what were you thinking about?” she says breathily.
“You. Only you.”
“You’re much too cheeky, Sylvan,” she chuckles, while reaching out for me. “But with such a big cock, maybe I could overlook that.”
I give her my best cheeky grin, winking. “I imagined you being freakishly good at edging me… and I imagined you demanding everything.”
“I would,” she mouths, “I will.” The moment is intensified by the scent of her arousal filling my nostrils.
“I knew it.”
She bites her lip, then in her husky voice, says, “I don’t want to do anything else in TV… if it’s not with you.” She takes my hand and places it on her bare breast, her hard nipple pushing into my palm. Spreading her thighs, she giggles and suggests she wants me to lick her. But before I do that, I need reassurance.
“Samantha, this isn’t just sex for me. I want more.” I shiver, shaking. “I need to know. What are you saying? What are you asking?”
“We’ll go on, even if the show does not.”
Then she kisses me, wraps her arms around me…
CLAP!
I wake from another reverie to the realisation that most of my lolly has started to melt down my arm and drip all over me. Shit. I need to get a handle on my imagination.
She claps again. “Sylvan, where did you go?”
“Uh, well, don’t think you’d want to know.”
“Hmm.”
I turn my head and notice her expression is open and questioning.
“If you must know Sam, I was just thinking about us.” When she doesn’t rush off in disgust, and instead looks at me seriously, I murmur, “If there is an us, potentially?”
She purses her lips. “I don’t know what you mean, Sylvan.”
I can’t help but bark with laughter. “Yep, thought so.”
Typical Sam.
I clean myself up as best I can with my discarded shirt, mopping up the lolly. I go back to staring into space, avoiding any further embarrassing conversations.
However, after a while, I’m shocked to find she’s blotting out the light—standing right in front me. She takes a seat on the edge of my lounger.
The next thing I know, she’s leaning in close. “Don’t say anything,” she says, “don’t move.”
Reaching for me, she holds my cheek and searches my eyes. I’m wondering if this is another damn illusion or if this one is real.
When she pushes her mouth to mine, encouraging my lips to part, I know it’s no longer a dream. Sensations rapidly overcome me as I kiss her back, licking between her lips, her tongue moving to meet mine in gentle caresses. Shifting forward slightly, I touch my hand lightly to her shoulder. She whimpers softly as I fit my mouth to hers and kiss her deeper, my stomach and loins cramping with the intensity of our kiss.
“Sam…”
She goes still and I stop.
I press my lips together and pull back.
She still doesn’t look disgusted and I’m shocked.
“In answer to your question, Sylv… there is definitely an us.”
Well, well, the red woman is mine after all.
The End
As colleagues, we get results, we make things happen, and currently, we’re abroad filming the end of season finale for the show we work on. Landing a coveted second season surely means we’ve made it! Two years in and we’re doing pretty good in regards to the show—just not so good when it comes to me getting her into bed.
I was sure it’d happen here. During a bit of downtime in the sun, I imagined she’d finally see me as her partner in other things, but she’s still being as professional as ever, and it drives me crazy.
We started off as enemies. She bristled from the get go. Gradually I realised what the issue was.
I remember the day…
It was the pilot episode and I walked on set, the lead in the new TV comedy set to be the next big thing. I had bravado and all the cockiness in the world, until I saw her.
She wore a red pantsuit that showed off her sculpted ass to perfection—a thin white cami accentuating her ample breasts.
Red lipstick.
Red woman.
I was the guy who’d landed the lead role because of my cockiness, yet I got one look at her and felt like a complete novice. She watched me shrewdly as I tried to get to grips with playing a new part, making me nervous because she looked pissed off.
Even the way I spoke seemed to irritate her, and she unnerved me more than I’d been prepared for.
This red woman was watching me intently, and I was fluffing my lines. Damn.
I said to one of the runners during a break, “Who’s the red woman over there?”
“Ah, that’s our producer, Sam.” He then lowered his voice to add, “She’s hard to please.”
