I Want to Devour You
Holding my coffee, staring out over the balcony rail, I take a deep breath. One of those deep cleansing breathes that feels like it’s coming from somewhere closer to my soul than my lungs. With a smirk washing over my face I realize for the first time that my shoulders feel lighter, my chest not so tight, my arms and legs actually free from the burden of heavy mental cargo. I’m here. I’m home. I’m safe.
Divorce will do that to you. It takes you through hell and back and then cycles you through over and over again until you finally get spat out the other end. Like an infant learning life in a new world, completely covered in old wounds that are rooted so deep they’ve taken over.
The hard part is over. I mantrad to myself as I took a short sip of nearly too hot coffee. Court documents were finalized about a month ago. The signing hadn’t been as hard as I’d thought. Almost rushed it but decided to savor the moment in all of its mixed emotional glory. How the fuck did I get here?
Well, alcoholic father plus enabling mother, equals codependent parents who taught me that “love” looked like quiet sacrifice and validation only came from the outside. So naturally I gravitate toward the narcissist who needs the codependent partner to supply the exterior validation while I quietly sacrifice every ounce of my personality, passions, desires, and life, all to be sure to keep the peace. It was always a dance of what did I do wrong, how can I fix it, I’m not worthy and all the other bullshit stories I was coerced into feeling. A decade of losing myself later, and lots of therapy, I realized it was time to make some changes. AND here we are.
I felt my phone buzz in my hand. Suddenly I was swept from the ghost of exes past, to the ghost of exes future. As I laugh at my own shitty joke, I open up my phone to a text I never thought I’d see in my life. “I want to devour you.”
I lean back against my balcony door. Ugh, yes! Fuck me! Please. Over and over and over again! I met him randomly at a bar a few weeks ago. I’m full on in my phase of Let This Inner Goddess Fucking Shine! So I go play and try out this whole thing called being myself. I’m really not sure about the rules of the game yet, but so far it feels like it follows a few steps. First, give zero fucks about what other people think. Second, do something you wouldn’t usually do, something that scares you just a little. Third, see what happens and go from there. Listen to your body and make every decision based on how YOU feel. Not how someone else might take it, or feel about it, or think about it, or judge you about it. Once you do that, then keep going to step one...give zero fucks.
So I’m out at the bar and I’m wearing this outfit that in my last life of outdoor gear and athletic wear would never have been found in my wardrobe. I’m basically wearing a cutoff strappy tank top, and this adorable clingy skirt showing off my sexy abs and ass, compliments of the divorce stress weight drop. I sit down at an empty barstool and realize how much I enjoyed doing this in my twenties. I worked in an Irish Pub through grad school and sitting at a bar by myself felt like a very comfortable place to be. About twice that age now, here we are again, but the feeling’s just the same. I love the people watching, reading the nuances, finding out who’s on their first date, who might be on their last and everything in between. My childhood taught me a lot about hypervigilance and holy fuck can I read a room. My bartender ears and ADHD also helped me key into every conversation around me at the same time. It was kind of my superpower. Someone over my left shoulder was talking poorly about how she looked while her friends offered the half-hearted No you look great… With a tone clearly indicating this exchange happens on repeat. The bartender, maybe in his early 30s, with his back to me, pouring 2 drafts simultaneously reminded me of myself and I relished in the ease at which people in the industry can magically carry more full pints than what seems reasonably possible. The couple to my right, closing out their tab, were clearly not having any fun. The woman, maybe in her late 20s, who’s whole body frowning, looks down as her man-person, barely mid-twenties, goes to sign the tab.
“Seriously, a dollar?” I heard her say. “That’s just offensive, why even leave anything for that matter.” She says scowling at this point.
“Why do you always have to nitpick at me!” He retorts.
Oh Jesus. Here we go. Are you even old enough to drink?
“How many times do I have to tell you, they already make a living wage. Tips are just a way to take more of other people's hard earned money.” I almost cough up my last sip of beer.
“Whatever.” She says, surrendering to an argument she’s lost more than a few times. But I also notice her reaching into her purse for some cash, I wonder how she’s gonna play that one without getting noticed. Good for you, Girl!
“No, seriously.” He presses on, clearly not taking the hint that the conversation was over. “I work hard all day at my grown up desk job, so I can come relax and have a drink. Why do I need to pay someone on top of what they already get to basically do nothing.” The bartender’s ears turn a slight shade of pissed off as he cocks his head ever so slightly to the side, just enough to tune in better while still working.
