The Writing on the Wall (closed for Gr8chtr)

Kayla's teasing touch of the bulge in his underwear was almost more than Jeff could bear. He wanted to just go at full speed. But she had said that she liked this middle-speed, and he was dedicated to honoring her request.

My my, look what I found. Any ideas on what we do next?

He returned her smile as he said, "Yes, I do have an idea, but first that requires me to return the favor you gave to me." Hooking his fingers around the waistband of her panties, he slid them down over her hips, allowing them to fall to the floor where she could step out of them.

He kissed her quickly, but passionately, and put his arm around her waist and pulled her down onto her bed, with them lying side-by-side. "What I have in mind", he said as his heartbeat began to accelerate even more, "is for you to wrap your top leg around me so that what you found could slide right into your waiting womanhood."

He wasted no time in removing her panties. Despite the warmth of the evening, the air felt cool as it brushed over her nude body, feeling especially cold on the wet slit between her legs.

With a kiss and an arm around her waist, he pulled her down on the bed with a bounce. She was glad that she had made the bed that morning and he kissed her again before explaining his intent.

What I have in mind, is for you to wrap your top leg around me so that what you found could slide right into your waiting womanhood.

Her leg, the skin soft, wrapped around him as he had instructed and she smiled and kissed him.

"Jeff, I'm in your capable hands." It was exciting to press her bare skin against his bare skin. It had been so long since she had been with a man. Too long. She had started to wonder if there was something wrong with her. Now, she was about to break her dry spell. She almost laughed at the poor choice of words.

Instead, she pulled his head down to hers and kissed him.

She rolled into him so easily that Jeff almost couldn't believe it. He had come to think that she was still a bit anxious, but her response proved otherwise.

He met her kiss with one of his own. Not a particularly ardent kiss, though; he needed to concentrate on something else. Moving carefully and with some help from Kayla he gently slid his engorged cock into her hot, wet slit. He ran his only free hand down to her hip that was on top and grabbed her leg firmly so that she wouldn't roll off as they started their dance.

Now firmly locked in carnal embrace, he began a slow in-and-out rhythm, using his hand to encourage her to move her hips in response. He was now in position to resume their passionate kissing, which he did.

Breaking the kissing briefly, he whispered, "I'm in your service. I'll fuck you as hard or soft as you fuck me."

She gave a sigh as he slid into her. Such a wonderful feeling. Here at least was one man that wanted to fuck her. Maybe there was still hope for her after all. Even with his hand on her thigh, keeping her up against him, was nice.

And with that, they began. Moving in sync with each other, she had not forgotten how. Kisses occupied busy mouths, until he took the time to say, I'm in your service. I'll fuck you as hard or soft as you fuck me.

She kissed him before answering. "Jeff, I'm not made of glass. The lady of the house says just do it. I've danced before and I know how to follow. Just go for it." And with that she went back to kissing him and enjoying herself.

Jeff, I'm not made of glass. The lady of the house says just do it. I've danced before and I know how to follow. Just go for it.

Kayla's statement turned the traffic light from yellow to green. Jeff was now free to do as he wished. His first thought was to continue their slow rhythm for a few more cycles then gradually start to speed up, but her hips moving in perfect rhythm with his were too stimulating. On only his second thrust after she spoke, he pushed in at nearly twice the speed as their previous rhythm, causing both of them to let out an audible moan.

Though continuing to lie side-by-side, within moments their bodies were lunging at each other at what seemed to Jeff like breakneck speed. He tried unsuccessfully to keep his voice down, but it was no use; his savage grunts filled the air.

Between short breaths he nearly shouted, "Yes, Kayla! yes! yes! Oh, yes! Fuck me until we both explode!

Suddenly Jeff seemed less constrained, making the whole experience more enjoyable. From the sounds that they both made, this was clearly just what they needed. Though what had at first started out as something leisurely, now their movements became more frantic as they drove each other towards a goal. A goal of fuck till you cum? Definitely

His thrusting seemed to be hitting all the right places and she vocalize it by joining him in a chorus of grunts and groans as Jeff began pumping harder and faster and meeting him thrust for thrust. She had never gone this far on her side. She had started out on her side before but always it ended up standard missionary when her partner was ready hammer his way home.

