Rolling

Strangely enough, the smoker’s area isn’t that full of smoke. The brisk sea breeze brushing past the waist-high wall of painted brick might be partly responsible; but so is the fact that vapor doesn’t hang around like smoke does. Annoyingly, the region of the bar that I usually use as a refuge from too much noise is nearly as loud as inside the pub, thanks to the group of nine young men vaping at the central table. Nearly as annoying is that because they’re all vaping, it’s unlikely one of them will have a cigarette I can bum.

I scan the area for anyone else I can petition for a smoke. I don’t like to have to bum cigarettes, but I didn’t anticipate wanting one. However, it’s a decent way to start up a conversation. A pair of middle-aged—or near enough—women in the corner are on the darts, but I can see by the packet that they’re menthols. I prefer unflavored tobacco. I don’t want to disguise the poison I’m inhaling with even more toxicity, the same reason I don’t like vaping.

A young woman sitting alone by the wall, resting on her elbow and gazing at the moon, catches my eye. She’s smoking rollies, which is mildly problematic because I’m a terrible roller, but at least it’s real. And she’s pretty, which is a bonus. Clad in an unusual color combination of a white linen button-down shirt and red pants that hug her legs but flare at the calf, brown hair like varnished wood swept over one shoulder, I pause to admire her for a second before slowly making my way over. 

“Hey, sorry to bother you, but might I trouble you for a cigarette?”

She exhales and blinks slowly before turning to look me up and down, “Sure.” She slides the pouch towards me. Her fingers are slender but strong, unadorned but for haphazardly applied paint of assorted colours on nails cut sensibly short, as though she painted them out of boredom. 

“So, this is embarrassing, but I’m terrible at rolling,” I grimace. 

She raises an eyebrow, “You want me to roll one for you, too.”

“No, just warning you in case you don’t want to suffer through watching me struggle.”

“Maybe I like watching people struggle.”

“Touché.” I reply with a sly smile, pulling out the filters and placing one in the paper. She just raises an eyebrow again and sips her beer. The tobacco clings together less than usual as I extract it from the pouch and spread it along the paper valley. I shimmy the paper to get the contents into shape, then tuck the dry side underneath ready to roll—this is always the hard part for me, I can never get the paper to tuck into itself tightly enough. I can feel her eyes on me, a smirk creasing the corner of her mouth as she watches me struggle, just like she said. Finally I succeed, lick the wet side, and roll it up. Fatter at the top than the bottom, it looks a bit more like a joint than a cigarette.

She huffs, “I’m disappointed.” I look up to catch her eye. “It wasn’t as bad as I expected.” 

I pull my lighter out of my back pocket and inhale to get the tip to catch, “I like to set low expectations.”

“So you’ve got a lighter but no cigarettes and you roll like it’s a joint. I’m guessing you usually smoke a different substance…”

“Perhaps,” I say, taking a long drag and holding it for a few seconds before exhaling. “Oh, how rude of me, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Phoenix,” I say, extending my hand.

“Interesting name,” she says, cocking an eyebrow. “Nice to meet you Phoenix, I’m Veronica.”

“So, Veronica, what are you doing here?”

“Here, as in, this pub?”

“Sure.”

“I’m here with a friend. Well, friends, I guess, but I only like one of them. I’m out here for a break from the other two.” She takes a drag and blows the smoke out her nostrils. “What about you?”

“Trying to take my mind off something.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m trying to take my mind off it, not talk about it.” She looks a little taken aback. Pretty girls aren’t used to refusal. “Can you help me with that?”

She purses her lips, “I can’t tell if you’re hitting on me…”

“Trust me, I’m not.” It was open to interpretation. “You’re not my type,” I lie.

“Oh, really?” she cocks her head. “Why not?”

I glance at her outfit. “I prefer white pants, red top.”

She huffs in amusement, “And why’s that.”

“Because,” I pause for a sip of whisky, “That way I can see what kind of underwear you have on.”

She blinks in surprise at my forwardness, taking another drag. I’m surprised, too. I didn’t know I had it in me. And I’ve only had a couple of drinks. “Well, now I’m pretty sure you are hitting on me.”

“Okay maybe I am. I lied, you are my type.” I take another drag too, hoping it will slow my heartbeat a tad. When did it get so fast? I finish my whisky, trying to maintain an air of nonchalance. 

“Well, maybe if you get me a drink, ” she says, “I’ll consider continuing this conversation.”

“Deal,” I say, stubbing out my cigarette. “Provided I have another cigarette waiting when I get back.”

