Waiting--and Waiting

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It took almost an hour for him to get here. I paced around the apartment, muttering, "What if he doesn't come, what if he was just saying..."

"For god's sake, sit down and stop pacing," Gina told me, "It's not like you're having sex with him for the first time." She went into my bedroom and returned with a lacy white blouse, "Here put this on, you look angelic in it. Now brush your teeth and powder your nose, by the time you finish, he'll be here."

I'd just finished primping when there was a knock at the door. "Oh shit," I said, grimacing at Gina then went to the door and answered it.

He stood there grinning, holding a huge bouquet—pink carnations and yellow daisies. "Thank you," I breathed, "These are my favorite colors," and he took me in his arms and kissed me, then for good measure gave me a peck on the nose.

"That's for neglecting you when I didn't mean to," he kissed me again. Oh, you're good, I thought, for the flowers had been just the right touch.

"I'm Gina Virelli," Gina stood and held out her hand. Holding me with one he took his free hand and shook hers.

"Nice to meet you." He guided me over to the couch and sat down, me on one side and Gina on the other. He looked from Gina to me, "Hey, two pretty girls, and I'm in the middle, I think I like this." He reached into his pocket, "Think you ladies would be up for a little coke?" He pulled a bag of white powder out of his pocket, and I gasped at the size of it.

It's not that I've never had it. It's at just about every party in California and it's unusual not to get invited to have some, especially if you're female. It's just that the amount that he has scares me a little. I've never seen so much cocaine in my life.

Gina looks surprised too, and takes the initiative and answers, "Well, it's not that we haven't had it before, but we're pretty much lightweights. I'm up for some and I'm sure she's up for it too, but I bet there's no way we can keep up with you."

Good answer, Ginny, I thought.

Rick looks at me, saying, "Sweetheart do you have a mirror I can chop this on and lay out a few lines."

"Uh, sure," I answer, and go into the bathroom and bring out my hand mirror. I'm doing this even though I don't know if I should. I wonder for the first time how deeply he's into drugs, and if his girlfriend's into them too. For me, I don't want a habit and I don't want an addiction. No way will I follow him into one.

I hand the mirror to him, and he sets it on the coffee table. He pours out an amount of coke and begins to chop it with a credit card, then divides it into lines for the three of us. Please don't give me too much, I think, and then I hear Gina say, "Hey, less than that, please." He takes the excess from what he was going to give to us and puts it in his share.

I look at the amount of coke he's having and I wonder what I've gotten myself into?

He hands me the mirror and a small plastic straw, and then gives it to Gina. Then it's his turn, I'm a little surprised at how much he's taking. I put a smile on my face, though, and pretend that everything is okay, even though it's not.

He finishes and wipes his hand beneath his nose. "You ladies up for going out?"

Gina saves me, "It's been a long day, I think I'll go home and clean my house, then crash." We laugh at this, then Gina announces she really is going home and leaving "you lovebirds" alone.

"Nice to meet you," he says as she goes out the door, then tells me, "Alone at last," and pulls me onto his lap and wraps his arms around me. We begin to kiss and I find myself being lifted up and carried into my bedroom. He pulls off my clothes and dumps them on the floor, then adds his to the pile.

"Ever make love on coke?" he asks between kisses.

"I can't remember if I have or not," sounds kind of lame but it's true.

He smiles, oh how I love his smile, he has the loveliest lips. His mouth is too pretty for a man's. The first time I saw him I wondered what it would be like to have that mouth kiss me.

I love making love to him. We're both uninhibited, and we don't hold back. He gets playful, biting my breasts and my stomach then gets a little too rough with me. I don't mind, I wrap my legs tightly around him and move with him. And it seems to go on and on.

Around five he looks at my clock and says, "I've got to get home. Can I take a shower?"

I sigh, I don't want him to leave but I hurt in every muscle in my body. "I've got some unscented soap under the sink, you better use that. I keep it around for the days when my allergies are bad."

He kisses me again and I watch his lean body walk into my bathroom. He's six feet tall and he's too thin for his height but he's got a cute ass and he looks good. I'd get up and help but I'm worn out and I don't know if he wants me with him anyway.

I hear the water run, then stop. He's using my hairdryer, so I bet he's going home to his girlfriend. He emerges from the bathroom looking a hell of a lot better than I must and sits next to me on the bed.

He lays a hand on my cheek stroking it with his thumb. "You should come by the studio sometime after you get off work. Just check to see if my car's there."

"I'll see, sometimes after work I'm tired but sometimes the last thing I feel like doing is going home. I like the studio, especially the beach. Too bad I can't sunbathe in the middle of the night."

He laughed, held me close, and kissed me. "If I don't see you at the studio, you'll be hearing from me." Then I heard the door open and close, and he was gone.

What am I doing? On the one hand, one of the best-looking and nicest guys I've ever met might be falling in love with me. On the other hand, he carried around a large bag of coke and helped himself liberally to it. I remember that I saw him consume a large quantity of alcohol at the party, more than he should have.

I wasn't going to judge him, but I was worried. I'm so smitten with this guy. He's the best sex I've ever had. He's funny, he makes me laugh. I love the way it feels when his arms are around me. There is something happening between us, I can feel it and I don't want to walk away from him.

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