Her Offering

She sought him, the one who was too old for her, the one that works for her father, the one who sits across from her now, with his girlfriend, pretending to be absorbed in the dull conversation that is buzzing around the dinner table. Her father drones on, lecturing the table about the current affairs of state, and all Ruby can think about is the man across the table, wondering what it would be like to kiss him. She can’t stop staring at his lips, and the way his mouth moves, slowly, pausing to swallow, and then chew again. She wants to lean in, and kiss him, taking in the forbidden, taking in the spiciness of the pepper that still lingers on his lips from that night’s dinner.

Ruby gets up, and starts clearing the table. She makes a show of herself, flipping back her long red hair, and smoothing down her tight fitting black dress that she wears with fishnet stockings, and a pair of beat- up combat boots. Her look, her mother says, scares off boys with her charcoal blackened eyes and painted red lips. Ruby pays no mind to her mother’s thoughts. She knows that despite her unique look, boys still like her, but she doesn’t want the boys that like her. She wants the clean-shaven, blonde haired older man that sits across from her pretending not to see her.

“Oh I used to have a pair of those when I was your age,” the girlfriend says, batting her eyelashes.

“I find that hard to believe,” the boyfriend says, now looking over at Ruby, moving his eyes up and down her slender untouched body.

“You can’t see me wearing something like that?” she says, pointing over at Ruby.

Ruby likes how she has become the center of attention. She likes how now, the man that works for her father is looking at her. And how when she clears his plate, and reaches in front of him, he gets a peek of her perky breasts, and she a whiff of his mint aftershave. She knows it’s just a matter of time, and she has all the time in the world to wait. She has waited a very long time to be legal, to be willing, and to be able to have the courage to strike.

She makes him nervous as she sits on the couch wearing her cut off shorts and a tank top with out a bra. She likes the feel of how the cotton fabric caresses her hardened nipples as she leans forward to reach for her diet coke. He is having a hard time concentrating, entering the data in the computer that her father has requested he do before he returns from meetings. She feels his sideway glances as she laughs at something amusing on the TV, flipping her hair back, stretching her arms above her head just enough so he can get a quick glance at the side of her right breast.

“Don’t you have anything to do?” he asks.

“Nope,” She says not looking at him, but knowing he is looking at her.

“Don’t you have any friends to call or go out with on such a beautiful summer day?”

“Nope, got nothing to do, unless you have any suggestions,” this time Ruby does look over at him, and smiles, and playfully spreads her legs to show the hole in her shorts right above her inner thigh, which shows that she is not wearing any underwear.

‘Ruby, I know what you are trying to do, and like I’ve told you before, I am not going to be your first.”

‘Yeah, you like the worn out types,” Ruby replies with an edge in her voice.

“I like Cheryl. She is sweet and caring, and pleasing to the eye.”

Ruby says nothing but she wonders, is she not pretty enough for him, smart enough, willing enough? She wants to say something witty, something to make him notice her, and something that will make him turn his head away from the computer screen and come join her on the couch. She wants to feel his firm hands on her body. She wants to feel his lips upon her skin. She needs it. He makes her nervous and excited all at the same time. Her mind floods with wanton thoughts of his hands wandering all over her body, kissing her, loving her on the family couch. Years, she has wanted him. Knowing in her heart, he would be her first. The first time she saw him, she knew there was something unspoken between them. And now, her recent return from college, her hair brushed back in a ponytail, her firm legs dangling off the couch arm, and him, always pretending she is invisible, always pretending he does not know what strange sexual entanglement the two of them will play out together.

“What’s the big deal, anyway, Ted, to take my virginity?” Ruby asks, getting up from the couch and moving behind him. “You know you are safe. I am safe, and really, what is the big deal?”

He turns to face her, looking up at her. Her perky breasts are inches from his clean shaved face. She moves closer to him. He moves back, and gets up.

“Ruby, go find a nice boy to fall in love with, and then you will understand what the big deal is.”

“What does love have to do with it?”

“I will not be your first,” he says walking down the hallway to the kitchen.