But Jeff's hand on her hip helped to pull her into him, and she was glad that she had left things in his hands. Soon, with the noises that they were making, Kayla was glad that she lived in a house rather than an apartment.

Yes, Kayla! yes! yes! Oh, yes! Fuck me until we both explode!

Her body seemed inclined to obey. She could feel an orgasm building, her heart starting to race as Jeff pushed her towards that rush. The least little thing would probably send her over the edge.

Jeff had seldom been with a lover who was as wonderfully responsive as Kayla. She matched his rhythm and his intensity perfectly.

Jeff was more than ready to cum. He could feel all of the muscles in her body tighten, waiting for explosive release. Amid their fucking, he managed to free up his hand that laid underneath her while keeping his other hand clasped strongly to her hip so that they would could remain in the side-by-side position. Winding himself up like a spring, he used his free hand to grab her breast and squeeze in hard as he made a might thrust into her, and yelled:

"Now!!!"

He was building up fast, and she kept up with him though it surprised her that she did. With grunts and groans, they seemed to be beyond words, or so she thought but Jeff had different ideas. As one hand kept a firm grip on her hip, slamming his cock into her, somehow he brought the other hand up and began squeezing her breast, his hand hot on her skin.

As he yelled, she felt him grip her hip and plow deep into her, shooting wave after wave of cum. The combination of everything triggered her to cum too, her sex gripping him to milk him for all he was worth as she groaned. She was practically shaking from her climax, her leg wrapped around him.

Finally she collapsed against Jeff's nude body, panting. There was a sheen on both of their bodies as she melted into his arms.

"My God, Jeff! That was incredible! Thank you!" She kissed him. "Will you spend the night?"

Jeff had just experienced some of the best sex that he had ever had. She was absolutely right; it was incredible! As his brain and body began to calm down after its meteoric rise, he began to think about what to say or do next. When he first began to court Kayla he was attracted to her physically, but also personally. He had come to know her some and found her to be interesting. When she accepted his dinner invitation he had no preconceived notion of where the rest of the evening was going, and he had no intention of pulling a one-night stand. What she had in mind had never been very clear to him. Maybe she wanted a one-off.

Will you spend the night?

Kayla's question answered his questions, at least in part. He responded in kind. Kissing her back he said softly, "Yes, Kayla, that would be my pleasure. Unfortunately, I have a fairly early morning business appointment. So, I can't offer to spend a lazy Sunday morning in a cozy cafe. But...maybe we could do that next weekend or some other time soon."

She welcomed his kiss, still linked as they were and the air cooling the perspiration from their bodies. She felt him finally slide out of her, his heart beating in her ear as she rested against him.

Yes, Kayla, that would be my pleasure. Unfortunately, I have a fairly early morning business appointment. So, I can't offer to spend a lazy Sunday morning in a cozy cafe. But...maybe we could do that next weekend or some other time soon.

"That's okay. We'll just enjoy what we can. What time do you want the alarm clock set? I can always see you off before I go back to bed. And we can always have the leisurely Sunday morning some other weekend."

She set the alarm and turned back over to snuggle up against him, resting her head in his chest. It was nice fall asleep with a man. It had been too long since she had slept with someone. A great lover and so good looking.

"We can just play this by ear, Jeff." His arm around her as they settled down to sleep was comforting. Soon she drifted off to dreamland.

Jeff awoke early as the sun drifted across Kayla's bedroom. She was snuggled close up to him, and sleeping soundly. Although she had offered to see him off, he didn't want to disturb her sleep. Carefully, he got out of bed, used the bathroom and dressed. Finding a piece of paper, he wrote her a sweet love note and left it in the bathroom where she would surely see it first thing.

Moving quietly, he kissed Kayla lightly on her cheek and whispered in her ear, "I very much want an encore, and not in the very distant future." Filled with warm afterglow Jeff quietly left, committing himself to calling her in an hour or so if she didn't call him first.

