7. Seven
Seven
Agatha
I shuffled up to Arnold's front door, my trench coat swaying around me. My pulse hammered in my ears like a drumline gone rogue. Deep breath in, deep breath out. I was doing this. The whole trench-coat-with-nothing-underneath thing screamed confidence, but my stomach twisted into knots. Maybe this was too much. If he was a virgin, like I suspected, he would probably run.
"Here goes nothing," I muttered and rapped my knuckles against the wood.
The door swung open, and there stood Arnold—Adonis of the bookstore aisles, with his sandy hair tousled just right. Tremors crept through his fingers as he brushed a stray lock out of his eyes. We locked gazes, and heat flushed to my cheeks.
"Hey, Angel." His voice cracked a little, endearingly so.
"Hey yourself, Adonis." I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "Nice day, huh?"
"Perfect for... um, you know. Coffee. And stuff." He gestured awkwardly inside.
"Definitely perfect." I stepped past him, our shoulders grazing. Electricity zipped down my spine. This was it. We were really going to do this.
I stepped through the doorway, my heels clicking on the hardwood floor. The room was bathed in a soft glow, shadows dancing along the walls. A jazz tune hummed low from a corner speaker, wrapping around me like a warm blanket.
"Nice place," I said.
"Thanks." Arnold's gaze flitted around as if he was seeing it for the first time, too. "Music's not too much, is it? Did... did you still want to go to the park?"
I'd completely forgotten he wanted to go to the park... "Uh... let's stay here for a bit."
His lips twitched into a smile; then he turned toward the kitchen. "Drink? I've got wine... or something stronger?"
"Wine sounds great." My stomach did a little flip-flop. Alcohol might just smooth out the edges. I've never had wine at 10 am on a Saturday morning, but I've also never fucked a client.
He bobbed his head, fetching two glasses and a bottle. His fingers fumbled at the cork, the pop echoing too loudly in the quiet.
"Sorry, I'm usually not this—" He poured the ruby liquid, spilling a few drops.
"Clumsy?" I teased, trying to lighten things up. Looking into his kitchen, there were pans in the sink, leftover eggs stuck to them. God, this was so weird. Sex in the morning. Wine in the morning. We should have done this at night.
"Exactly." He handed me a glass, our fingers brushing. Sparks, like tiny static shocks, climbed up my hand.
"Cheers to..." I searched for the right words.
"New experiences?" His eyes met mine, a question hanging between us.
"New experiences." I clinked my glass against his, the sound crisp in the charged air.
Sipping the wine, I let the rich flavor settle on my tongue. This should be easy, right? Just rip off the band-aid—or trench coat, in my case.
"Agatha," he began, then paused, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Do you want me to take your coat?"
Sweat broke out on my palms. "Nope... no. That's okay." I took another gulp of wine, hoping it would drown the butterflies, staging a rebellion in my belly.
The couch felt like an island in the ocean of tension between us. I curled my legs beneath me, sipping wine to steady my jittering nerves.
"Nice place you've got," I blurted again, eyes darting around the room—anywhere but at him.
"Thanks." He pulled at a loose thread on a cushion. "I like it cozy."
"Cozy's good." My laugh echoed too loud before I snorted. Just shoot me now.
We both reached for our glasses, hands knocking. Wine sloshed over my fingers.
"Shoot, I'm sorry!" His cheeks flamed red as he grabbed a napkin, dabbing at the spill on my hand.
"Hey, it's fine." I smiled, warming to his concern.
Arnold cleared his throat and glanced at the bookshelf. "You read any of these?"
"Um," I peeked at the titles. "That one about the time-traveling detective."
"Ah, Chronicles of the Clockwork Sleuth ." He perked up. "One of my favorites."
"Mine too." A half-truth; I'd listened to the audiobook version. Which may or may not count as reading, juries still out on that one.
Silence stretched, filled only by the soft hum of the music. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Time to bridge the gap. My hand crept across the couch, fingertips grazing his. His skin was warm, a contrast to my coolness.
"Angel," he said, voice barely above a whisper.
"Adonis." The nicknames felt natural and intimate. I was me, but my phone name made me feel safer, like I could do anything.
His hand turned, fingers intertwining with mine. A squeeze. Reassurance? Affection? Both?
"Your hands are so soft," he murmured, thumb stroking my palm.
"Yours aren't too rough either," I managed, heart hammering.
