Surrendering Affair

Chapter 4*

"It would be absurd if we found ourselves indulging in anything more than just... conversation." Ricky sighed, taking a step back.

"Why would it be so absurd?" I stepped forward. "Seems to make perfect sense to me."

He began walking backwards. "Well, we're different for one. Two different worlds..."

"And yet we found ourselves cooped up in this apartment together." I continued stepping toward him, walking slowly with one foot in front of the other. Ricky continued backing away, until stopped with a thump. The back of his thighs hit against a decorative table behind him. I walked up to where he stood, staring him right in the eyes. I lightly placed my finger on his chest, then allowed it to run down his shirt. Ricky seemed to be reeling under my touch. His fingers gripped the wood of the table behind him until his knuckles turned white. My eyes peered up at him. "I thought you said you found me attractive?"

"I do." He breathed out, his tone laced with surrender. "And you know I do."

I reached upward toward his neck and began adjusting the neckline to his t-shirt. "Well, what's the big deal then? We're different. That doesn't mean we can't find something in common."

I pushed my body against his. He swallowed.

"I'm sure we've got a lot in common." Ricky choked out, his cheeks burning red. The muscles in his arms tensed as he continued to squeeze the table behind him. This would've been a perfect moment for him to make his move, but instead fear got the best of him. Instead, he asked "What kind of music do you listen to? I listen to Rockabilly a lot."

"I listen to Jazz." I answered, continuing to run my fingers along the neckline of his t-shirt.

"I don't listen to that much. Don't get me wrong, I like it— I just..." He said with a shaky voice. "How about Bluegrass? I really like some Bluegrass."

"I listen to the Blues." I told him, my finger swiping inside of his shirt. His lips parted as I ran my finger along his collar bone. He pressed his lips together.

"I'll try the Blues if you listen to it." He quietly told me. "Y— you know what I do like a lot? Swing."

"I love some Swing music." I placed my other hand on him, wrapping my arms around his neck. "See? We do have something in common. So Regina was wrong after all."

"About— about what?" He asked in a shaky voice. I wouldn't be surprised if his fingers began to bleed at this point, he held on to the table so tightly.

"Sex is the only thing a guy and girl can have in common." I told him in a causal voice. He stared at me blankly. I pressed myself even harder against him. He had been hard for the past few minutes. Taking his hands, I brought them up to my waist. "How do you feel about sex, Ricky?"

"I already told you... I only had it with—" Ricky once again was going to bring up his high school love.

"Oh right. You did mention that." I said as I swiped my hands along his shoulders. "Your high school sweetheart. What was her name again?"

"Susanna?" Ricky spoke up.

"Ricky, how would you like to get to know me a bit better?" I asked him.

"I want it more than anything." He shut his eyes. His eyes stayed shut as his lips parted. I lightly rocked my body against him. His hand squeezed onto my waist.

"But just know, Ricky, I'm not at all like Susanna." I whispered to him as he enjoyed my body rocking against his.

"I'm sure you're not." He answered, his eyes still shut. He was quiet for a moment, then spoke again. "I'm in ecstasy, Nicole."

I began to rise up to his lips, putting them right in front of his. I felt his breath against me, our bottom lips lightly brushed. Then all of a sudden, he moved me to the side while holding my waist and walked to the other side of the room.

"Want to listen to music?" He asked awkwardly as he walked over to a Victrola. The old antique was built to look like a cabinet. I leaned my butt against the the table nearby me, crossing my arms. Ricky opened the top to the Victrola cabinet, then opened the two doors toward the bottom of it. Crouching down, he looked at the multiple records wrapped in thin, yellowing onion paper. "My gosh, these must all be over forty years old!"

"It's old lady music. We don't have to listen to it." I waved my hand. Still, Ricky reached into the cabinet and picked up a handful of the records. As he shuffled through them in his hand, the paper made a smearing noise as the stuck together records were separated.

"Oh come on. I think we're both due for some mental stimulation." He smiled as he looked at each record title.

"I think what we were up to before was just enough." I placed a hand on my hip. Ricky's eyes looked to me for a second, before placing the records back in them cabinet. All except for one. He took it out of the paper and placed it onto the record player. After winding the device up, he placed the needle down onto the vinyl. The muffled, slow sound began to speed up into a comprehensible song.

He placed his back against the wall next to the Victrola. The music battled with the air conditioning in terms of volume. My feet shifted against the oriental carpet as my hips swayed toward him. The sun was beginning to set outside, golden beams of light shined into the old apartment. Except in our little corner. No, there it was dark. As if to give us privacy in Old Mrs. Nelson's home.

If you listened closely, beyond the air conditioning and the ragtime record playing, you could hear our lips finally connecting. Around the second verse, the soft hum of moaning accompanied the active machinery.

By the bridge of the song, Ricky's pants were by his ankles. His back still against the wall. I lifted my skirt and allowed him to fell all he'd caused over the course of the day. He kissed me as his finger found it's way where I wanted it most. Eventually the record finished, and all you could hear was the spinning of the handle on the side of the Victrola. The air conditioner roared.

The thump of Ricky's body against the wall created a rhythm while I guided our bodies together. He held on tightly, watching me as I used his member for my pleasure. For a guy who had only been with one girl, Ricky felt good. He rocked his hips forward and back along with me. I held onto his shoulder, squeezing it as it kept me balanced. My leg was lifted a little, wrapped around his. He seemed to be totally engrossed in the feeling of being inside of me. An indescribable expression was written all over his face.

The spinning of the Victrola handle began to slow, until finally it came to a full stop. Ricky cried out. I looked at what he'd left on my thigh. He stared at it, almost in shame. I took my finger, swiping it off of my skin and holding it between us.

He pulled up his pants and ran off into a bedroom. After sucking on my finger, I went after him.