****

When Bradford awoke Aimee was already up and dressed. Not surprising; this was their pattern. He dressed hurriedly, chatting amiably with her as he did. They kissed perfunctorily, as they had so many "morning after" times before. With a "good seeing you again" from her and similar sentiments from him, she was gone.

Bradford had planned on doing serious work today, but his tryst with Aimee had put him in a mellow mood. He decided to just chill for the rest of the day and let his mind relax and his creative juices flow. A couple of years ago he had found a place outside of his neighborhood that he liked to go for Sunday brunch. The Halcyon Coffee Bar, on Greenville Ave. just below the "M-Streets" neighborhood, featured great coffee, drinks, and more. Moreover, it was just a very relaxed atmosphere, and outside of his normal orbit. Indeed, in the half-dozen times that he had been there, he had never seen anyone that he knew. He liked that; a nearby "get-away" spot.

As he strolled in the front door and picked out a seat, Bradford knew that he had made the right choice. Nothing could spoil his get-away Sunday. Nothing!

When Kayla awoke, she was alone in the house. Finding Jeff's note in the bathroom made her smile. A true Southern gentleman. She had thought them a dying breed but apparently not. She took a quick shower and wrapped her kimono robe around her as she padded around the house cleaning up from the night before. She checked the fridge. It would really be a good idea to go to the grocery store some time today. She made a quick list, stopping only long enough to take a call from Jeff. His words were sweet and by the time that they hung up, he had her smiling.

It was a beautiful Sunday and she thought that a walk would do her good. And easily within walking distance was a great place for Sunday brunch.

She slipped on her undies and picked out a faded tee that had seen better days and a pair of jeans. Lower Greenville saw all types of people, and the Halcyon was a favorite place for a lot of the locals to eat. Grabbing her keys and wallet, she set off down the street.

The walk was relatively uneventful, with neighbors and the odd dog roaming the streets on such a fine Sunday morn. At least a block away, she could smell the food from the place and by the time she got to its door at the corner of Greenville and Goodwin, she had worked up an appetite. Just inside the door, at one of the first tables sat Bruce, with his guide dog Sweetie laying at his feet. The golden retriever looked up at her and thumped her tail thrice on the floor.

"That you, Kay?" The blind man called out, holding out his hand. Kayla took the dark weathered hand and bent down to kiss the old man's cheek.

"Now, how did you know it was me, Bruce? You must be peeking."

The blind man laughed. "Sweetie told me. Three thumps - it's Kay."

"Well, Sweetie is pretty smart, isn't she. You have something good to eat?"

"Steak and eggs. Can you believe it? Someone ordered it and left in a huff before they could even be served. They were just gonna throw it away."

"Well you enjoy." She grinned and took a seat not too far away, not really checking out the rest of the customers.

She had a deal with the owners. Anytime that Bruce stopped in, he could have whatever he wanted to eat. Kayla had promised to always cover his tab. About once a week or so, she would drop in and eat brunch and pay the running tab.

She ordered the Maverick Migas breakfast tacos and orange juice and sat back with a sigh, slowly glancing around the room. Her eyes almost skipped over him, but once she saw him, she suddenly lost her appetite. Glaring at her from across the room was the hateful eyes of Bradford.

What a way to ruin a day! Why could she not get away from the man?

Bradford took his seat at a small table in the corner, a perfect choice for a perfect day. He started off by ordering his favorite item on the Halcyon menu - The Old Texas benedict. He loved eggs benedict, but he also loved the name of the dish, perfect for someone from an "old Texas" family. He topped off his order with one of the Halcyon's signature flavored mimosas. He made a pledge to himself to have at least one more over the course of his meal.

Sipping his mimosa while awaiting his food to arrive, he took out the copy of the Dallas Morning News that he had brought with him and began to read leisurely. By eating slowly and having a second mimosa after he was finished he could, Bradford reasoned, stretch this delightful morning out to an hour and a half, possibly even two, although that would be a stretch.

Setting his paper aside as the food arrived, he glanced around the room. He saw a woman from behind, who looked somehow familiar, kindly speaking with the blind man. It was a heart-warming scene, he thought. And, the view wasn't that bad either. From what he could see from this angle, this apparently young woman had a rather nice body. Bradford felt a little lust, in fact.

