It was a passionate kiss that made my heart race and my head spin. Unless that was down to the vodka, but I didn’t think it was. Not this time.
Certainly, the alcohol had helped things along a little. There had always been a frisson of interest, an undercurrent of intent never expressed, with neither party willing to risk the shame of potential rejection. But now, with alcohol warming my senses, thawing my reserve - and a tongue in my mouth that didn't belong to me - I was beginning to feel more sure of the situation.
The evening up to that point had been fun, lots of noise, lots of people. We had been most tactile, my friend and I. Embracing each other at every opportunity, trading passing caresses, a casual finger trailed along an inner arm or the back of the neck, sensual lips brushed against sensitive ear, a whisper stirring perfumed hair. And all the time we’d been as uncertain as everyone else in the room – were we for real, did we mean it? We’d sat, for a while, in the throng, shouting over the noise, making uninteresting conversation with our fellow party-goers. I gradually, and with great delight, became aware of my friend’s fingertip tracing a delicate pattern over the nape of my neck, under my hair, hidden from view. I’d smiled and leaned a little closer, enjoying the feeling of intimacy in such a communal setting. Shifting position slightly, masking my arm movement from the rest of the room, I'd placed my hand on my friend’s back, effortlessly finding the small strip of bare skin where her top didn’t quite meet her jeans. Such soft skin, warm and scented, begged to be caressed. I'd found myself wishing I could explore further, to touch and be touched, free of the constraints of the crowd.
When my friend turned her head, to smile her delight, our eyes met and a moment of unspoken communication passed between us. The unasked question was answered, it seemed. We rose from our seats simultaneously and left the crowded, noisy room, to exit into the cool night air. Above us the moon was full and round, rich and fecund, that eternal symbol of womanhood, lighting the deserted gardens with a soft glow. As we crossed the frost-coloured lawns we left dewy footprints in the grass, lazily entwined, much as our fingers now were.
When we reached the Corsican Pine we stopped, wordlessly turning to fully embrace each other. She tilted up her head to meet my ruby red lips descending toward her, and abandoned herself totally to the kiss. The scent of her filled my senses, the feel of her lips thrilled me. Firm yet yielding, soft and demanding, insistent yet gentle. I thought I might never come up for breath, content to drown in these unexplored waters.
My hands had found their earlier position on the small of my friend’s back, softly stroking the smooth skin, drawing invisible lines up and down her spine, teasing with their promise to explore further, deeper, but not just yet…
I could feel soft hands engaged in exploration of their own, slipping familiarly under the silk of my blouse, making me catch my breath as they glanced over my belly, over my breasts, then down again to rest lightly on the swell of my hips as the kiss deepened with renewed passion. Our bodies pressed together tightly, desperate to connect as deeply as our lips and tongues. I broke the kiss first, to lift her fair hair from her neck and bury my face into the scented hollow beneath her ear, sharp white teeth gently nibbling the tender skin, sending pulses of desire down her body. Her hands grasped my thick, dark hair, first pressing my head even tighter into her neck, then pulling me away, lips parted with desire, to plant another kiss, even deeper than before.
We finally surfaced for air, me standing in the moonlight, hair dishevelled, lipstick smudged, panting hard, dark eyes large, dilated with desire. I could see the beat of her pulse in her throat, the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
Reaching under her top, I pushed it upwards, lifting it over her small breasts, over her head, and letting it fall to the dewy ground. Her nipples hardened inside her bra, her skin instantly covered in goosebumps, both at the touch of the cool night air and in anticipation of the pleasure to come. I lowered my head to her neck again, this time working downwards, trailing kisses and bites over her collar bone, the hollow at the base of her throat, and then further down, down, until my hot mouth was positioned over the thin fabric of her bra, where her nipple strained against the delicate material, begging for attention. She moaned as my mouth responded to her body’s plea, working against the fabric, creating a delicious friction. The sensation peaked and then faded as my kisses trailed their way over to the other breast and repeated the procedure, while she tightened her grip on my shoulders and tipped her head back to the skies, eyes full of starlight. I reached around her back to unhook her bra, sliding the narrow straps over her shoulders, freeing her perfect breasts so I could give those beautiful pink nipples the undivided attention they deserved.
The decadence of our situation, the cool night air on naked skin, the perfume and lipstick, the insistent sucking and gentle biting was intoxicating. We swayed together until she leant backwards, against the tree, the mossy bark rough against her back, contrasting with the soft skin beneath her hands.
That insistent mouth, that sucking, demanding, knowing mouth of mine was still working its magic on her body, sending jolts of pleasure from nipple to groin, while my enquiring fingers were busily working at the button on the waistband of her jeans, pushing at the denim fabric, sliding over smooth hips, suddenly exposed in the moonlight. She moaned and her pelvis seemed to tilt forward of its own accord, pressing her heat against my hand. She shifted her position against the tree, lowering her body, parting her legs slightly, eager for my fingers to find their way. And they did, unerringly, slipping down through the silky hair, now damp with desire, and finding the slippery heat of her, gliding between her labia, skimming past her clitoris, tracing all the right paths, effortlessly, with the sure knowledge only another female could possess.
Her breathing had become fast and shallow, interspersed with involuntary noises of pleasure. Her hands tightened in my hair, her pelvis raising up in its own counter rhythm to the movement of my probing fingers. I continued my fervent devotions with hands and lips until her back arched away from the tree and her cry echoed across the still night air.
She fell back, spent, her pupils dilated, breathing hard. She looked quite beautiful, gloriously abandoned and gilded with moonlight. I took her in my arms and held her tightly.
“I never realised until now,” I murmured into her hair.
“That everyone in the party can see us through the window.”