I feel my inner bitch bubble up. She just can’t help herself at this point. My mouth is talking before I can put a stop to it. “How do you know you’re not paying them NOT to spit in your drink?” The words, out of my mouth, are unretractable at this point. The bartender, clearly having his mind read just then, audibly laughs…mostly to himself, but I notice.
“I’m sorry?” Man-child contorts around to see my face.
I continue. “Yea, hi. Not sorry to butt in here, I just can’t help myself. I’m going to go ahead and take a wild guess that you’ve never worked in the service industry.”
“Ugh, no. Of course not.” He says in disgust.
I continue, “And you have…” leaning over to make eye contact with his female counterpart.
“Yes.” She says sitting up a touch, proudly.
“So you know exactly how hard it is.” I assume out loud.
“I try to keep telling him.” Recognizing an allie in me, she’s eager to unite.
“Yea, clearly he’s soaked up every word.” I wink at her in solidarity, then pause and shift focus back on him. “So in your grown up desk job as you say, how often are you running around on your feet trying to please everyone, fielding complaints, getting yelled at, running food, fetching requests, taking orders, and calculating tabs, all while being polite, and cracking a joke or listening to someone drone on and smile like you’re not panicking on the inside about your food sitting in the window getting cold.”
“That’s clearly not what I do. I went to college and just finished grad school so I didn’t have to serve other people.” He’s oozing his prematurely inflated ego everywhere at this point.
“Ha! I have two masters degrees and I learned more from behind a bar than I’ve ever learned anywhere else. I’ve also never worked harder than I’ve ever worked from behind a bar. Clearly I’m not going to change your mind at all, but next time you want to be an asshole and not leave a tip because you completely misunderstand how servers get paid, maybe think twice about the fact that the percentage of tip you’re leaving is indirectly proportional to the chances of someone spitting in your drink for being said asshole.” Proud of myself for speaking up, I almost need to catch my breath from said rant.
“This one’s on the house…” As the bartender places the beer down in front of this twat waffle with one hand, I see him discretely flick the straw he’d just used to stir the beer with the other. “Miss pour. You were drinking the pilsner right?” Then he looks me dead in the fucking eye and gives the slightest wink. To which I immediately snort out a laugh, barely able to hold it together knowing that beer is NOT spit free.
“Oh why thank you!” Douche Bag says with the perfect heir of douchebaggery. “See, look at that. Maybe I’m not that much of an asshole afterall. Assholes don’t get free beers.” And he takes a giant gulp of spit beer.
I’m dead. I can’t. It’s too much. “Yup. You must be right. Proved me wrong. I hope you guys have a great night. Sorry I interrupted.” I say this as I grab my beer and stand up to turn my back to them before breaking into a spiteful smile. I’m shaking my head as I glance overtop the barstooled patrons to see the bartender side glancing back at me. His brown wavy hair, long enough to comb your fingers through, a dimple now appearing as he half smiles and walks parallel to me holding two drinks. I meander toward the end of the bar as I take my last sip. He casually drops the beers off to folks a few seats down from me, and saunters up to the edge of the bar, where I’m standing.
“I like you.” He said with a smile that could light up a room. His piercing green eyes are locked so tightly on to mine I’m already mesmerized.
“Likewise.” I say in a sly, confident voice I’ve just recently found.
“Can I buy you a beer?” He says, almost ironically.
“Of course. But saliva on the side please.” My faint wink does not go unnoticed.
“Deal!” He immediately comes back, with what I’d been drinking, even though I hadn’t mentioned it. Before placing it down he pauses, holding my beer up close to the side of his mouth. And then with the sexiest fucking look I’ve ever seen, he stares directly into my eyes and smirks, while slowly licking up the outside of the glass in a way that is beyond suggestive. I exhale in hot disbelief. As he gets to the top he quickly bites his lip and with a flash of an eyebrow raised he casually takes a sip and sets the glass down in front of me. I am floored.
“Saliva on the side. Just like you asked…. This one’s on me.” His raspy voice now suddenly sultry.
My lips purse together, I can feel myself immediately getting turned on by how forward that was. I suppress any shyness that might have crept into the old me, and step into the new inner vixen goddess that I now possess. “Thanks… when’s it gonna be my turn?”
He locks eyes even harder, clearly having met his match. “Hhmmmm. In about 10 minutes. I just got off.”
“Lucky. I want to get off.” My seductive tone rang in my ears like a nearly unrecognizable part of myself.