She smirks, “Alright then.”

~~~

“Took you long enough,” she says when I arrive back at the table. There’s a perfectly rolled cigarette on my side, hers is tucked behind her ear.

I put on my best winning smile. She smiles back, then extracts her cigarette from its perch and places it between her parted lips. Her lipstick is dark cherry, she purses her lips in a perfect ‘o’ to let out a plume of smoke and I wonder how they’d feel against mine. 

“I got us some water, too,” I say, realizing I might be staring and averting my eyes. We both take a drag, then pick up our drinks in sync. I tilt my glass towards her, eyes on hers, “Here’s to drinking responsibly.”

“Here’s to drinking recklessly,” she replies, gulping down the liquor, grimacing even before she’s tasted it. I laugh and sip mine. After she swallows I see an expression of pleasant surprise on her face. “That went down better than expected.”

We sit in silence for a time, smoking and staring at the sky. Light clouds drift across the night. Though the moon is a semi-circle, the stars are dim from the streetlights. “Is the moon half-full or half-empty?” I ask, seeing where her eyes are focused.

She gives me a bemused look, “Third quarter.” She takes a deep drag and a long exhale. “It’s for letting go.”

“Seems appropriate.”

“You’re getting over someone, aren’t you?”

“Very perceptive.”

“How long ago?”

“Still don’t want to talk about it.”

She bites her lip, keeping herself from pressing me. “You can’t let go if you don’t let yourself feel it.”

“I know. And I will. In my own time.”

“That’s good.”

I take a final drag and put out my cigarette, then down my Scotch. “I feel like getting my feet wet. Care to join me?”

“Sure.”

We both get up and walk out through the barroom. I see a trio of young women on the dance floor looking towards us, her friends. She makes a walking gesture with her hands and motions towards the door with her head. One of the girls nods, giving her a thumbs up and an enthusiastic expression.

As we step out onto the street, I realise how small she is, the top of her head just about level with my chin. I look down at her and catch a whiff of her coconut shampoo. 

“Your hair smells nice,” I say.

“Are you smelling my head?” she quizzes.

“Not actively. You just happen to be at the perfect height for the scent to reach my nose.”

The breeze has died down as the night’s matured, and the air is pleasant, but not warm. We take off our shoes at the beginning of the sandy track leading to the beach. She kicks off her beige sandals easily, I put my foot up on my knee to untie my sneakers, balancing on one leg. I put a hand on her shoulder too, though I don’t really need to; I just want to touch her. She stands strong and holds my arm to lend support.

Barefoot, we trudge through the fine, loose sand out onto the beach. The tide is halfway out and still receding. When the ground starts to firm beneath our feet, she starts skipping towards the waves. I jog to catch up, though not too fast; I’m enjoying the way her lean legs launch her upward gracefully, and the way her long hair floats as she descends. She lets out a laugh, and I find myself smiling like an idiot, too. She stops at the edge of the water to roll up the legs of pants. I stoop to roll up my jeans too. We stand shoulder to shoulder, staring out to sea as the next wave wash over our feet. 

“So who is she,” Vanessa asks.

I sigh, “You’re not gonna give that up, hey? Why do you want to know so bad?”

“Just curious. And I kind of want to know if any man has ever looked so despondent thinking about me.”

“Despondent? Really? I didn’t realize I was so obvious. But any man who’s been with you and is no longer would have to be crazy not to be feeling at least as bad as I was.”

“Was?”

“Yeah, well, it’s pretty easy not to feel so sad when I’m admiring the moon with a beautiful girl.”

“Are you flattering me to avoid the question?”

“No!” I laugh, “I meant that. But it’s silly really. We weren’t even together or anything. She’s a colleague and we flirted and got on well at work, but she started going out with someone else. Guess I was too slow.”

“Well you sure weren’t slow tonight.”

“I didn’t have time to think about it. I just kinda dived in.”

Another wave comes seething, spraying our legs with cold seawater as it breaks around our ankles. When it rushes back out, pulling the sand from under my feet, she takes my hand in a light hold. I glance over at her and find that she’s staring back. In a spontaneous rush I twist my hand in her grip and pull her into me so that we’re face to face, like dancers, my other hand on her waist. I step forward and she steps back. We do a little waltz towards the shore, then I lift my left hand for her to pirouette, first one way, then the other. I step forward and push with my left hand, right supporting her lower back so she can bend backwards as I lean over her, then I bring her back up. 

I’m feeling bold, so I lean in and touch my lips to hers. Her lips are even softer than I imagined, and she kisses me back gently. Nothing intense or intricate, just a simple interlocking of lips. After a few seconds we part, eyes roaming over one another’s features, checking in. My heart beat is even faster now. Having ascertained that we both want this, I bring my left hand up to caress her cheek, then kiss her again. It’s deeper, more passionate this time. I lose myself in the feel of her lips on mine, the coconut scent of her hair mingling with the salty sea breeze. We finally break away, both smiling in that shy way that you do after a first kiss. 

