When We Were Young

Quarter-life crisis

I avoided mentioning it but she knew anyway; since my birthday fell on the weekend, there was no way around it. Skylar was insistent that I stay over Friday night and pack enough for the weekend. I usually did anyway so that wasn't much of a stretch. But, I wasn't allowed to bring any books to study.

After work, which ended at 2pm on Fridays in the summer, I went straight to her place. The city was scorching. The humidity felt like it was at 99% and the concrete reflected the blaring sun capturing everyone in a hamster ball of heat.

Skylar buzzed me up and left the door open to her apartment. I didn't have a key, even though I was spending a few nights a week there, and she would spend a couple at my place. When she wasn't sleeping next to me, I seemed to have a lot more trouble falling asleep. The law books spread across the bed weren't very comforting.

"Happy birthday," she screeched when I came inside. She was smiling from ear to ear, and seemingly happier than I was, maybe because I was one year closer to her.

"It's not until tomorrow," I groaned and dropped my bag by the front door.

"Oh, don't be a poop. Twenty-five is a great age!" She ran over and kissed my cheek, then crinkled her nose. "You smell."

"Wow, you really know how to compliment the birthday boy." She giggled, knowing I was teasing.

"Just think, in two years we'll celebrate your golden birthday." Skylar was rushing around the kitchen. I noticed a big cake, freshly baked and sitting on some racks, and I realized that's what smelled so good when I came inside.

I slid onto the barstool at the counter, finishing off the now warm bottle of water I had with me. "I think you're making that up."

Skylar looked up, her lips in a perfect O. "I am not! It's when you turn the age of the date your birthday falls on. So when you're 27 on July 27."

I laughed. She was always coming up with these little tales and superstitions.

"And what is it supposed to mean?"

"Good luck for the whole year," she beamed while she wiped the counter.

"Uh huh. So you were luckiest the year when you turned 11?"

"Hmph," was her reply. "Well, why don't you shower? I have plans for us tonight, and then the weekend is a surprise."

Skylar leaned over, and pressed her mouth to mine.

"You really didn't have to go through so much trouble," I murmured against her mouth and pulled her around the counter so she was planted firmly between my legs. "I like birthdays," she smiled.

"I know, but still. I'm happy just staying here with you."

She pushed back my hair from my face. "Don't ruin this for me. I made big plans!"

"Okay, okay! I won't ruin my birthday for you." I twisted my lips. "Since it's my birthday do I get what I want all weekend?" I tightened my grip around her waist, even though she squirmed. She was getting me aroused, which usually happened when I hadn't seen her for a couple of days. We did have a hard time keeping our hands off each other.

Her eyebrows shot up at this request. "Well, I suppose within reason. But your birthday is tomorrow, after all."

"Just a small request. I could use some help in the shower," I said, taking her hands and placing them on my belt.

She started to laugh, her hair falling around her shoulders. "Oh, could you now? I guess I am good in showers. Helping as it were."

"Happy birthday to me," I sang, and pulled her down the hallway. *

***

Dinner was at a restaurant up near Central Park that was beyond fancy, and I knew because I have been to some extremely fancy places with my father in London. Skylar wore a short—very short—shimmery pink tank dress that complimented her tanned skin, with heels that made her almost as tall as I was, and I had to put back on a suit. But she had a car for us, so the summer heat was kept at bay.

A six-course meal with a wine pairing kept us there for hours, full and not even that tipsy with the amount of food we were consuming. Each plate was considerably small but by the time we got to the last, we weren't sure how we had eaten that much.

The car dropped us off in the theater district to see the Broadway show, Hamilton. The seats were amazing and although I wasn't much into plays and musicals, I was in impressed.

We needed another shower when we got home, and luckily Skylar was happy to join me. We were lying in her bed, trying to cool down from the shower that was supposed to cool us off. Unfortunately, or fortunately, we only came out warmer because of certain activities.

"There's still cake," she said.

"I don't think I can move. What you just did in there, that thing with your tongue, I'm done."

"So that means no more sex tonight?" Skylar asked, rolling onto her side and running her finger around my nipple. I felt it harden when she bent over and flicked it with her tongue.

"Now, I didn't say that," I said, groaning as her mouth engulfed my nipple and her hand sliding down to cup my cock that had grown hard in mere seconds. "If I ever say I don't want to have sex with you, feel free to slap me."

Skylar laughed and withdrew her hand leaving me feeling cold. "What if I want to slap you anyway?" She wiggled her eyebrows.

"You didn't tell me you were into that?"

"No, no, I'm not. Well, maybe a little spanking here and there," her voice was smooth and sexy. "Now, how about that cake that I slaved over?"

I propped myself up on my elbows and stared down. "Um, I might need a minute."

She frowned and reached out for me. "Well, I suppose I could help you out with your problem first and then we could have cake."

I sighed and fell back against the bed, when her mouth found my problem. "I'm beginning to love my birthday."