I couldn’t take my eyes off her ass, but her eyes and hair also had me, not to mention those sensational breasts. She carried herself confidently, and that totally did it for me.
“She’s fucking hot,” I told the runner.
“Yep, but she’s a bit of a tyrant. This is her first big show.” He sniffed and shook his head. “She’s got a lot to prove.”
The director chose that moment to pop into my vision and beckon me to join him at his director’s chair.
“Yo, Sylvan… what’s the drag? C’mon, man. Liven up a bit.” He was British but spoke like an American, “Has the Big Dick energy you possessed at your audition been spirited away? Or what?”
I didn’t want to admit fully how much I felt nervous about the woman staring from the other side of the set but I needed to break the ice… “I dunno, but your producer keeps giving me daggers,” I explained.
“Look, man,” he said, drawling, “your screen test was fab! Just rinse and repeat. Get your mojo sorted out and get out there. Sam’s just as nervous as you, all right? She’ll loosen up in a bit.”
I had a love scene of sorts to film. Me and my onscreen girlfriend were to have perfunctory sex, or, what was meant to be perfunctory…
It turned out that as we got beneath the covers to film this bit, my scene partner realised I was erect. She tried to pretend she wasn’t enjoying my hard-on rubbing against her modesty cloth, but I could very much feel she was actually enjoying it.
From that day on, I became known around the place as Big Dick Sylv.
“Whoa, man,” said the director afterwards, “I mean… I think this show is gonna be a hit. Don’t ask me why. But for the love of God, let’s not give it all up at once.”
For a long time, Samantha saw me as Big Dick Sylv and nothing else. She despised me for my lothario reputation. I admit, I dated a few of the cast and crew, but only because I had to get my frustration out somehow. Pining for her secretly all the while.
So with that underlying tension, from me at least, we pushed on through, filming episode after episode until here we are, the season finale in a budget-busting location with a wardrobe to suit. Not that I’m complaining…
The warmth seems to have thawed the ice maiden—or maybe it’s because the end is in sight and she has begun to relax—whatever it is, she’s asked the director to give everyone the afternoon off. They’ve all gone into town leaving me and her by the pool… alone…
We keep looking at one another from our loungers which are placed side by side—even mimicking one another, for fuck’s sake. Could we be any more suited?
I don’t know what I can do to make myself more available. I don’t sleep around anymore, I haven’t been dating, and I’m here with her right now when I could be back in my trailer screwing either the French actress who’s playing my love interest, or any number of extras who’ve already propositioned me having heard the rumours about “Big Dick Sylv”.
“What do you think, Sam? How about sharing some of that sun cream with me? I’m starting to burn.” Only my knees, but maybe she’ll take pity on me. “I’d be up for it, if you wanted to rub my back…”
The heady scent of the cream she’s already spread on her luscious body, those delicious legs I’ve had to watch being smothered in the stuff…
Just the thought of her rubbing my back is getting me hard.
She lowers her sunglasses, gives me a dirty look, and says through those pouty red lips, “I’ll go grab some ice lollies. It’s getting hot. Too hot for me to rub your back.”
She gets up and slowly saunters away, my eyes drawn to her body as she goes.
When’s she going to realise I’m right here? I’m close to her own age. More handsome than the director too, that’s for sure, if that’s who she has in mind. I’ve got a constant and massive hard-on for her.
My red woman.
While she’s gone, my sexual fantasies spiral out of control…
Maybe she’ll return in a minute, naked and carrying a bottle of lube, aching for me to fuck her by the poolside.
I could try to talk myself down off this mountain of fantasies I’ve already amassed, but there’s no chance. Two years of wanting her, building it up in my head, and I’m unable to stop my thoughts running riot at any opportunity.
I assume she’s heading to the trailers nearby to find something ice-cold. She’ll probably be a while. Usually, if she bumps into someone, they’ll hold her in conversation for a time. Samantha is popular among cast and crew alike—are they being friendly, or are they tapping her for her inside knowledge of this industry…
Maybe she’s off hiding as she can no longer hide her feelings for me… I can but hope!
Fuck me, though; I’d be happy if she just let me lick her pussy.