Turning to take the first bite of his eggs benedict he noticed out of the corner of his eye that the woman was taking a seat at a table across the room. He decided to bide his time and not appear to be looking, but to steal a glance in her direction to get a better view.

The view that Bradford got nearly caused him to choke on the coffee that he had just sipped. Fuck! There sat Kayla Bennitt, his nemesis, and his hate object. His beautiful day was ruined now, and it was all her fault. He wanted to look away, but somehow he couldn't. Too late. She turned and saw him glaring at her. Their gazes locked on each other.

Anger and determination sat in. He was not going to be cheated out of his day by her, and he was not going to lose any subtle or overt confrontation that might occur. He continued to glare, hoping that his facial expression communicated the hostility he was feeling.

Let her make the first move, or just turn away and give up!

Kayla wanted to spit nails at the man, and she could tell that if he had his way, and there were not others around, he would have cheerfully strangled her.

Her mamma had once told her that she sometimes had a diabolical streak in her. She knew that her just being here probably made the bile rise in his throat.

The girl delivered her breakfast to her table. And the way she was sitting, she would have to turn around just to see him. However, the way he was seated, just a glance up and she was right there in front of his eyes. If fact, if he wanted to avoid seeing her, he would have to get up and change to the other chair at his table.

Before taking her first bite of the tacos, she very pointedly turned around. She saw him glance up, as if expecting something from her. A glare? A sign? She would give him what he least expected or wanted from her.

With one of her most fake smiles, she grinned very big and waved at him as if she were Queen Elizabeth herself. That little backward wave of the hand let him know that she considered him a peasant - a peons.

She turned her back to him and began eating her brunch. She knew that all he would see of her would be the back of her head. She would ignore him. He was not going to ruin her day!

Bradford had been out-maneuvered by Kayla and he knew it. It just made him hate her all the more. It was clear that she could see the hostility in his eyes, as he could see in hers. Her dismissive smile and little wave was a more hostile gesture, given their history and circumstance, then than giving him the finger. Further, she was both literally and symbolically turning her back to him.

What to do? First, although he could certainly not relax and have the beautiful day that he planned, he could respond somewhat in kind by not losing his temper or composure in public. So, he continued to eat his eggs benedict and read the Morning News in what would appear to the outsider, and to Kayla if she ever happened turn around, that he was enjoying a leisurely repast.

Finishing his brunch and paying the bill expeditiously enough that she was still there, he walked casually up to stand in front of her table. Trying as hard as he could to put on the same fake smile as she had and taking one of his business cards from his wallet, he said, "Good morning, Ms. Bennitt. I hope that your morning has turned out to be everything that you had hoped for on this beautiful Sunday. I know that mine has. Here's my card with my studio address. If you would like to stop by sometime and have the conversation that we weren't able to have this morning, I'd welcome that opportunity. Any time you'd like, just stop in. I have no assistants at this time, so I'm always there just by myself, most often from 10:00 or so in the morning until 8:00 or so in the evening."

With a faked cheery "Good day", Bradford strode out of the Halcyon and disappeared onto Greenville Ave.

Though she couldn't see him, she could feel him behind her, like a cancerous growth sitting in his chair. Every little rustle or cough seemed louder than it really was.

When he suddenly appeared at her table, she was surprised. She looked up at him as he spoke.

Good morning, Ms. Bennitt. I hope that your morning has turned out to be everything that you had hoped for on this beautiful Sunday. I know that mine has. Here's my card with my studio address. If you would like to stop by sometime and have the conversation that we weren't able to have this morning, I'd welcome that opportunity. Any time you'd like, just stop in. I have no assistants at this time, so I'm always there just by myself, most often from 10:00 or so in the morning until 8:00 or so in the evening. Good day

She watched as he headed out the door. The day suddenly seemed sunny again. In her hand was the business card with his address. Perhaps it was time for the two of them to have it out. Otherwise, this thing was just gonna fester.

She paid for her meal and the tab that Bruce had run up. As she approached Bruce, Sweetie thumped her tail three times.

"Kay, you heading out."

