Interview With Tomas Part One
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They rode in silence back to the house. Stone was trying to wrap his brain around the last hour of his life while Nikki stared out the window with a vacant smirk. Her hand rested on her upper thigh, deceptively delicate fingers surreptitiously digging against the shape of her mound as it pushed against her jeans.
He knew she felt him thinking about her. He could practically smell it rising off her skin. He kept searching for the right compartments to fit everything into he felt coming on without sharing a word of it with her. He knew he would eventually. He just needed to have this conversation with himself first. The only problem was not knowing the script.
But then he found himself working so hard to ignore what Nikki was doing with her hand it started to block everything else from his mind.
For reasons he couldn't explain, he was glad Nikki wanted to stay despite her mother moving to a bigger, fancier house, with far more luxury and advantage than she'd ever have with Stone. He was happy for Ning, and felt good about helping her. She had more relatives back home who needed help, and now they were going to get it.
Stone had known all along Ning would move on sooner or later. He'd always assumed Nikki would automatically go with her, but Nikki was a young woman now. Of all the choices she could've made, staying on with him was the last one he expected her to make. Her surprise revelation back in his office had taken him by surprise, but the whole afternoon seemed to be turning into a surreal collision of events.
Nikki had been a curious presence on the periphery of Stone's life ever since he'd met Ning. She'd been very quiet and reserved in the beginning, but now she was almost a different person, even in her way of speaking. Very little of her native accent remained. Just enough to set her voice just a little off center in an alluring cadence. He wondered if she hadn't changed so much as just emerged from inside herself.
He went so deeply into his thoughts about her he almost forgot she was sitting close enough to reach out and touch. When he pulled into the driveway of his house, a new look came over her face as her head turned to face him.
"So we're home, right?" she asked, her tone expectant.
"Of course," he said. "Home."
Nikki grinned and got out of the car.
Stone sat until she got inside. When he finally went in she'd made herself scarce. He went upstairs and lay down on his bed, but the little bit of sleep he was hoping for wouldn't come. His mind was spinning with the strange turn of events the early afternoon had brought.
The best he could do was reach that stage between sleep and waking. His body was in a restful stasis while his mind was flowing with sense memories. The patient tease of Nikki's lips and tongue as she hunkered beneath his desk. The feel of Rena's supple flesh, the scent of her arousal in his head.
He finally got off the bed and sat on the floor against the foot. He took off his shoes and sat staring at the poster of a desert sunset thumb tacked to the wall. He focused on the little white sun in the middle, ringed with garish oranges and reds. The spot slowly grew, becoming larger and larger until it enveloped him and he saw himself standing in a pure, white room where there was only the sound of his own breathing.
Then, somewhere in the midst of his half dream-half daydream, Nikki's voice filtered in softly from his bedroom doorway.
"Sucking your cock made me horny."
He didn't open his eyes. Her voice seemed far away. He wasn't even completely sure she was really there. The room felt empty. He sat until his sense of time warped and kept drifting and he realized he was thirsty.
His eyes were still closed when he heard Nikki calling from somewhere else in the house.
"Stone! Stone! I need your help with something."
He finally opened his eyes and took a deep breath. He needed something to drink. Either coffee or whiskey. He still had to teach at the center later, so coffee would have to suffice for now.
"Stooooone."
There was a sing-song tone in her voice this time. He got up and followed the sound to her room. Her bathroom door was open and he could hear water running.
"What do you need?" he called from the safe distance of her bedroom doorway.
"I need you to come here," she called back in a half-whine.
Stone took cautious steps he knew he shouldn't, until he was standing in the wide open doorway to her bathroom. She was sitting naked on the corner seat of her tub, holding the shower nozzle in her left hand and a razor in her right.
She was soft brown all over and soaking wet, her thighs widely parted. The beads of moisture covering her skin had the effect of deepening the tone of her complexion. The tips of her breasts looked like she'd leaned too far into a vat of melted chocolate, and there were broad, swirling smears of something half creamy, half soapy covering her upper thighs and pussy.
He recognized the scent of peaches, and realized it was the same bodywash her mother used. The odd thought flit through his mind he would go out and buy her something different. Something that would be her own.
The sound of her name came out with little more volume than the breath it rode on. Even to him, it wasn't clear if his tone was reproof or surrender.