“I’m pretty sure we can make that happen.” He says in a low deep seductive tone.
Oh my fucking God. Yes, please. Holy fuck. Is this real life? I am so fucking proud of myself and so thrilled about this unbelievably hot encounter that’s about to get even better.
What the fuck am I doing?
Anything I fucking want to, that’s what!! I feel beyond empowered.
“Wait for me at that back high top by the hallway.” He nods to the corner.
“I’m there.” I say in almost a whisper as he leaves, dragging his hand along my arm, caressing my skin softly as he walks past. Holy fuck that felt amazing. My spine is on fire.
After a few focused minutes of regaining use of my legs, I’m pretty sure I haven’t stopped smiling. I then gather myself up and walk slowly over to the high top by the hallway. It’s next to the pool table and has no stools so I stand behind it and lean on my elbows with my back to the hallway and vaguely watch the game of pool. My mind is going in all the directions, my body is so fucking turned on. The excitement and anticipation is wild! Suddenly I feel hands pressing hard around my outstretched hips and before I have the chance to turn around, his hot breath is at my neck.
“Follow me.” He whispers in my ear and spins me around grabbing my hand firmly. Fuck he has strong hands. Yes please! He takes me down the far end of the hall to an office door, pulling me inside and quickly closing and locking it behind him. The office is small but has a large desk and chair in the middle.
“You are so fucking hot.” He says as he takes two steps closer to me and grabs me by the waist, pulling me firmly against his hard chest.
“How hot?” I ask out of nowhere. Leaving my mouth slightly open clearly inviting him to kiss me.
“So hot I want to get you off right here.” He says in a breathy tone almost losing the edge in his voice.
“Do it. I dare you.” I barely finish the second phrase as he plants his hungry lips on mine. With a flurry of mouths and lips and tongues we get to know each other’s pace very quickly. Neither one of us hesitates. This train is going full steam ahead.
He moves his mouth to my neck and I reflexively crane to the side and exhale a quiet moan. “Oh, I love that sound. Bet I can make you do that louder.” He says as he lightly sinks his teeth into the base of my neck.
“Uuuuuuh!” Another, definitely much louder moan, escapes my lungs before I could stifle it.
“Yea, that’s better. Don’t stop. That’s so fucking hot.” He continues to lick and bite my neck and ear as I begin to hear my voice escalate in pleasure from the insanity of it all. “Can I take off your pants?” He asks as he kneels down in front of me. At this point we’ve somehow moved ourselves to the desk where my ass is pressed against the short end.
“Yes please.” I respond, as he quickly undoes my button and zipper with his hands while his mouth and tongue explore my newly bare skin. “Oh fuck. That feels so good.” He moves his tongue along the lace at the top of my underwear and once my pants hit the floor he grabs my hips firmly, bringing his mouth hard against the inside of my hip just on the underside of my underwear, in an intense hot, wet sensation that’s nearly overwhelming.
“Aaah.” I gasp, my breath almost quaking.
“You asked when it was your turn…” He trails off midthought.
“Uh huh…” My eyes barely focused but looked down in a slight nod at him.
“That would be now.” And at that he presses his mouth firmly over my cloth covered clit and fucking goes to town. Pressing, twisting, wet both on the inside and out. Thumbs prodding my hips.
My knees can barely hold me up. “Holy fuck. Ugh… yes!” At this point, instead of breathing I’m panting now.
Pausing he stands up and says. “Hold on a sec.” Then takes one arm and swipes the random desk items in a flurry onto the floor. “Here. Lay back.” He lifts up my hips to sit me on the desk, and presses a hand gently to the center of my chest suggesting I get comfortable. I slowly recline as he removes my shoes and pants, letting them drop to the floor prior to kneeling again “That’s better. Now, where was I…” He immediately goes back to pressing his tongue firmly on the outside of my incredibly damp underwear. He then slides his thumb along on the underside of the cloth, gently exploring my very wet centerline. Feeling me directly where I’m clearly turned on and beyond ready for whatever is coming next. “Holy fuck. You are so wet. That’s fucking beautiful.” He smiles up at me warmly. Genuinely pleased at how turned on I am.I’m somehow relaxed by this and my hips ease, opening my legs wider while my feet balance on his shoulders. “May I?” He asks suggestively while his thumb questions my entry way and his tongue licks just under my underwear grazing closer to where I want it the most.
“Yes. Fuck yes!” I insist. Please!