Or anything, really. A kiss. A touch. Anything.
The simplest thing, like her hands moving over my chest while I lie here sunbathing, would surely be confirmation that she feels the same. She wants me. I would take that touch and run with it.
Fuck it, I need to masturbate.
I can’t get through the rest of the day until I have.
Also, maybe she’ll come around the corner on her way back, spy on me… then join in.
I’m playing with fire but I don’t care. The scent of that suncream which evokes memories of long, hot summers of the past and holidays gone by, has got me all wound down and vibing. I’m floating on a Sam and sun summer’s day high and I don’t want to climb down off this euphoric belief that maybe, just maybe, she actually does feel the same way.
How she sauntered just then…
Pouted.
Plus, she was the one who wanted to spend time with me today. I know we’ve spent it mostly speculating as to the future of the show—and that’s been important to talk about—but I won’t really get a say in things. That’ll be up to the director and creator. Yet she’s here, with me.
I grow more convinced she’s trying to figure out where I see my career heading—but is it on behalf of the show she’s concerned? Or is she concerned on behalf of herself?
Fuck!
What if…
Her bottle of suncream is beckoning me to pick it up so I do. Sniffing it, I get hit with a wave of desire. It reminds me so much of her.
I check around and see nobody in sight. Who’d see if I stole some of this and rubbed it all over myself?
Starting with my chest, neck and stomach, I’m imagining her hands all over me, and when I reach down to my crotch, yes, I’m starting to get hard—just the smell of this suncream.
In seconds, I have my shorts off and my cock in a firm grip.
This is all for you, Sam.
All this is yours.
She’d love riding me every which way. She has the body to ride me morning, noon and night.
The naughtiest thought crosses my mind. The suncream. Slickening my dick.
I waste no time in finding out if this fantasy I now have, of her slipping my shorts down and using the suncream as lube, would be as good as it sounds.
Jesus, that scent. And yeah. Fuck yeah.
My cock’s fully inflated with a few strokes and I’m using two hands, like I imagine she would, trying to stroke the whole length of me at once.
The cream absorbs quickly but it’s that scent I’m getting off on. Checking around again, I see she’s still not heading back.
I add some saliva into the mix, and wonder, if she is in fact behind some bushes and is watching, is she imagining coating me with her own spit?
I damn well hope so.
It’s a struggle to remember the last time I was outdoors and enjoying a leisurely wank like this. Isn’t this indulgent, but actually, what people ought to be doing on holiday?
More suncream is needed and I slap a lot more on this time, the sensual, heady scents of myself, nature and her working me up. I don’t care if she turns up now and catches me like this. I’m beyond caring, so lost to this feeling. Would she enjoy the sight of me playing with my big dick? I reckon so. I reckon maybe she’d watch for a while. My member all messy with cream, spit and precum while she hides somewhere, pretending to be prim and proper, when she’d rather come over here and strip, slide straight onto me and drain the juice out of my balls.
Or is she going to take notes? Watching how I enjoy touching myself. Taking my time. Enjoying what I possess and the little motions that arouse but fail to bring me off.
Gripping the base and playing with the glans gently. Stroking and massaging my balls.
Carefully sliding my hand up and down the length at leisure. A length many women have enjoyed sucking or fucking.
But today’s all about Samantha and how she’d enjoy me. Us. Our sex.
I think she’d toy with me for a while with her mouth, little licks and sucks. She’d shove her tongue hard into my sac but would be gentle with my cockhead, swirling her tongue, delivering much-needed lube in the form of her spit.
Then I’d be treated to a hard wank.
A viciously hard wank.
So I start giving myself one.
Her eyes dark and feral watching for my reactions. A hand of hers disappearing somewhere and then a whimper releasing from her mouth as she touches herself, too.
I can smell and hear the slipperiness of her cunt even as she’s slamming her other hand up and down my cock, demanding I come even though all I want is to plunge into her slick entrance.