Our gazes locked, and the world fell silent. The moment hung in the air, precious and fragile.
I leaned in, closing the distance. His breath hitched.
Our lips met a cautious dance. Warmth spread through me, from my lips down to my toes.
His other hand found my cheek, cupping it gently. I melted into the touch, into the kiss.
We pulled away, breathless. His face was bright red, and I noticed my trench coat had opened, exposing my daring outfit underneath. Oops.
I leaned in again, our lips timidly searching for a more confident connection. A clumsy miscalculation and our teeth clashed, and a sharp pain shot through my bottom lip.
"Ouch." A coppery taste filled my mouth.
"Sorry, sorry," Arnold's cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red than the wine he held earlier.
"Part of the adventure, right?" I pressed a finger against my lip, feeling its plump split. Couldn't help but laugh. It broke some tension, at least.
"Let's try that one more time." My voice wobbled between embarrassment and anticipation.
He nodded, his eyes wide behind his glasses that gave him an endearing, scholarly look. We went slower this time, softer. The initial awkwardness melted into a warm urgency. My hands found their way to his hair and curled my fingers in those sandy strands. He responded with a gentle tug at my waist, pulling me closer.
"Ummm... where do you want to...?" I whispered against his lips, a playful smirk dancing on my face.
"Bedroom's this way." His voice hitched as he stood up, offering a hand.
"Lead the way, my God." My nickname for him rolled off my tongue, laced with a tease.
His room had a simplicity about it, books piled high on a desk, a bed neatly made. But now, we were here to unmake it.
"Never done this before... with someone like you." His hands shook as they traced the line of my jaw.
"Like me?" I raised an eyebrow, my heart fluttering with nerves and something else, something thrilling.
"Someone so out of my league." The words stumbled out of his mouth, each syllable heavier than the last.
"Adonis, there are no leagues tonight." I took his face in my hands, willing him to believe it. Using his phone name was a way to help him bolster his confidence; he looked like he was going to hurl.
"Angel, I don't want to disappoint you." His confession hung in the air, raw and honest. "The truth is...
"You're a virgin, aren't you?" My thumbs brushed over his cheekbones, trying to smooth away the worry lines forming there.
His eyes dropped to the floor.
"It's okay, it doesn't bother me."
"Really?" Relief colored his tone, a smile finally breaking through.
"Really." My affirmation was a whisper, a promise.
We fumbled, laughter breaking through as our hands explored new territory. It was messy, imperfect, but real—the thrill of discovery, the ache of longing.
I reached for the shoulders of my trench coat, letting it slide off my shoulders and pool at my feet. The air was cool against my skin, goosebumps rising on my flesh. Arnold’s gaze traced the curve of my body, his blue eyes wide, an adorable mix of awe and terror.
"Wow," he whispered, hands hovering as if he wanted to touch but feared I might break.
"Your turn." My voice was steadier than I felt, a smirk tugging at my lips.
He fumbled with his shirt, buttons slipping through nervous fingers like they had a mind of their own. Finally discarded, it joined my coat on the floor. He dropped his pants after struggling with the button and the zip. He left his socks on. Normal people would think that’s gross, but I don’t mind. I keep mine on, too.
My hands moved to the clasp of my bra, the tiny hook mocking me. It wouldn't budge. A glance up at Arnold showed he noticed, his cheeks flushing a shade rivaling my lingerie's red.
"Let me," he offered fingers even less sure than mine. He twisted the clasp this way and that until one side popped free, the other stubbornly in place. My right breast spilled out, and I couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation. Despite how awkward this was, it was pebbled and risen to a sharp point.
"Halfway there?" I tried to keep the mood light, even as heat crept up my neck.
"Sorry, I'm not very good at this part." His apology came out in a rush, his hand accidentally brushing the exposed skin, eliciting a gasp from us both. "Sorry, oh my God, I'm sorry."
"We're about to have sex, and you're apologizing for touching my boob? That's hilarious." The words were out before I could stop them, another layer of awkward piling on.
We finally managed to free the other cup, the bra joining the growing pile of clothes. His hands were tentative, exploring with a hesitation that sent a different kind of shiver through me. His touch was electric, sparking something deep within as our bodies pressed closer.
"Agatha, I—" Arnold stopped short, his breath hitching.
"Shh, it's okay." I placed a finger over his lips, then replaced it with my own, kissing him softly, trying to steady the tremble I felt in us both.
