"And you're sure this is all you want?"

"Yes, I'm sure." He nuzzled my neck. "Now, tell me what you want."

"Just ...umm... hold me. And do that some more."

Cary's hand slid between my legs as the other arm pulled me close. His mouth began working on my skin. The fingers gently stroked my clitoris and then moved further down. I gasped as he gently slid two fingers inside me. As his hand moved and his tongue teased my neck I began to moan and clutch him. My cries grew louder and his hand went faster. The combined sensations ate away at my control until I couldn't concentrate on anything else. My muscles clenched tighter and tighter until my entire body was clenched with excitement and I buried my face into his chest and screamed as my orgasm rushed through me in ragged, violent spasms.

He held me even closer, kissing my eyes, my cheeks, my forehead until I could speak again.

Before I could thank him, he thanked me. "That was lovely," he said. "God, you're beautiful."

"You couldn't have gotten much out of it."

"Nonsense," he replied. He brought me a towel from the tiny adjoining bathroom and helped wipe the wetness from my thighs. He helped with my clothes as well, even fastening my bra.

So there I was, fully clothed, and feeling about as awkward as when I'd first stepped in there.

"I'd like to see you again," Cary stated. "Let me give you my phone number. Call if you want to. Whenever you want to." Then he hugged me, whispering, "I think you're remarkable," and we slipped out to rejoin the crowd at the barbecue in the yard.

I couldn't believe that no-one had even noticed we were gone.

For the next week, he haunted me whenever I wasn't writing. He was all I could think of--light brown hair, beautiful smile, gentle hands. Touching me.

So finally, a week after the barbecue, I gathered my courage and dialed Cary's number, half hoping he wouldn't be there. But he was.

After hanging up, I poured a drink, paced, and wondered if I should change. But what do you wear to be seduced? I stuck with my shorts and workshirt.

When the knock finally came, I jumped.

He was wearing a black t-shirt, jeans and sneakers. His hair was in a ponytail. It struck me again, how gorgeous he was.

I offered a drink, which he turned down. He asked if he could put on some music and soon the air was full of Eric Johnson instead of tension. We slow-danced around the living room for a while, and then I led the way to the bedroom.

"No shoes on the bed," I insisted. He had on black socks too.

He kissed me hard and we fell back onto the bed. This time he knew more about what I wanted, and his hands wandered all over my body as we kissed and rolled.

I tried to kiss his neck, but he stopped me. "No," he said, "this is for you."

I was confused. "But I want to turn you on, Cary."

"You do, sweetheart," he said. "More than you know." He began undressing me, unbuttoning my shirt, kissing along my shoulder blades and between my breasts. He eased off my shorts and underwear and used his tongue to make me yell.