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Free Falling at Frank's
© 2003 by G. Gregory



The grits were hot, and the butter began to melt immediately into golden pools on the uneven surface, collecting around the edges of the bowl. Lazy curls of steam from freshly brewed coffee rose upward, blending to form the comfortable aromas of breakfast. Mixed chatter of the usual Frank's Diner conversations provided a backdrop of familiarity that added as much to the flavor of the meal as the food he routinely consumed each morning. He was a creature of habit. In the depths of routine he found stability. When he accidentally made eye contact with her, his stability vanished into the chaos of wanton temptation.

Was it an unintentional glance, or was it an overt flirtation? Either way, he found himself thrust to the edge, that place where your heart skips a beat and your stomach knots up with the sensation that you are being sucked into what would clearly be a very long fall. Even as her eyes quickly averted his, moving back to the man she was with, his heart seemed to be a half beat out of kilter. He loved the new sensations that sprang into this morning's routine, ‘they' being a different sort, triggered by a lust long overdue to be satisfied.

Why did she look at him? Was her glance in his direction as innocent as his? Did her heart skip the same beat? Questions began to arrive rapid-fire, one after the other. He turned his head and gazed out the window, blindly staring into a sea of fellow Atlantan commuters on foot and headed for unknown destinations. He had to choose. He had to either step away from the edge and leave the questions unanswered, or he had to look into the depths of her eyes and take the plunge; step off the edge and search for their truths. Turning back to his breakfast, he pondered his decision. He had to pursue the coincidence that caused their eyes to connect with such an unexplainable intensity. He had no choice.

When he looked back at her, she was back into deep conversation. Dark auburn hair fell across one eye, as she leaned forward. A slender finger coaxed the wayward lock back behind her ear, a wide grin spreading across an incredible mouth. Over the rim of his coffee cup he watched her talking, never missing an instant of her animated dialog. Her lips moved as though they had a life of their own; lips that he'd love to part when she sucked in her breath by the boldness of his touch. He could imagine the muscles straining in her neck as she arched her back, flexing into the warmth of his mouth. From across the diner he could imagine the sound of her breath catching in her throat. He could almost hear the short, choppy puffs of hot air that she exhaled only to freeze for an instant before snatching a gasp that begged him for more.

It felt so good to be free falling into a raging lust. His cock stirred and tingled with its swelling approval over his early morning imaginings. When he next glanced back in her direction, she was looking directly at him; her man was busy digging in his briefcase for something. This time it was more than a momentary glance. She held his gaze. She held his soul. And then she crossed her legs with that pure-sex motion where top leg goes high and bottom leg tucks tightly underneath leaving little doubt what was getting squeezed in the process. He knew exactly what she had just done. He could almost feel the rush with her. Too bad he couldn't grab a handful of his hardening cock and squeeze, returning the posture. Absently, he moistened his lips, still holding her gaze. A hint of a smile flickered at the corners of her mouth sharing a silent, discreet confirmation that she felt it all too.

Her man placed cash on his ticket and arose to slip on his topcoat. She swiveled in her seat to stand, flashing a little thigh and the briefest hint of ecstasy in the shadows of the unseen. Long sculpted legs flexed, as she stood and turned to slip into the coat that her friend held open for her. When his hands lifted it over her shoulders, she turned and kissed him lightly on the lips. Was that a message? Was she signaling that the gig was up?

She never looked back in his direction, breaking his headlong plunge into fantasyland. Without the slightest hint of a warning and with such abrupt finality, she ripped the beauty of their moment together from him.

It was funny how only a second earlier he had both of them naked and writhing on the floor, delicate lace panties torn away, cradling her open thighs in his arms and feasting on her sweetest parts. The intensity of a nonexistent encounter delivered everything he needed to validate that it was real. His tongue traced his lips for the taste that would further confirm what he had been doing for her. He reached up to smooth the hair on the back of his head as though she had been clutching handfuls pulling him urgently into the darkness between her waiting thighs. The sound of her heels on the hard tile floor injected additional images of those long legs wrapped around his shoulders, digging into his back, as he sucked and licked her with a luxuriously slow tongue.

But they were leaving. She was leaving. She was leaving before he could bring her to the frantic crescendo she deserved. How badly he wanted to feel her come in his mouth. He had already imagined the arch in her back at the moment of truth. The only things left to know were how the muscles in her thighs would tense when she released into him, and how strong the pulses would be as she contracted, sucking at his tongue. But it was over. His fall was coming to an end. The bottom rushed up at him.

He never looked up, as she approached his booth on her way to the door. Not a word was spoken. A half step past his seat she paused, standing behind her man while he waited for a crowd around the busy front door to clear. Slowly, he turned his head in an attempt to savor the smell of woman-scent in her wake. There was nothing. If only she had kept walking. Even the smallest of pleasures had been taken from him. Not only had the bottom of his fantasy been found, he had hit so hard he bounced. As he exhaled the remnants of his one-sided lust from his body, the doorway cleared and the line started to move. As she passed, the fingers of her near hand curled in the cotton of his dress shirt, and she dragged her nails slowly along his upper arm.

He broke through what he thought was the bottom of his plunge. He now knew that she knew what was going on in his head. The tension in her touch telegraphed that she was there too. When they walked through the outer door and turned to join the rush of pedestrians, she glanced at him through the adjacent window and winked, sending him on his way to whatever finish their fantasy deserved.

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