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Early September in Georgia is warm, the kind of warm that leaves the air lingering on a person’s lips. He couldn’t see her lips, just her eyes. One hand on his hat, a grey Stetson that had seen better days and, perhaps, wasn’t much fonder of the humidity than he was. He paused, his entire attention lost in her eyes. Dark brown, lined in a soft black that seemed powdery, impermanent though moonlight had been brushed on just above them. Blue silk framed her eyes, hid her hair, but his breath and maybe a little of his soul were already lost to her.
He licked lips which were still a bit dry from spending the summer laying in the fall crop on his family’s farm. He smiled at her as he managed to get his hat from his head and the door open. “Ma’am.”
Those eyes smiled back at him and his stomach flipped a couple times as she passed by him, the blue silk of her abaya swirling with her stride. The air-conditioned air chilled his arms as he hurried after her, hat back on his head, cowboy boots hitting the smooth floor with more sound than he would have liked.
The sway to her hips, under that swirling fabric, gave a whole new meaning to start of the school year. As soon as he caught up to her, shoulders hunched a little, hat shading his blue eyes, he smiled a bit self-consciously, and asked, “So, I’m Marc Ravenpaw, on account of my grandfather was Native American. Might I ask your name, please?”
“My name is Badr Isa. I am from Saudi Arabia.” Her eyes narrowed just a little, watching him as if he were his own kind of new and unusual. “The way you speak English is unusual.”
“Wull,” he said, spinning around hat off again and pressed over his heart. “Yes, ma’am. I’m from Texas USA, you see. You sound like a princess. Are you a real live princess?”
The hall they were in split there, one side heading down towards the language arts classrooms and the other towards the food court and the library. The way she stood, hips cocked just lightly to the side, the blue silk flowing over her form gave him a new understanding of art, form, lines, and how something so subtle as a silk draped curve could promise eternity of paradise.
“Would you like to buy me a coffee, Mr. Ravenpaw?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, voice trembling with a kind of eagerness he couldn’t have controlled, even if he’d wanted to. “I’d love to buy your coffee, Ms. Isa.”
He pressed his hat back on, held out his arm for her. Without pausing, she slipped her hand under his arm and laid a perfect hand with long red very western nails on his arm. “Please, call me Badr. I will call you Marc, if you like.”
“Oh yes, ma’am, Badr. I’d like that. What’cha majorin in?”
“Theoretical mathematics with an emphasis on quantum relationships. You?” She asked politely, pointing to a table near the window, with a lovely view of the southern rose garden.
He held out her chair. “I’m doin astronautical engineerin. I just love planes.”
“Not rockets? You don’t dream of working for Space X?”
“No, ma’am,” he said, hands in the back pockets of his jeans as he rocked back onto his heels. “I just like atmospheric craft best. Just simple stuff for a simple man. What kinda coffee can I get for you?”
From under the niqab she wore a black leather bag appeared as she set it down. “Triple espresso, caramel macchiato, yes to whipped cream, with a piece of fruit on the side.”
Fingers on the brim of his hat, he tipped his head. “Be right back, Badr.”
He couldn’t hear her laughing, but how one set of eyes could be that expressive, he was sure he’d never experienced the like before. He’d had his coffee in his apartment along with the rest of his breakfast, as usual, so the fifteen people in line ahead of him were a bit of a surprise. The six dollar price tag for a coffee and a banana made him appreciate his coffee maker too. Before he left the counter though, he got himself what he was told was an americano which was also cost more than he would have expected, but it was the cost in time that really bothered him. Most of the folk at the college were engineering or science students. One would think they could froth milk on their own.
Nearly back to the table, he slowed, looking around, as his princess seemed to have disappeared, until she turned to look at him with those soulful and kindred eyes. Then... he almost dropped the coffee. The last blue scarf was just dropping into the black leather bag.
There she sat with hair long enough to touch the seat of the chair. The mahogany hair contrasted with silver earrings of swirls and light catching silver tear drops. A cream colored peasant shirt hung low enough to lay over the soft golden curves of the most beautiful breasts Marc thought he’d ever imagined. A skirt of the same blue silk as what he guessed was her coat fanned out over smooth golden legs, and when he sat back down, his mouth was dry and his pants too tight. “I guess you took off your coat,” he said, setting her coffee down.