We stand hand in hand looking out to sea for a while, then I feel her grip tighten slightly. I look at her and the corner of her mouth curls playfully, “I kind of want to get in.”

I grin back, “Me too.”

We retrace our steps back to dry sand, then begin to undress. I try to avert my eyes as she unbuttons her shirt, but then I catch her peeking at my torso after I pull my shirt over my head, so I boldly watch her as she removes the garment. I strip my jeans off quickly and drop them in the pile. She shimmies her hips as she pulls the waistband of her pants over her bum. I bite my lip and try not to look, but then give up and stare openly. She wobbles as she tugs the pants off her feet and I catch her hand to steady her. Once they’re off, she gives me a wry grin, “Well, look at that. You got to see what kind of underwear I’m wearing anyway.”

“And a very nice pair they are,” I laugh. They’re high cut, arching up to reveal her shapely hips and ass. Instead of a bra she has on a cotton crop top. She tucks her fingers under the edge, making ready to pull it over her head.

“Are we going the whole way?” she asks.

“Yeah, I didn’t bring a spare pair of jocks. And freeballing in jeans is torture.” 

She swiftly slips out of the top. I look but don’t stare. Her breasts are small and perky, the left nipple has a piercing. She seems quite comfortable having them out.. I can feel a warmth gathering and I will myself not to get hard. Just grow a little bit, but don’t make it weird. Her thumbs are hooked in the waistband of her panties now. “I’d appreciate it if you did look away now,” she says. “I haven’t shaved.”

The apprehension in her voice echoes in my chest; it’s always nerve wracking revealing yourself for the first time, “Of course. But just so you know, I don’t care.”

She smiles shyly. 

“How about we look into each other’s eyes, so we know neither of us are looking,” I suggest.

She nods. We lock eyes, then bow, low and slow, like contestants in a duel, eyes never wavering as we free ourselves of our clothes, the last physical remnants of societal constraint. I can feel my mouth quiver with its own tentative smile. Our faces are so close that if I leaned forward we’d bump foreheads. We step out of our underwear in synchronization, then rectify ourselves, eyes never losing contact. Just the thought of us being naked together is stiffening my cock, and I’m trying to divert my mind, breathing deep. If I get past a semi, there’s no return. I see her eyes flicker downwards for a fraction of a second.

“Hey!” I break into laughter.

“I’m sorry! I just saw it moving and I couldn’t resist.”

I’m fully hard now... “Well you may as well feast your eyes!”

She takes full advantage of my invitation. I feel her eyes running over every inch of my body, occasionally lingering in a certain place: my groin, my abdomen, my chest and shoulders. It feels nice to be admired. I smile with satisfaction when I notice her lips part, tongue tracing her top teeth. Apparently having had enough, she brings her eyes back to mine, a mischievous smirk on her face. “You can check me out too, if you like.”

Of course I’d like. I start from the top. Her arms and shoulders are well toned; despite her diminutive size, I think her relative strength would rival mine. Her small but round breasts sit confidently on her chest, nipples hardened in the still present, though diminished, breeze. She has great posture, standing straight-backed with knees slightly bent, accentuating the flat planes of her stomach. Although she said she hasn’t shaved, I can’t tell by sight in the dim moonlight. My mouth waters at the thought of kissing her between the legs. The mound of her sex is the only part of her body not tanned by the sun, even in the dark I can see the white band of a beach goer’s tan. Her thighs are muscular and her calves shapely. Delicate hands hang by her sides, relaxed and unashamed under my gaze. I meet her eyes again, hoping my adoration of her form is clearly visible in my features.

“Shall we go into the water?” she asks, holding out a hand for me to take.

“Yes, let’s,” I reply, taking the proffered hand.

I let her lead me to begin with, then let her hand slip away and move by her side, our shoulders brushing against one another as the first wave washes over our feet. It’s early autumn, but the water is still warm and I feel no trepidation at being submerged in its glittering expanse. 

We’re nearly waist-deep when the first small breakers assault us. I’ve never swum naked in the ocean before—maybe as a child, but not that I remember—and the water juggles my genitals as it tumbles by. She looks down as the waves passes, “Does that hurt?”

“No, they’re not that sensitive.”

She taps the tip of my cock with her finger, not hard, but enough to make it bounce. “What about that?” 

I’m genuinely startled, but also amused. I try to turn my laughter into a gasp of mock horror. She laughs with abandon. I reach out to lightly flick her nipple, but a wave hits us and I flick her right in the tit. Now it’s her turn to feign disapproval.

