The Gift Card

It’s my first time in a lingerie store. I’m with my girlfriend of two years so at least I’m not alone but I can’t pretend being there doesn’t make me anxious. What if someone I know comes in? My heart skips a beat every time the bell above the door jingles. Okay, deep breaths. Sex is normal. It’s not like we’re actually fucking in front of all these people. Deep breaths.

“I know it’s your favorite color but I feel like I’d look like I’m wearing a sexy Adam and Eve costume wearing this green set so… maybe red? How does that sound?”

I love my girlfriend. Only she could make me laugh when I’m on the verge of panic. And I can’t help but agree with her thoughts on the green lingerie. Though I’m not a huge lingerie fan in general. I tend to think the sexiest thing someone can wear is a suit, no matter their gender. I love when the hem hits the shoe so that it almost drags but just barely avoids the ground. I love making someone all flustered when, just a minute ago, they looked so professional and put together. I love the boxy fit, the wide leg, none of that tight, slim fit. Maybe that’s weird but hey. It’s what I like. There’s something about having to use your imagination that just turns me on like nothing else. When I go to clubs with my friends it’s all skin-tight, bodycon, and revealing and while everyone looks fucking amazing, of course, I kind of like the mystery that comes with undressing someone layer by layer by layer. God. I love suits.

Anyways, I’m in a lingerie shop because my girlfriend’s friend got her a gift card for it as a gag gift and we’re not gonna waste that money. I mean, we’re college students. Of course, we’re gonna use every last penny. 

“Oh, look at this one! Don’t you just love the lace and the satin? Very luxurious!” 

I look up from my phone and wow. It is gorgeous. And it would look gorgeous on her. It’s a bright red slip with a small slit on one side and a subtle but stunning lace hem. I’m obsessed with it. The second I see it, I’m turning around.

“One dressing room please!”

She makes me turn around so I’ll be surprised once she has it on. God, it feels like hours. When she finally gives me the okay, I turn around and open my eyes. 

“Holy shit.” My jaw drops open.

“You like?”

“I love!” I give her a glance up and down, full of awe. “I’m so fucking lucky,” I say, reaching out to grab her and pull her into me.

“Hold on one minute,” she says, taking a step back and out of my reach. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

“Oh, I can finish,” I say. She laughs.

“You know I told you no sex in public… let’s go home.”

“Ugh, fine,” I moan. I can’t believe I have to wait. I want her right here, right now. God, I feel drunk, intoxicated by lust. 

Luckily my apartment is only a five-minute walk away so, as she pays, I run to Morton Williams and Duane Reade to grab some roses and champagne. The cheap kinds of course. But still. I’m practically floating as I walk in, spreading petals like breadcrumbs in a trail to her bedroom and sprinkling a few on her bed. My leg is bouncing as I hear the door unlock. 

She walks in looking like royalty and I melt just looking at her. Even all buttoned up in her black wool coat—it is December in New York City after all—she looks like my wet dream. Her curly brown hair falls lightly on her shoulders and I watch attentively as she plucks out the clips she used to pin aside her bangs today. They fall, bouncing up and down and dancing above her eyebrows. She thinks they look messy now that she’s growing them out but I love them, so wild and tender at the same time. I look to the floor where she’s put the bag from the shop.

“Take it out of the bag,” I plead. “I wanna see it on again.”

“Here,” she tosses the bag at me. I rifle through it furiously but, instead of a red slip, I see a pair of jeans and a turtleneck. The exact clothes she was wearing earlier. Which means…

“Oh. my. god.”

As I look up at her, she drops her coat. She’s wearing the slip. I feel a primal urge as I look her up and down and up again. It fits her like a fucking glove. The satin is so smooth over her perfectly round, perky, small breasts and the waistline accentuates her stunning figure. I consider getting down on my knees and thanking some god for giving her to me but my eyes are drawn to her as she waltzes over to the record player and puts on her favorite Adrianne Lenker album.

“Stop fooling around and get your ass over here,” I demand, practically panting at this point. “I need you.” I sound so desperate and pathetic but she does this to me. After what feels like ages, she crosses the room, standing in front of where I’m sitting on her bed.