Lips so soft and red, and all he could think about was the apple in Eden, because if that apple had been like those lips, he’d have lost Paradise for it too. “I promised my jeddah that I would wear the veil to school. I didn’t say I would wear it all day, just to school. I always keep my promises. Do you like my lips better than you like my breasts?”
“No,” he held his coffee with both hands, blue eyes wide, “Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. My goodness, you have lovely breasts and lovely lips and I’m pretty sure I was in love with you just from lookin at your eyes. They’re also lovely, by the way and I sure do like your legs. And you also got great looking hands and I think my brain is gonna overheat.”
Her shoe clicked against the tiles as she pulled her foot free. A moment later her foot pressed against his zipper, rubbing back and forth, while not a trace of shame showed on her pretty face. She winked. He blushed. “I don’t think it’s a problem with your brain. I think the blood has just been diverted.”
He took a drink of his coffee, his other hand pulling his hat down and a little forward. “Well, that might be the case there.”
“Are you ashamed of sexual desire,” she asked, making small circles with the ball of her foot.
He took his hat off, almost wanting to set it in his lap, over her foot, but that was wholly unpractical, so he set it down on the table and had another drink of coffee. “Not in the least. I been to a few rodeos, if you know what I mean?”
She touched the tip of her tongue to the edge of the color on her lip, tracing it along slowly for a moment, as if considering. “I don’t actually know what a rodeo is, but perhaps you’ll show me.”
It was the longest sip of coffee he had ever had. Theoretical mathematics was clearly a world he should have given more time to. Try as he might, he just couldn’t really find a polite way of asking the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, if she just wanted to do things he didn’t really have words for that would be at all proper for well someone as her, as she was. “I was using rodeo as a metaphor,” he admitted.
She licked a bit of remaining cream from one lovely red lip. “I expected as much. Would you like to have dinner with me? You can tell me more about American rodeos.”
Marc’s heart paused for a moment, while he tried to decide if he were dreaming or if he’d just been asked out to dinner by the move beautiful and intelligent woman he’d ever met. “I’d be happy to have dinner with you,” he said, one hand on his coffee, the long strong fingers of his other hand running slowly back and forth over the hard edge of his brim where it sat on the table. “Want to meet at say,” he paused, thinking about his new class schedule and how long it was going to take him to clean out his truck. “Say six?”
“I will pick you up at 5:30, in front of the Hamilton Library,” she smiled, and he could just see the thoughts deriving outcomes. “Dress nicely, no tux, just nicely. Can you do that for me,” she asked voice softening to something that hit like the cross between a kitten wanting to be petted and Excalibur asking to be pulled.
“Yes, ma’am,” he grinned, hat going back on his head, “I believe I could do that for you.”
Her banana went into her bag as she stood up and he fell back into those dark eyes. “I’ll see you then!”
He leaned back in his chair, a hand holding his hat on his head as he watched that perfect ass sway under that lovely blue silk. He was pretty sure blue silk was going to be some kind of Pavlov conditioning trigger from now on.
His friend Aaron came up behind him and pushed his hat forward. “Hey, country boy, better not look at that ass. It’s not good for you to think about what you can’t have!”
“Asshole,” Marc snapped at his buddy playfully. “You lookin at the gentleman whose taking Ms. Badr to dinner tonight.”
“That ain’t coming out good if she thinks you’re a gentleman,” Aaron teased, hands in his pockets. “They say she’s like... a Saudi princess.”
“She is a theoretical mathematician,” Marc said proudly. “I don’t care if she’s princess of the moon, I’d so follow her home.”
Aaron snorted, shifted his backpack, as smirk on his face. “Well, you let me know how that works out. A Texas cowboy and a princess. Yeah. I believe you are familiar with the concept of turbulence my boy?”
“Yeah, yeah,” he said dismissively, but the day was indeed filled with turbulence for him. It was so hard to pay attention to anything and he was sketching the curves of blue silk and fluffy white hiding some other curves, and red lips, and to be honest, he’d never been an artist, but maybe he could start to see the appeal.
When he was supposed to be in lab, he was at the mall getting a nice pair of black slacks, matching shoes, and a Guess tee-shirt with a black crow across the front of it. He got a haircut, thought about a tie, got a professional shave, bought two dozen roses, because he couldn’t decide on red or on mixed and about drove himself loco.
It was the longest day of his life.