"Yes, Bruce. You and Sweetie have a good Sunday." She kissed his cheek and headed out the door. The whole way back home the card was in her hand so that by the time she walked in the door, the business card was thoroughly bent and crumpled. Grabbing her purse, she headed out the door and got in the car. She glanced at the card in her hand and, with her mouth set in a determined line, she headed off to let Asshole Bradford know just what she thought of him though she was sure from the glare that he had given her in Halcyon that he had no question as to what she thought about him.

With clenched jaws, she was soon ringing the doorbell to his studio. She was neither scared of the man, nor did she intend to back down from a confrontation with him.

He must have been waiting for her as there was not that long of a wait for the door to open.

Bradford's studio was on the second floor of a quaint old building not far from the city's Arts District. One reached it via a door on the street that led straight to a set of stairs to his studio. Very private. Although it was no more than a mile or so from his own apartment, the studio included an oversize couch big enough for him to sleep on on those occasions when he was inspired to work into the late hours.

When he had thought about his beautiful, relaxed day Bradford had not planned to go to his studio at all. But on the off-chance that Kayla might take up his challenge immediately he went there directly from the Halcyon. He didn't have to wait long before he heard a loud and determined knock on his front door.

He opened the door saying little and motioned Kayla to follow him up the stairs, letting the front door close and lock on its own. Once they were both upstairs in his studio he turned to face Kayla, standing no more than four feet away. He delivered the opening lines that he had rehearsed in his head since leaving the restaurant.

"So, Kayla, the community of leading artists in Dallas isn't very big as you know. I know the vile things that you have been saying to H.H., Pam, Larry and others. I wanted to give you the opportunity to say those things to my face. Unless, of course, you are just the back-biting bimbo that I suspect you are."

She didn't really look at her surroundings when Bradford let her in his studio. But her disgust for him was fairly palatable as she followed him up the stairs.

Once upstairs, the familiar smells of paints filled her nostrils and fueled her ire. How like the man to try to pass himself off as a painter.

So, Kayla, the community of leading artists in Dallas isn't very big as you know. I know the vile things that you have been saying to H.H., Pam, Larry and others. I wanted to give you the opportunity to say those things to my face. Unless, of course, you are just the back-biting bimbo that I suspect you are.

She started laughing and as she spoke, she stepped closer to him until she was finally almost nose to nose with Bradford. "Bimbo? Really? Why not save that term for the type of women that you seem to dredge up. Anything that I said to to others about you, I would enthusiastically say to your face. You are an asshole, someone who has no artistic talent, someone who depends upon your name to get yourself ahead in the world. Just look at some of the feculence that you produce. People ooooh and aaaah over it because of your name, and then make fun of it behind your back. At least I tell you to your face. So, are you man enough to take it or are you some scared little boy that expects the world to bow down to you because your name is St. James? Why don't you get off your ass and actually create something worthwhile, or quit. As someone so aptly put it, shit or get off the pot!"

She was toe to toe with him, refusing to back down.

"Now, is that clear enough for you or do you need me to repeat it in smaller, simplistic words?"

Bradford was never a "manly" man. His sport in prep school was tennis, a non-contact, somewhat gentile game. He had never been in a physical fight or a wrestling match. But he had friends that were very much into football, soccer, wrestling, and ice hockey, testosterone-fueled, aggressive male pastimes. Some of those friends had confided to him that sometimes in the heat of those contests they became aroused, even occasionally having full erections. He was dimly aware that something like that was happening to him now, but his mind was so full of hostility that other emotions took over.

When Kayla finished her speech and positioning herself toe-to-toe to him, he echoed her mocking laughter. "Well, well", he said as he nearly spat in her face, "I give you credit. At least you're honest enough to repeat your ridiculous assertions directly to my face. But, you know, I'm looking right, close-up at those baby blue eyes of yours and I'm shocked. You are so full of shit that I'm surprised your eyes aren't brown."

Then, Bradford did something impulsive that he could have never imagined. Curling the ring finger and middle finger of his right hand at the first knuckle and spreading them like a pair of pliers, he grabbed Kayla's nose and squeezed it tightly, refusing to let go.