“Hey!” she shouts, shoving me with no small amount of force. I could’ve kept my balance, but instead I grab her arm and fall into the water, pulling her with me. We wrestle in the waves for some time, laughing as we toss one another about in the shallows, constantly pummelled by the surf. Eventually I stand up and neutralize her next offensive by grabbing her wrists and pulling her to me, wrapping my arms around her. I gaze down into her eyes, and then we’re kissing with abandon. I slide one hand down to her lower back and she melts into me, crushing my cock between us. 

We break off for breath, and I kiss her cheek, then her neck, opening my mouth to let my teeth lightly scrape her flesh. She hums and tilts her head to the other side as I gradually move my attention around to her throat. My hands flow down to her ass, seizing one cheek each as I groan my desire for her. I kiss my way back up to her ear. She giggles when I bite on the lobe, then I whisper, “Do you want to do this?”

She exhales fully, “Yes. Thank you for asking.”

“I don’t have protection,” I admit.

“I have the bar. Have you had a check-up recently?”

“A while ago, but since the last time I had sex.”

“Ok, well I’m good too.”

“Excellent. Shall we move out of the water?”

“You go first, I want to do the sexy Bond girl exit.”

“Okay,” I grin, wade back to the beach, then turn to watch.

She comes striding out of the surf, flicking her hair back over her head to send an arc of glittering droplets into the night sky. Moonlight gleams off the sheen of water that covers her naked body, making her glow like a goddess. Her hips sway sensually as she strides towards me. Though I can’t see her eyes for the shadows, I know they’re locked on mine. She stops so close to me that I can feel her breath on my chest. I know that if I was to lean towards her, the tip of my erect cock would touch her belly. My breathing quickens when her hand cups my balls, squeezing them slightly. She runs her fingers up the shaft, then draws circles around the head, never taking her eyes off mine. 

Unable to bear it any longer, I wrap my arms around her and pull her towards me. I bend down and kiss her open mouth forcefully, our tongues tangling, fighting to explore the other’s mouth. I pull away for breath and she bites my lip. I gasp, she giggles. I grab an ass cheek in each hand and squeeze, kissing her again. Then I squat, gripping below her ass to pick her up, our mouths never losing contact. The tip of my cock touches the wetness of her pussy. She grinds her hips against me. I get down on my knees, my face between her legs, inhaling the scent of her sex. I extend my tongue to taste the sweetness of her vulva and she moans. My tongue slips inside her, carving through the valley of her vagina up to her clit, which I promptly engulf in my mouth, sucking while I massage it with my tongue. She moans, the sounds of her pleasure turn me on even more.

She tells me to stand and then drops into a squat and licks my shaft, then takes me in her mouth. Her hand snakes between her legs to touch her pussy—there’s something about a woman fingering herself while she gives you head that I just love. She’s not there for long though. “Okay I’ve lost patience sorry; I really just want you in me.”

She turns around and presents her ass to me. I’m too overcome with lust to do anything other than physically acquiesce. She puts a hand between her legs to guide me in and I slowly push my full length inside of her. “Please, please fuck me,” she says, and I’m all too happy to comply. 

I start slowly to get a sense of her rhythm, then up the tempo. The clap of my pelvis against her body is musical. She’s bent at ninety degrees and I’m holding her by the hips until she extends one hand behind her for me to hold. I clasp her forearm and increase the force of my thrusts. Her other hand goes back between her legs to stimulate her clit, and it’s not long before she’s crying out with pleasure. We’re completely oblivious to our surroundings; there could be a crowd watching and we wouldn’t notice. Her cries crescendo and I feel her begin to shake. I don’t stop until she settles back against me, my cock deep inside her, her pussy clenching as she comes. The thrill of bringing a woman to orgasm courses through me, and I very nearly come as well. 

When she stops shaking, she extricates herself from cock, turning to face me. “You didn’t?”

“Nearly. I wasn’t sure if…”

“I don’t care. I’m on the bar, you can fill me up.”

My pit of my stomach clenches at those words, a primal lust even deeper than anything I’ve felt so far comes over me. I seize her and pick her up, lowering her onto my cock with her legs hooked over my elbows. I bounce her up and down, our foreheads pressed together and eyes locked, both panting hard. After only a dozen or so strokes I feel my balls tighten and I erupt inside her. I hold her still until my dick stops pulsing, then I lift her off. I close my eyes and breathe a sigh of release. When I open them again we are nose to nose. I kiss her gently, then let her to the ground. I sag, all that energy expenditure finally catching up to me. 

“You ok?” she asks.

“Yeah. Fantastic. That was just a tad exhausting is all.”

“Soo… you don’t want another round?” she teases, leaning in to kiss me again.

“Christ girl, you’ve got some stamina!”

“Well, you were good. And when it’s good I like to take advantage. You never know when it’s going to come around again.”

“True, true,” I’m still panting. She seems fresh. “I would like another round, but I definitely need a rest first. I wouldn’t mind another cigarette if you’re rolling?”

She smiles and reaches for her tobacco pouch.