Five years, she has waited. Five years of watching him have one girlfriend after another come and go. They are all the same looking, brunettes, short, sporty type. She knows he is too pretty for her, and really not her type. She goes for the Goth boys, the dark mysterious types with their trench coats, and black eye liner, and hoop earrings. But for some reason she has it in her head that Mr. Blonde haired, 6’6 is going to be her first. She has fallen in love with him. And did it really matter that he was not on love with her? At least she was in love; at least she was moved by something unexplainable.

She follows him out of the living room into the kitchen. He is pouring himself a cup of coffee, his back to her. She likes his broad shoulders, and firm butt. She likes how his Levis are a little baggy. She sighs to try and get his attention, he ignores her, and opens the refrigerator, and she flops nosily into a kitchen chair.

“Seriously, Ruby, you really need to do something today.”

“Am I distracting you?”

“Yes,” he says, not looking at her, and walking back to the living room. This time Ruby does not follow. She stomps out of the apartment.

She wonders to herself as she walks to the park that maybe her innocence scares him off. She laughs to herself that there is nothing really that innocent about her except the fact that she has never felt a man inside her. But she has envisioned herself naked, laying in his arms, his warm flesh against her own, he caressing her thigh after he has taken her several times. She is sated after their love making. She feels that this is how one would be after several hours of fucking. But, only in her head, never has she felt it on her tender flesh.

Her desire for him consumes her every waking thought. She knows despite her young age that her behavior has become obsessive. She knows she should go out with a man her own age. A nice twenty something man, who would adore her with kisses, and pick her up and take her out on dates, but all that bores her. She does not care about dates, and make-out sessions in the back of cars, and confessions of love. She wants the raw act; she wants the man that does not want her.

He is gone when she returns. His scent lingers, and she rubs her body like a cat in heat up and down the chair he sits when typing the data in the computer. She breathes in the remnants of his musky scent, and pictures herself straddling him on the very chair he sat at, diligently entering the data, pretending Ruby is not there. Pretending to himself that he will not be her first, but she knows differently, she knows that she always gets what she wants. It is always a matter of time, especially with a man, who regardless of her age, and regardless of her inexperience, she is very desirable, even if only because Ruby is a virgin, untouched, unspoiled, and very willing to offer it up to him.

“I don’t even like you,” he says, peeling off her shorts and pulling off her top. She stands naked in front of him, her innocence pulsating through her skin, setting a glow to her cheeks. She stands bold, looking straight at him, knowing that he can’t help himself, knowing that patience is really the best part of the game. He grabs her roughly, and says “have you even ever been kissed?” She says nothing but feels his lips close upon hers. There is no malice in his kiss despite his harsh words. He gently edges her lips open with his tongue, and runs it along her front teeth, and then searches out for hers. His one arms lifts her up to him, cradling her like a fragile child in his arms, as he explores her mouth, softly caressing her back.

She wraps her arms around him as he lifts her to his bed, and benevolently lays her down, and affectionately kisses her face. First her lips, and then in between her between her eyebrows, and along her jaw line, and then she feels soft kisses on her neck. The whole time Ruby holds onto him, never letting go until he moves her arms away from him, and she feels his kisses on her stomach, and his hand begins to stroke her inner thighs, sending her into a state of solace, a state where only her dreams have taken her, and now, now she feels the hands that she had only dreamt of touching her for the first time. She breathes in, and arches her body closer to his feel.

“Open your eyes, Ruby, look at me,” he demands.

She does what he asks, and looks him straight in the eyes, and leans up and kisses him full on the mouth, taking him by surprise.

“You are a greedy little vixen,” he says pulling away from her and stripping off his shirt, and sliding out of his jeans. He takes in her youthful body spread out to him; he can’t believe he allowed her in to his apartment. He can’t believe what he is about to do, But she came to him, she pursued him. She told him what she wanted. She was leaving to go back to school tomorrow, and she wanted him.