Well, well. I give you credit. At least you're honest enough to repeat your ridiculous assertions directly to my face. But, you know, I'm looking right, close-up at those baby blue eyes of yours and I'm shocked. You are so full of shit that I'm surprised your eyes aren't brown.

His next action caught her totally off guard. He began pinching her nose between his fingers. It hurt! She couldn't stop the yell that issued from her lips as she tried to pull back but couldn't.

She had never hit anyone in her life. She had never really ever been in a fight. But she had alway been taught to stick up for herself and Bradford had just done the wrong thing.

The slap was extraordinarily loud in the studio as she hit him hard. Already, her handprint was showing in his cheek as he looked as her shocked. In the heat of the moment, she began to fight back, bunching her hands into fists and beating them against his chest. She no longer saw him but instead focused on her fists beating a tattoo in an attempt...

She was breathing hard and she was aware that it wasn't from the exertion. Something else was churning deep inside of her. She glanced up into his eyes and noted the fact that his blue eyes narrowed as her fists continued their punch against him.

The slap hurt. A lot. Causing him to spit out "Fuck you!" as his head swung to one side from her slap. But, her slap didn't entirely surprise him. It was, in fact, predictable given his demeaning comment to her and their mutual hostility toward each other.

But, her fists pounding on his chest was entirely unexpected. Her slap had caused him to back up nearly a foot, Kayla kept right on coming. Her pounding fists were not as intensely painful as her slap but they were unrelenting. It just fueled both his anger and his arousal.

Hoping to stop the beating she was giving him Bradford grabbed both of her wrists with his hands. His intention was to deflect her blows. But, he was unschooled in any kind of fighting, and his move had almost the reverse effect. With exquisite bad timing on both of their parts, they both pulled their arms violently toward themselves, causing them to crash into each other with full head-to-toe body contact. Their mutual groans filled the studio and instantly reminded him of his night with Aimee.

Now panting along with her both from exertion and something else, all Bradford could say as they were each struggling to either break free or overwhelm their opponent was to repeat over and over, "Fuck you, Kayla. Fuck you!"

He grabbed her wrist, trying to stop her. Or was it trying to show dominance over her. Either way, it made her mad and the pain from their bodies crashing together made her groan.

But all it did to her was make her madder as she tried to break free from him.

Fuck you, Kayla. Fuck you!

"Fuck you, Bradford. You pathetic excuse for a man. That woman that you were with last night probably went home disappointed. Go fuck yourself!" She was yelling at him, trying to get loose, panting heavy.

Bradford was determined to not let Kayla get loose so that she could slap or pound him again. The two of them struggled, bumping into each other repeatedly.

That woman that you were with last night probably went home disappointed.

He knew that the insult to his manhood was juvenile, but he had no reservation about sinking that that level or lower even, if it meant besting Kayla in some way.

His mouth now close to her ear he yelled, "Fucking myself would no doubt be a whole lot better than fucking you. I bet you just lay there not making a single move. Or, maybe you are so frigid, you've never fucked anybody."

With his hands holding her wrist, she couldn't hit him. She was frustrated as he kept her close to him, his body rubbing and bumping against hers.

He yelled at her. Fucking myself would no doubt be a whole lot better than fucking you. I bet you just lay there not making a single move. Or, maybe you are so frigid, you've never fucked anybody.

His words irritated her. "I had no complaints from my partner last night. And when he left this morning he was very happy. And, I might add, I had a wonderful evening, which is more than I would ever get from you!"

She continued to struggle against him though she noticed that her nipples were aching. It must be from the fabric rubbing against it.

Their struggle continued unabated and Bradford's arousal along with it. Yelling at each other about their prowess as a sex partner was remarkably erotic for him.

...which is more than I would ever get from you!"

Her comment somehow put him over the top. He lost all control with no thought to the short- or long-term consequences. With a voice that was now more of a harsh growl than speech he said "Oh, yeah. Watch this!"

Letting go of Kayla's left wrist, Bradford roughly wrapped his right arm around her neck and shoulders, slammed his mouth onto hers, and thrust his tongue against her closed mouth as though it were a battering ram.