He felt half naked without a hat, but that worry was gone when a black Aston Martin Vanquish pulled up. The windows were smokey, but he knew it was her. He ran down the stairs and leaned, smiling at her. Every bit as beautiful as he remembered, she wore a dark blue suit, her hair pulled back into a ponytail, simple and yet for a moment all he could think of was pressing kisses to her neck.
“Are you going to get in,” she asked, playful.
“Oh yes ma’am,” he said, turning it into a metaphor, “If I get the opportunity.”
“So,” she said, roaring the engine as soon as he closed the door. “Would you like to eat in? I had thought I might take you to a place I know of with dancing and a decent al kabsa, but perhaps, you’d rather eat in?”
Marc ran a hand over his now very short blond hair and reached out cautiously to brush a bit of dark hair back from her face. “I just want us to be clear, you know I want to have sex with you, right?”
“And I with you,” she said, pulling them out of the campus, the powerful engine roaring. “I don’t think I was unclear about that. Do you have any STDs that I should know about?”
“Good Lord and gravy,” Marc said, blushing all the way back to his hair roots. “Nope. I ain’t no virgin neither.”
“I’m not a virgin,” she said, driving with a confident aggression that let him wonder if she was also a street racer. “I also do not have any STDs. I have not had many partners and I am pretty particular.”
“Well, what’cha doin with me?”
“I very much enjoyed your paper on high altitude turbulence caused by temperature fluctuations and you’ve you’ve got a cute smile and a great ass.”
His hand went to his hat, that wasn’t there and he had an intense desire to set it in his lap and cover up the lump under his zipper. “So... on my paper, did you think I was right?”
“No.” She reached over to set a hand on his thigh, “However, I think there are interesting implications and I love the way your thoughts work. I think we could work on some ideas, together.”
“I’d sure love to hear your take on it, Ms. Badr,” he said, chin to his chest, watching her hand move up towards the bulge under his zipper. “I gotta tell you that I got very little restraint left and I must say that you are the most beautiful and brilliant and I just really want to kiss you.”
A darkness fell over them as they glided into a parking garage. The heel of her hand rubbed against him and his mind went white and full of classical music that hadn’t ever heard. “In a moment. Just wait till we’re in the elevator.”
His hips pressed up into her hand. “Oh, but I like cars.”
Only then did he realize they were stopped. Her door was opened from the outside and a white gloved hand reached out to offer her a hand out. She accepted the hand stepping out, making him think of some sleek jaguar with her moments and he so wanted to be caught he did. He really did.
“Thank you, Boston. Has my delivery arrived?”
“Yes, madam,” the other man said in an aged and slightly Irish voice. “Will madam require any further vehicles this evening?”
“Have a car on hand, with a driver, at my guest’s disposal.”
“Yes, madam,” the man said, bowing politely, before taking the driver’s seat to park her car.
As the elevator doors closed behind them, Marc reached out to touch that silky dark hair. Her skin was warm and he leaned closer, drinking in the scent of her skin, hair. Turning, she pressed her lips to his. He leaned into the kiss, one arm going around the small of her back, lifting her closer. She wrapped a leg around his waist, her arms around his shoulders. Everything about the kiss was more than he’d hoped for. Sweet, warm lips, an eager tongue welcoming him and he pressed into her, pushing deep, dancing around her tongue. They ran into the elevator wall, both her legs around his waist by then.
The doors opened, filling the space with the most delicious and exotic scents, things he had no names at all for. He carried her, walking backwards as she tugged on his shirt to get him to in the direction she wanted. Her kisses left trails of pleasure up his neck and when she gently bit his ear, he groaned. “Oh god,” he grunted as the back of his knees hit her bed, tipping him over backwards with her riding him down until she straddled his waist.
“No, see that’s bull riding, or is this mustang taming,” she asked, lips wet with his kiss as she undid her suit jacket and hurriedly unbuttoned her shirt.
“Definately bull riding,” he said, breathless, hard cock pressing up against her wet panties, a warm sweet honey wetness that soaked through his slacks. “But it ain’t gotta go that fast.” His fingers, bigger, but stronger and able worked on undoing her buttons until he pushed her shirt gently open so he could cup his big hands over her perfect lace covered breasts. “My god, you’re so beautiful. You’re gravity to my light and you bend the fuck out of me.”
Her breath caught and bent over, pressing her soft flesh to him while guiding his hands back to unfasten her bra. “I’ll be a black hole and drink you in and never let you go.”