He pulls my underwear to the side with one hand and then traces his other thumb up and down along my inner most creases. Painting my moisture along every aspect of my opening so intently, as if he’s frosting a cupcake he’s about to devour. “That’s fucking gorgeous.” He presses his fluttering thumb directly onto my clit as he dives his tongue into my depth.
“Oh fuck. Yes. Uuuuuuh, YES!” I moan a bit louder as he moves both harder and farther. He then relocates his mouth to my peaked desire and licks hard while he takes two fingers to explore inside me deeper. “Aaaaaaagh!” My voice rings out even louder.
“Mmmmhmmm.” He says lifting his head while gently caressing his hands to my hips and sliding my underwear off. “I really love the sound of your pleasure. Lean into that. Your voice is so fucking hot.” He leans back down to continue the task at hand.
Without hesitation I breathe a bit more audibly as he now has full freedom to explore what pleases me most. In response to every lick and thrust my moans are climbing higher, longer, deeper. The sound of my own voice enjoying the shit out of this is such a turn on, even for me! “Uuuuuhhhhuuuuuh!” My rising tone gives way to the increased pleasure. He then encloses his entire mouth over my clit and sucks hard. “Oh fuck! OH YES!!”
He’s escalating his movements with my voice and begins pushing harder and farther inside of me with his fingers, pulling firmly against the backside of my belly. “Ugh! Uuuuuuugh. Fuck yes!” I’m already feeling myself building close to the edge. Now with a combination of licking, sucking and fingers exploring everywhere. I know I’m about to lose it. “Oh fuck. Fuck yes. I’m gonna… oh fuck… oh fuck!” He knows I’m about to come and in a flurry of tongue and hand movements that all blend into one, my whole base fills with electric hot energy just building more and more tension, eager to spill out everywhere. “YES. YES! YEEEEESSSS! I’m gonna come!! Fuck! Oh fuuuuuuck!!” Harder, wetter, faster, deeper, and finally the most tantalizing pulsation, the one before it all ends. My breath now only exists in short hitches.
“I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna… I’m cumin!! HOLY FUCK! Uuuuuugh, uuuuugh UUUUGH” I feel my whole lower body pulsate with an electric energy that flows down my legs and up my spine. Waves of intense pleasure crashing over every cell of my body. I’m taken to a completely different dimension of pleasure and freedom and inner goddess worship. The pulsations last longer than I expected as he seems to be taking pleasure in feeling them from the inside while he continues to caress me internally.
Then finally with a whole body shudder, I’m left in fragments of myself. And suddenly all of the sensations are too much to handle. I retract in a quick jerk and say, “Ok, ok. I can’t. Ok” I’m smiling and nearly laughing at myself as he moves away from my now buzzing center of ecstacy.
“You’re fun! …and delicious” He looks at me with a satisfied smirk that leads me to believe he enjoyed that from his end as well. “Well, my job is done.” He leans over and kisses me openly, and sensually, in a transfer of all that is mine and holy.
Once he pulls away. He lingers just a second, in a slow, almost sweet retreat. He then leans down and hands me back my underwear and pants. As I dress myself in a complete daze, he’s leaning over the desk apparently writing something down. Then barely conscious of anything outside of my post orgasmic body, I hear.
“We should do that again sometime.” He hands me a small note with his number on it. As we walk toward the door I glance down and I notice only digits. It FINALLY dawns on me after all this.
“I don’t even know your name!” I look at him with a mix of genuine disbelief and satisfaction.
“Doesn’t matter.” He kisses me sweetly one last time before he opens the door. “Call me.”
I walk out of the office and down the hall, past my half empty beer that’s still sitting on the high top from what feels like an entire lifetime ago. I’m smiling so wide I can barely contain the astounding feeling that’s currently pouring out of me. I try to contain the giggle that’s boiling inside, which eventually bursts into the air as I finally get out the door. I take one step to the side and lean my back on the cool bricks, clutching his number and my phone to my chest. I laugh with pride at myself as I eventually exhale into reality. Then I immediately type his number into my phone and text, “Thanks for the beer.”
Within seconds I see the reply, “ANYTIME!”
My phone pings me away from my past reverie, bringing me back to present time and space on my balcony. Good god he was so fucking sexy. I look down at my phone again and smile at the text, “I want to devour you!” sent by the contact: Doesn’t Matter. I laugh hard at how fucking amazing that is. It’s gonna be a fun night!