The moment in which any reproof would mean something was rapidly passing, or else already gone. He felt as if he'd stepped into a script, already carefully written in her mind. Her froth coated pussy was carefully aimed at the doorway – at him – spread and lathered to greet him when he went in, while her thighs opened like a curtain on a secret rainforest. All beauty and dripping nectar. Rare, special yet familiar, and not a natural habitat for his species.
Sticky heat gathered in the crotch of his snug boxer briefs. He leaned against the doorframe and blew a long sigh.
"I need help shaving my cunt," she pouted.
"Don't call it that," he said, finally meeting her flickering eyes. "That's one of those words people use to hurt each other."
Her full lips danced into a nasty smile of delight.
"Like whore, you mean?"
"Like that," he nodded.
"Then what should I call my pussy ... Professor Stone?"
"Pussy is just fine ... and don't call me Professor."
"All these rules ... now that my mother the whore is gone."
Stone closed his eyes and held his breath a few seconds. "My house, my rules."
"Yes, Sir," she said with a breath that pushed her breasts forward. "So what's the rule about pussy shaving?"
"That you should do it yourself. Or go to a salon and get waxed."
"Ow, waxing hurts." Her mouth pursed into a shape that reminded him how they'd looked circled around the inflated shaft of his cock barely two hours before.
"You already look ... pretty smooth," he pointed out.
"Yeah," she grinned, "but I like to keep it that way, and sometimes it's hard to reach everything by yourself."
He looked skeptical, while the pulse in his cock only began to hammer harder. She held the razor up toward him, putting a plaintive pout behind it. He stood perfectly still as the image flashed through his mind of grabbing her by both ankles and yanking her legs in the air to smack her wet ass with an open hand.
He could hear the way his flat palm against her wet cheeks would echo off the mosaic tiles, her piercing yelps of protest and surprise. Maybe that day would come, but probably not today.
The glassy sound of the spray running from the nozzle felt like the only thing left hanging between them. Translucent. Something perfectly effortless to see or reach through.
He walked barefoot to the tub and took the razor out of her extended hand. Then, still wearing his dark linen trousers and burgundy turtleneck, he stepped into the tub and knelt between her widely spaced feet. His pants instantly soaked in the running water.
"This is a bad idea, Nikki," he said, touching her thigh with his empty hand.
It sounded like a giggle started to spill out of her throat but she swallowed it back.
"Yeah, probably," she replied, a smoky cast filtering into her tone as her thighs peeled open even wider. "You're probably gonna think I'm such a whore now, right?"
"Don't ever call yourself a whore," Stone told her, his hand sliding along her thigh toward her lather coated pussy.
"What if I don't mean it like a bad thing?" He pushed against her thigh with his palm. "What if I don't mind you thinking of me like that?"
He brought the razor to her mound and slid it gently over her skin. She already felt smooth, and Stone's cock was prickling with hot sensations.
"Rinse yourself," he told her.
"Huh? Aren't you gonna... ?"
He set the razor down in the tub and picked up the bodywash. "You need more lather."
"Ohh ... yeahhh," she purred, grinning.
She held the nozzle up to her collarbones and let the water cascade down her body, rivulets running down along and between her thighs. Her skin glistened as she slowly lowered the nozzle toward her pussy, letting the spray rinse away the lingering traces of the dissipating lather clinging to her mound and lips.
Stone's clothes were getting soaked. Inside his wet pants, the shape of his growing cock was well defined. He measured his breathing, aware of how easily he could allow the smooth ripeness of Nikki's body to paralyze him.
Then her open hand was there between her thighs, grasping at air. "Gimme," she said.
He placed the bodywash in her hand and she lifted it up above the impertinent jut of her breasts and turned it upside down. The thick, clear liquid oozed out and dribbled over her body, dappling the space between her breasts. She squeezed the bottle until it was nearly half gone, letting the lotion drip and run across her skin.
Stone slid his palm in the creamy soap and rubbed around her mound and the hollows framing her lips with firm, slow strokes. The liquid gradually transformed into lather. He caught her eyes beaded on him with a driven gleam, and the pulse in his cock became a steady throb. He ground the heel of his palm against her warm, pliant pussy lips and her eyes closed briefly as she gnawed her bottom lip.
He continued rubbing the creamy wash into a lathery consistency, smearing her mound and upper thighs. As she watched him, the sound of her breath growing deeper and raspier, she started rubbing her breasts, massaging them as more lather formed.
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