“Yes,” he gasped, releasing her bra and then rolling them so he had her pinned with one strong leg as he licked a pretty nipple, all hard and ready for launch. “Be a black hole, my singularity, baby.”
She lifted her hips, unfastened her skirt and pushed it and her matching panties down, off the edge of the bed with her shoes to follow, one thump after another.
He left the bed long enough to peel his own shirt off, revealing the lean cut muscles that a summer working hard on a ranch will give you, then his new pants dropped. His cock sprung free and she rolled forward, both hands reaching for it, one cupping his balls, the other sliding along the length, before she drank him in with her mouth. The heat wrapped around him and he might as well have fallen into a singularity for everything he was was hers. Her tongue swirled around him, under the edge of the head of his cock, then suddenly he was so deep in her and his mind lost all ability to process thought. “God damn son of a bitch!”
Just as fast, her mouth moved to his balls, sucking one then the other testicle in, babying them, sucking. His hands combed into her hair, working it free of the ponytail and then memories of her beautiful neck brought him back and he pushed forward, pinning her to the bed. His kiss took her mouth, tongue deep and possessive in her mouth, while his hand gently, but urgently corralled one soft curve of tit.
She moaned as his kisses went down her neck, slow, reaching to the back, then down over her clavicle, licking and kissing, both hands then on her breasts, massaging and bringing their souls together with an intimacy and marvelous instinctive bonding. Her long legs wrapped around him, but he pushed down, kissing between her beautiful breasts, down over her lean tight belly, over neatly trimmed dark pubic hair. She rested a leg on his back, hands running over his hair, her other leg bent and relaxed, as he licked her glistening wet pussy. Trembling fingers parted her lips, pressing the tender petals back and down to reveal her swollen clit. He licked, gentle, gauging her reaction. His tongue circled her pearl, feeling the heat of her desire. She moaned, fluttering and he laid a strong arm across her belly and began in earnest to drive her to an orgasm, sucking and licking, paying perfect attention to her sounds, movements, and when she came, she screamed, body arching under him, her fingers softly clawing at him. Her words, in a beautiful language he didn’t know, communicated in a way that was beyond civilization, pleasure, passion, even the deepest roots of love and he found that he loved the sound of pleasure in her voice more than he’d ever loved anything.
She melted there on her bed and he climbed back, kissing her, very gently still fingering her clit with calloused cowboy fingers until he was lining up his hard and hungry cock at the mouth of heaven. Balanced between his knees and one elbow on the soft bed by her head, he caressed dark hair back from her eyes and kissed her tenderly. “Still want this cock, Badr?”
“Yes, god yes,” she breathed, voice colored with the accent of her first language. “Fuck me! I need you!”
Slowly he slid into her tight heat, a heat greater than he’d ever experienced that made him fear for his endurance.
Her arms went around him, rubbing his back gently, kissing his shoulder, tugging at his hair with her lips. “Hold, don’t move yet, recite pi to a hundred digits, then move,” she purred and he hid his face against her shoulder, home in ways he had never imagined, not lonely in ways that he hadn’t known existed. “There’s my beautiful love,” she purred and when he moved, slowly stroking her vagina, it was as though he was the piston and she the shaft, always having been meant for each other, always one part where passion exploded into the heat of love and drove the cycle forward.
Her calm stoked into rising passion, gripping and panting. Body slapping, sucking, displacing the physical world, and he held her, a hand in her hair, the other under her back gripping her shoulder. She gripped back, just as powerfully and when she came the second time, her body clenched him. He cried out, head pulling back, so lost in his own cumming that he barely felt her kisses on his throat, though they grounded him, lifted him with a safety in the most vulnerable moment of life.
They rolled as he melted and she tucked her feet under his thighs, clenched and milked him with strong vaginal muscles. Panting, he lay on her bed, little ripples of aftershock shaking him and willing a little more cream into her. When breath was a little more caught, she reached down to touch his lips. “You have beautiful lips, as well, airplane boy.”
Sweaty, shaking, he smiled. A hand on her hip, wanting to keep touching her, to never let her go, his voice shook a little as he replied, “I’m glad you think so, pi girl.”
She leaned forward until her breasts pressed against his chest. “Would you like to see my bathroom,” she asked suggestively, wickedly and he was utterly sure it was more than a shower and a toilet.
“Yes, ma’am, I believe I would.”