Jack's Adventures 04: Kara 01 - Sex Stories

Jack's Adventures 04: Kara 01

... them down.

Except me. As the night wound to a close, and everyone else started leaving, I expected her to bow out, for me to have to say goodbye to the possibility of sleeping with her. But it never happened. And suddenly there we were, sitting around the corner of a table, leaning in close, talking intimately, with no other suitors vying for her attention.

"So," I said. "I'd like to have another drink."

"Same," she said.

"But I'd really not like to spend $15."

"Me neither."

"I've got a pretty good selection at home, so-"

"I'm down."

"-I don't want to be presumptuous-"

"Jack." She smiled, her blue eyes digging into me. "I'm down."

I smiled. "Let's go then."

A half hour later I let us into my apartment. Kara walked in in front of me, a purse over her shoulder, and I watched her take in the space. As I've written before, I have a very curated space, combining old-fashioned aesthetics with a modern edge.

"Not what I was expecting," she said, dropping her purse on my coffee table.

"What were you expecting?" I asked.

She sat down bouncily on the couch, one leg crossed under her butt, and looked around.

"Movie posters. Jean Claude Van Damme. Kung fu flicks."

"Those don't do a good job of getting me laid."

She looked at me sharply. Too late I realized what I'd implied about her visit. But she was already smiling wryly.

"I think by the time they've walked through the door they've signed up for whatever," she said.

"Whatever?" ...

... I said.

"Well, not whatever."

"What did you sign up for?"

Her bright blue eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips, a smile tugging at the corners.

"A drink," she said, sitting back. "At least."

I nodded.

"Coming right up."

I made myself an old-fashioned, her a dirty martini, and brought them to the couch. While she took her first sip of martini, I went to my vinyl player and put on a record, Miles Davis' Sketches of Spain.

"Wow, jazz," she said. "You're pulling out all the stops."

I sat down next to her.

"Is it working?" I asked.

"Do you usually have to ask that?" she said.

I felt myself redden.

"No."

She was smiling, but I felt like I'd screwed up, that I was on my back foot. I looked away and took a sip of my drink, listening to Miles' trumpet softly blaring. Finally I turned back to her.

"You make me uncomfortable," I said.

Her smile faltered.

"Why?" she asked.

"I think because I really want to impress you."

"You want to impress everyone."

"Yeah, but with you I'm scared it won't work."

We looked into each other's eyes, hers searching, me feeling exposed. Then she smiled. She stood up, took another sip of her martini, and put it down on the coffee table. Then she stood facing me, looking down at me.

"It's working."

She then put one knee on the couch to my left, her other knee to my right, and straddled me. She took my face in her hands and kissed me tenderly on the lips. Her lips were wonderfully soft, her ...