He leans over her. She is pretty, not beautiful, not really his type, but there is something about her that he has always found appealing, maybe if anything herself assurance that she wanted him. He moves his head down to rest between her breasts. He likes her breasts, small and perky with pretty pink nipples. He licks at them, looking up at her, as he sucks at them. Her eyes are closed and her arms are above her head. He bites her left breast to get a response from her, to make her open her eyes. She keeps them closed tight, “Harder.” She demands, bite me harder, leave a mark, mark me, she says still not opening her eyes.

He nibbles down her right side, and right at her waist line he begins to suck, she moves closer to his mouth, grabbing at his head, and pushing him harder into her body. She feels his teeth, and she takes pleasure in the sensation. He stops and moves her legs apart. He looks up at her, and this time she has opened her eyes, and is looking straight at him. She moves her hips slightly, arching herself to him, her body is her offering to him, and yet, he does not understand why she has chosen him? Why he is being given the pleasure to be her first. She is a strange girl with her convictions. He wonders if she even likes him, but his thoughts of self-doubts do not stop him from taking her. He licks at her clit, softly at first, wanting to hear her first moans, wanting to feel her first shudders of delight. He spreads her legs further apart, exposing her untouched pussy to him. It is a wonder to him that she has waited so long to feel the pleasures of a man fondle her, lick at her innocence, suck up her need. He breathes on her clit, teasing her a bit; she moves her body closer to his face, grabs at his head and pushes him closer to her sex. He sucks harder. She has no explainable taste. Some women’s taste is sour and stale, but this one, this one who is now pulling at his hair, and pushing his face closer to her, tastes of nothing. It is like he is licking up air, he fingers her, to stimulate more of her juices, and can’t believe how wet she is.

He moves away from her sex, afraid to carry out the act. He looks down at her, she stars at him, not saying a word, and she leans up to him, and pulls him down to her. She kisses him softly on the lips, and between his forehead. She kisses his jaw line, and then his neck, moving back up to find his mouth. She slides her hands up and down his back, liking the feel of his skin upon hers fingertips.

She likes the feel of his weight on top of her. She wraps her long legs around him, pulling him closer to her. And then she feels his cock nuzzle at her opening, he is trying to be gentle with her, easing his way in. She is tight, but she seems to know how to move her body forward, meeting his first thrust. He moves down to kiss her, grabbing at her, pushing her closer towards him. She lets out a soft cry when she feels his chest hairs tickle at her breasts. Never has she felt the small pleasures of having a body atop her, never the pure raw act of feeling skin upon skin, rubbing up and down her untouched body. She moans again in innocent delight, thinking to herself that really this is all she ever wanted was to feel his skin upon hers, to feel his kisses upon her lips, the final act in her mind is unimportant, inconsequential for all that she has sought over the years.

“Am I hurting you?” He asks, stopping his thrusting, but she only shakes her head no, and moves her hands onto his buttock pushing him into her more. She likes the sharp pain that hits at her vagina walls; she knows that it will only be painful for a short time. She also knows that she will not come, but still it is pleasurable to have him touching her, and being inside her. Her eyes are tightly closed, but she feels his hands upon her face. She feels his kisses on her checks. She feels his tongue up and down at her neck.

“Open your eyes and watch me come,” he demands. His thrusts grow more demanding, she watches his face contort, in a wild animalistic expression, blurred by the darkness, taking on life of its own, and then he groans against her lips, and she feels for the first time the tingling sensation of his sperm burst into her, and the warm transparent moisture mingling with her own. Her tears run down her face, burning her cheeks, which have become chafed by his kisses. He does not notice her tears. He is consumed in his own pleasure; he has collapsed on her body. She takes in his weight, afraid to move. She does not want him to move off of her just yet. She draws in his musky scent, letting his hair tickle at her neck. She rubs at the back of his neck, feeling the softness of his hair upon her fingertips. This is all she ever wanted from him. He moves off of her, and their combined fluids spill out of her, like her tears, she feels the warmth of the unsayable, yet the emptiness that seems to always be attached to that, which has been longed for, and finally comes true.

No words are exchanged, but he rolls over and pulls her towards him. She lies there nestled with in the crook of arm, and she knows it doesn’t matter; he has no love for her. She chose him. She was the one that took what she wanted. She had waited, patiently, to be his first.