We stumbled toward the bed, a tangle of limbs and uncertainty. When we fell onto the mattress, our elbows knocked, and our heads bumped. But it was the kind of clumsy that made you want to try again, to get it right.
"Is this— Am I—" Arnold's words broke off as our bodies found a clumsy alignment. I was on my back, and he was leaning over me awkwardly, his hair brushing into my eyes as he strained to see my vaginal opening. His fingers pushed and prodded, sliding around the moisture. He grunted in frustration when he couldn't find my bingo button.
"Take your time." I guided his hands, showing him where I liked to be touched, his eager student eyes soaking in every detail.
"Like this?" His movements were jerky and unpracticed but filled with a desire to please, which made my heart swell. Honestly, it felt nice, but it was a bit like he was DJing my love button.
"Exactly like that." I watched as his knob flailed wildly with his movements. I was wrong. He definitely wasn't large and in charge, but it would do. Eyeing it carefully, it looked about four and a half but wide as a pop can. Licking my lips, an eagerness settled into the apex of my thighs. I wanted that sticky fizz shoved into my cervix and held in there with a plug. I love the feeling of being full of cum. The way it leaked out reminded me of a frosted donut.
His rhythm was all over the place, a wild beat that somehow fit the erratic pounding of my heart. We were off-key, out of step, but it didn't matter. The sincerity in his touch and the wide-eyed wonder in his gaze were everything I hadn't known I'd been craving.
"Fudge sticks, I—" Arnold cut himself off again, his brow furrowed in concentration. This time, he stuck his finger in my purple starfish before pulling it out in shock.
"Adonis," I breathed out, "it's perfect. Just try again."
And it was—the imperfection of it all, the rawness. In that moment, stripped bare in more ways than one, I realized that maybe this was what real intimacy looked like. Messy, genuine, and utterly us. The way he kept trying and his enthusiasm to get it right was endearing.
I bit my lip, holding back a giggle. "You're like a sexy librarian with those moves."
Arnold's hands paused, his cheeks flushed a brilliant shade of red. Then he chuckled, the sound rumbling from his chest, pure and contagious. I joined in, our laughter mingling, silly and warm.
"Guess that makes you the naughty patron," he shot back, playfulness dancing in his eyes.
"Put your penis in me now." I pushed myself upwards as he came down, entering my gash in a slow movement.
"I... I don't want to hurt you."
The sincerity is what made me swallow my giggle. "You won't. I'm wet, we are okay."
He pushed in with a grunt, stilling before I bucked my hips up, encouraging him to move. And move he did, his head knocking into my chin as he eagerly thrust about like a fish out of water.
"Oh, oh God. I'm so sorry. Are you okay?" His eyes were wide as he looked at me.
Yes... and no. I'd bitten my tongue, but in all honesty, I was so horny now, I didn't wanna stop, so I just nodded and swallowed the blood. I motioned for him to continue.
Then it got really wild. "You like that? Do you like it when I ram this pussy? You want me to rearrange your guts?"
I fought back a laugh, "Arnie, I don't need you to be someone you're not. Just... be you. I'm enjoying myself, my sexy hot rod."
He smiled and blushed before the lines between his forehead grew tight. He was about to cum. With a mumbled apology, he pulled out of my warm, slimy hole and painted my skin with his milky offering. I was slightly disappointed he wasn't plugging me with that pop can of his, but I understood.
We collapsed into each other, the tension dissolving into shared amusement. We found comfort in the absurdity of it all.
"Wow, we are really bad at this," I said between chuckles, still feeling his arms around me.
"Speak for yourself," Arnold teased, but there was no bite to it. "Sorry... for all the... stuff."
"My favorite was your thrusting. It was... intense."
The laughter faded, and we lay there, tangled limbs, breathing in unison. His fingers traced circles on my back, light and hesitating. I closed my eyes, letting the sensation wash over me.
"I'm scared," he whispered so softly I almost didn't catch it.
"Me too." My voice sounded small, even to my own ears.
"Scared, I'll mess this up," he continued. "Scared, I won’t be what you need."
"Arnold, look at me." I propped myself up on one elbow, meeting his gaze. "You see me, all of me, not just Angel on the phone. That's more than enough."
He nodded and pulled me close. "And you, seeing me—clumsy, inexperienced—it means everything."
"Let's be scared together then," I suggested, resting my head on his chest and listening to the steady beat of his heart.