Just when I think she’s going to stop wanking me and instead sit astride, she gives me a dark look and waits. Just that look and the sound of her still touching herself…
I start to come without much help and as I explode, she prolongs my pleasure with more intense stroking—making me cry out for her. Fuck! My whole body spasms hard because it all seems so damn real to me.
Sometime after splattering all over myself, I realise I am in fact lying here naked in public. Anyone might have seen. She might be back any second.
Yet I’m too languid to move. It’s too hot to dress now, surely? Sweat is pouring from my every pore and if she were to find me like this on her return, perhaps she wouldn’t be disgusted at all. Maybe she’d shrug her shoulders and grin lopsidedly at the sight of me like this—satiated and spent—all because of her.
Fuck!
Her heels crunch on gravel nearby and I have about five seconds to get my shorts back on.
I care too much about what she thinks to let myself get too carried away.
I’ve barely got them back on when she comes around the corner. I have to improvise so she doesn’t see anything. The suncream bottle gets tossed into a bush in case she realises how much of it I’ve used.
Sam seems unawares as she hands me an ice lolly and retakes her own lounger, coolly returning to her formerly recumbent position.
She doesn’t seem to suspect a thing.
Unless she’s a good actress.
If she did see everything… my mind wanders again…
Tonight, she’ll creep into my trailer in a robe and nothing but. She’ll drop it to the floor and whisper, “Did you wash off all the suncream?”
“Yes.”
She swiftly helps me remove my t-shirt and shorts, then beckons me to bed.
“I watched you… what were you thinking about?” she says breathily.
“You. Only you.”
“You’re much too cheeky, Sylvan,” she chuckles, while reaching out for me. “But with such a big cock, maybe I could overlook that.”
I give her my best cheeky grin, winking. “I imagined you being freakishly good at edging me… and I imagined you demanding everything.”
“I would,” she mouths, “I will.” The moment is intensified by the scent of her arousal filling my nostrils.
“I knew it.”
She bites her lip, then in her husky voice, says, “I don’t want to do anything else in TV… if it’s not with you.” She takes my hand and places it on her bare breast, her hard nipple pushing into my palm. Spreading her thighs, she giggles and suggests she wants me to lick her. But before I do that, I need reassurance.
“Samantha, this isn’t just sex for me. I want more.” I shiver, shaking. “I need to know. What are you saying? What are you asking?”
“We’ll go on, even if the show does not.”
Then she kisses me, wraps her arms around me…
CLAP!
I wake from another reverie to the realisation that most of my lolly has started to melt down my arm and drip all over me. Shit. I need to get a handle on my imagination.
She claps again. “Sylvan, where did you go?”
“Uh, well, don’t think you’d want to know.”
“Hmm.”
I turn my head and notice her expression is open and questioning.
“If you must know Sam, I was just thinking about us.” When she doesn’t rush off in disgust, and instead looks at me seriously, I murmur, “If there is an us, potentially?”
She purses her lips. “I don’t know what you mean, Sylvan.”
I can’t help but bark with laughter. “Yep, thought so.”
Typical Sam.
I clean myself up as best I can with my discarded shirt, mopping up the lolly. I go back to staring into space, avoiding any further embarrassing conversations.
However, after a while, I’m shocked to find she’s blotting out the light—standing right in front me. She takes a seat on the edge of my lounger.
The next thing I know, she’s leaning in close. “Don’t say anything,” she says, “don’t move.”
Reaching for me, she holds my cheek and searches my eyes. I’m wondering if this is another damn illusion or if this one is real.
When she pushes her mouth to mine, encouraging my lips to part, I know it’s no longer a dream. Sensations rapidly overcome me as I kiss her back, licking between her lips, her tongue moving to meet mine in gentle caresses. Shifting forward slightly, I touch my hand lightly to her shoulder. She whimpers softly as I fit my mouth to hers and kiss her deeper, my stomach and loins cramping with the intensity of our kiss.
“Sam…”
She goes still and I stop.
I press my lips together and pull back.
She still doesn’t look disgusted and I’m shocked.
“In answer to your question, Sylv… there is definitely an us.”
Well, well, the red woman is mine after all.
The End