“What do you need?” She asks, teasing me while tilting my chin up towards her face. I lean in, completely under her spell, craving the sweet taste of her lips. I smell her perfume, bright yet woodsy with a tinge of sweet-smelling iris. I can almost taste the mint she ate with lunch. When our lips finally meet, it feels both like coming home and going somewhere entirely new. Familiar yet exciting. I feel myself getting wet for her already. The littlest thing can make me so aroused when it comes to her. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt. 

As I melt into the kiss, grazing her tongue with mine, I feel her hands on my neck, working to undo buttons. I shrug off my cardigan just before I feel her hand on my chest, pushing me back so I’m laying down on the bed. I scoot up so I’m fully relaxed and she jumps up, straddling me as she unbuttons my blouse, all the while kissing me like her life depends on it. I know mine does.

While I know it wouldn’t matter what I’m wearing, I’m glad I matched my bra and underwear today when she pulls off my shirt and tugs at my pants. I’m wearing a lacy purple thong with a matching bralette and I see her eyes dilate as she takes it all in. 

“God you’re so beautiful,” she says.

“Right back at you,” I respond, breathless.

Kicking off my pants, I flip us over so I’m on top. I grab her wrists and pin her down gently, playfully like I know she likes.

“Hi,” I say, laughing.

“Why hello there,” she says back, sweetly.

I lean back down, resuming our make out but this time it’s dirtier, lustier, heavier. I gather both her wrists in one hand so I have one free to roam her body. The satin feels like the sea under my fingers and her stomach is dropping likes waves with each heavy breath. I push up the slip slightly so it rests on her waist.

“You’re kidding me.” I notice she’s wearing matching underwear, satin with a spot of wetness, a lace trim, and a little bow right at the top–like she’s a present I get to unwrap.

“It came with the slip. Surprise!” she says sheepishly. 

“As beautiful as it is, I think I’d like to see what’s under it now,” I tell her, slipping a finger under the waistband and tugging the underwear down slowly, excruciatingly.

“You’re so cheesy, I don’t know why I like you,” she says, groaning. But she shuts up quickly as I stroke her, slowly at first, finding the spot that makes her twitch with pleasure and then speeding up gradually. 

“Mmm right there,” she moans.

I stay in that spot, massaging her sweetly yet powerfully until I hear her say something faintly.

“What was that, sorry,” I’d been lost in the pleasure of making her feel good and everything else was drowned out.

“I said I want—no—I need your mouth,” she says, barely getting it out between gasps.

“Down here?” I ask, to which she nods fervently in response. “Okay,” I say softly, pushing her slip up over her head and tugging her underwear all the way off. Splayed out and naked in front of me, she’s downright angelic.

I feel my heartbeat quicken as I lower my lips to kiss her cunt. I can feel myself throbbing as I lick her gently, occasionally moving slightly to suck softly on her clit. She tastes like strawberry syrup and sweat and I can’t get enough. 

All of a sudden, she flips us over and pins me down, teasingly drawing circles around my clit. When she finally makes contact, I feel my moan reverberating in my chest. I gasp when she enters me despite how gentle she’s being. At first, she fingers me slowly but, soon, she’s speeding up in small intervals, making the bliss last as long as possible. As good as it all feels, and it feels really fucking amazing, I know that because of the specific cocktail of medications I’m on I won’t be able to have an orgasm tonight. Sometimes I’m glad I’m able to enjoy sex without a clear destination or objective. Sex for pleasure’s sake, sex for intimacy’s sake. I like it a lot. 

When I feel fulfilled and as sated as possible, I assume my previous position—practically on my knees worshiping her body like a shrine. I feel her breath speeding up and know she’s close but I don’t stop, reaching up to cup her breast. As she comes undone in front of me, moaning loudly and unrestrained, I can feel myself throbbing intensely. With her hair stuck to her face in places and a sheen of sweat glistening on her, she looks like she’s made of gold. As I look up and make eye contact with her, I hear Adrianne Lenker’s song “My Angel” enter my favorite verse. 

“Beneath the ledge in the morning mist

She kisses my eyelids and my wrists 

Wake to the bleeding of the blade of thе sun 

Returning to my oxygen 

My angel, my angеl 

My angel, my angel 

My angel, my angel”