"Deal." His breath tickled my hair as he spoke.
In the silence of the room, with the soft hum of the city outside, we lay entwined. The warmth of his skin against mine was a balm, soothing away the fears. In his embrace, I found a strange kind of peace, an acceptance of our imperfect perfection.
I snuggled closer to Arnold, the warmth of his body a solid comfort against the chill creeping through the open window. "You're like a human blanket," I teased, my fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest.
"Only for you, Angelcakes." His voice rumbled with amusement, the cringe-worthy nickname somehow endearing coming from him.
"Angelcakes?" I arched an eyebrow, a laugh bubbling up. "Really stretching the creativity there, Arnie."
He shrugged, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "Best I could do on short notice."
"Guess I can let it slide." My hand settled over his heart, feeling its steady beat. "Just this once."
"Generous." He leaned in, his lips brushing my forehead, lingering longer than necessary.
"Hey, Sodapop..." The words felt natural, a name that was more than just a moniker, born from a connection that had stumbled into existence. "This... us... it's kinda nice, isn't it?"
"Nice is... an understatement." He pulled back slightly, blue eyes searching mine. "It's terrifyingly wonderful."
"Terrifyingly wonderful," I repeated, the phrase hanging between us, filling the room with its truth.
"Never thought I'd be here," he admitted, his hand finding mine, fingers lacing with an ease that spoke of something deeper.
"Me neither." I squeezed his hand, sealing the unspoken pact.
We lay there, the fading light casting shadows that danced across the walls. Time seemed to stretch and bend, moments folding into each other until the sun dipped low, signaling the end of our cocooned reality.
"Looks like the day's making an exit." I nodded toward the window, where streaks of orange and purple painted the sky.
"Seems so." He sighed, a sound filled with reluctance.
"Time flies when you're having fun, right?" I pushed myself up, the cool air hitting my skin, goosebumps rising in protest.
"Or when you're with someone who makes every second count." Arnold sat up, too, the sheets pooling around his waist.
"Sweet talker." I reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead.
"Only the truth." He caught my hand, bringing it to his lips for a soft kiss.
"Guess this is it then." My voice wavered, not ready to break the spell we'd woven around ourselves.
"Only for now." His smile held promises that spoke of future awkwardness, shared laughter, and something real.
"Only for now," I echoed, allowing him to pull me in for one last kiss—gentle, sweet, a whisper of things yet to come. Grabbing my lingerie and trench, I put them on, bending over just enough so he could glimpse the hole he'd mistakenly shoved his finger in. I smiled when I heard him sputter. Standing, I kissed his cheek and walked to the front door.
"See you, Angelcakes." He stood against the frame, the light framing him in a glow that made him look more like a dream than ever.
"See you, Sodapop." I stepped into the evening, the cool breeze wrapping around me.
I closed the door behind me, a soft click sealing the chapter we'd just written. My heart still tap-danced against my ribcage, a rhythm set to the beat of something new, something thrilling.
The evening air was crisp, contrasting the warmth I'd left behind. I wrapped my trench coat tighter around myself, the fabric whispering against my skin, a secret reminder of the bold move I'd made hours before. It paid off in more ways than one.
My mind replayed the scenes—our tangled limbs, the slip and slide of his God rod as he wildly pistoned into my sex cave. How his hands had trembled as they explored, how mine had guided. I'd hardly thought about the cocks at the glory hole since we'd had coffee a week ago.
I bit my lip, a smile tugging at the corners despite the sting from where he'd accidentally head-butted me. Awkward as hell? Absolutely. Endearing? Even more so.
"Never thought I'd find joy in awkward," I muttered under my breath, the night swallowing my words.
Arnold's blue eyes came to mind, wide with amazement and a dash of panic when things didn't go quite as planned. His lanky frame had moved with hesitant eagerness, matching my own uncertainty. I'd never fucked a virgin before.
"New territory for both of us," I mused, chuckling at the double entendre that fit us both—a virgin and a vixen.
I felt happy with each step that took me further from Arnold's doorstep. We'd laid ourselves bare beyond the physical. And found something neither of us had known we were missing.
"Can't wait for chapter two," I said, a promise to the stars above, to the man who'd become more than just a voice on the other end of a phone line.
I kept walking, the echo of that final kiss lingering like the aftertaste of a fine wine—sweet, heady, and utterly intoxicating.