Wolf Like Me - 19. The Aphrodisiacal Properties of Intersectionality and Juxtaposition

Chapter 19 -- The Aphrodisiacal Properties of Intersectionality and Juxtaposition

I greeted Preston with a quick kiss. His mouth wasn’t exactly designed for such short-shrift, but I was already running behind, and if I indulged in the kind of kisses his lips demanded, I’d miss our presentation altogether.

And, so, small peck it was.

Mike and Dr. Collins’ last minute list of all the shit that they’d forgotten to pack up in their rush to be “on time” ran through my head, but I wasn’t so distracted that I missed Preston pressing the back of his hand to his forehead in a melodramatic swoon against the door.

“What are you…?”

He hammed it up instead feigning innocence when caught, fanning himself with his other hand and affecting his best southern drawl and twang. “My stars, sugar, but you sure do clean up nice.”

I looked down at myself. I couldn’t exactly take credit for the burgundy dress shirt, or the black pin-striped slacks, or the cap toe derby shoes. Those were all things Laurel made me buy. But, I did take responsibility for the military tuck keeping my shirt neat, and was rather proud of the effect. My attempts at looking professional, however, stopped at getting my tie to cooperate.

“Glasses today?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “I lost a contact and didn’t have time find my new ones.”

“It looks good.”

“Glad one of us thinks so.” I began searching for the power cord to Dr. Collins’ projector.

“Need my help?”

“No, just need to find this…” I’d already torn the office apart looking for it, and found no sign of it. I was halfway through my second search when Mike shot me a text saying that it had been in his laptop case the whole time. Fucking wasted fifteen minutes that I didn’t really have on that damn cord.

I was already developing a headache.

“This presentation got you that rattled?”

“Mike and Collins have me rattled.” I massaged my temples. “I was doing great on time until Mike called this morning about some shit he forgot to do and begged me to come in early. Now, I’m the one running behind.”

He paused. “I thought the presentation wasn’t until 2.”

“But, that’s in half an hour.”

He cocked his eyebrow. “And where is it?”

“In the next building.”

“Relax, Indie,” he said. “You’re freaking yourself out.” He cupped my face between his hands and rose up on his tip-toes to kiss me until I did as he asked. I gave in, pulling him in close, and swept my tongue past his lips. I was reluctant to let go of the cute little distraction when he pulled back.

“Here,” he said, picking up the ends of the black tie hanging loose around my neck. “Lemme handle that.” Preston’s nimble fingers deftly tied a knot. “Four-in-hand,” he said, referring to the knot. “And good choice on the skinny tie.”

“Thanks,” I said and adjusted the tie, another item Laurel made me buy. I still considered myself lucky; Laurel had picked out nearly everything in her fiance’s wardrobe. I was irked at Mike enough that I’d thought about convincing Laurel that he needed more clothes.

Preston looked at my wrist. “You’re still wearing that thing?”

I glanced down at the Brazilian wood bracelet that had been hidden by my shirt sleeve. Preston had given it to me as a joke really, and I’d only worn it for kicks the first time. The rectangular dark wood beads, each featuring a tiny image of a not-so-attractive Virgin Mary, with little round spacers between looked interesting, even if I did recognize that wearing the bracelet bordered on cultural appropriation.

I fully expected a lecture from Dr. Collins when he noticed it a couple days ago. However, when I handed the bracelet over for his inspection, he started laughing.

“Margaret Mead,” he said. “It’s not la Virgen de Guadalupe. It’s all pictures of Margaret Mead.”

He pulled a copy of Male and Female, Mead’s mid-century comparative study of sex roles, and pointed out her picture on the back. I looked back at the bracelet. Yep, Margaret Mead painted as the Virgin Mary, her veils flowing in all their Georgia O’Keeffe’d glory.

Cultural appropriation AND blasphemy!

I hadn’t taken off the bracelet ever since.

“It’s my good luck charm,” I told Preston. I turned around to start looking for the rest of the shit Mike and Dr. Collins forgot. As I set them on the corner of my desk, Preston neatly packed them into my satchel.

“Are you leaving in your piercings?”

“All of them,” I smirked. “One of the other professors ‘helpfully’ suggested that I take them out.”

“And, you’re leaving them in.” He grinned wickedly. At least he got it. “Why not pull your hair back so your ears will be more visible?”

“Good idea.” I fished a hair elastic out of my satchel and tied up the top half, then patiently waited while he arranged the bits in the front that always fell out to his satisfaction. He eyed me critically for a moment.

“Very nice.”

I thanked him again and gathered the last of the items from the last minute list. While I slipped on my black blazer, I cast a quick look around the room in case I missed anything. “I think I got everything,” I looked at my wristwatch, “with fifteen minutes to spare.” I did up the buttons and dusted myself off before turning back around. “How do I look?”

“Wow…uhm…” Preston’s mouth opened and closed a couple times while his eyes traveled up and down my body. “…Damn…” His honey ale eyes looked downright hungry by the time they made it up to my eyes. “Good enough to eat.” He came over and slipped an arm around me as he pulled out his phone.

“Why are you taking a picture now?” I asked as he aimed it above us.

“’Cause you look hot.”

“Why are you in it?”

“’Cause I also look hot.”

I rested my arm across his shoulders. Preston was well-dressed – sweater, dress shirt, chinos, bow tie (I’m still not sure why finding out that he doesn’t use clip-ons turned me on) – as per usual. I gave my best ironic expression when he told me to smile, and he snapped a couple shots.

“Still want to come watch?” I pulled away and started loading myself up.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Preston said. He grabbed the boxes of printed materials and held them under his arm. “Besides,” he licked his lips, “I have every intention of eating you after this, and I’m not letting you slip away until I do.”

I chuckled a little. I’d been stressed out and tense all morning, but in only fifteen minutes he’d managed to turn my brain to mush. I leaned down and bit his neck above the collar. “Let’s get going.”

Coats on, lights off, door locked, satchel over my shoulder and Preston on my arm. We made our grand entrance, unfashionably late and loaded down with everything Mike should have brought over earlier.

And I didn’t even get mad when I found out that Mike and Dr. Collins had forgotten to tell me two hours ago that our presentation had been pushed back to 3.

~*~*~*~

I looked down at my lap and tried not to cry.

Majoring in English Lit. was the single most idiotic thing I have ever done.

Only two and a half years and I’d already lost my damn mind. I should have majored in biology like every other pre-med. But, no, I had to be a fucking moron and listen to the bullshit coming out of my college advisor’s mouth about how med schools preferred humanities majors. I cursed my damn advisor, and all my guidance counselors, and every godforsaken English teacher for not making me hate the subject, and then threw in every other teacher I had because I was sure they figured into my predicament in some yet to be determined way.

Majoring in English had to be the most colossal mistake ever made in the entire history of mankind.

I’d barely finished my first semester as a junior, but my head was so fucked up that I was popping an almost painful boner over the literary exegesis of a rap song.

And all because I just had to comment on Indie’s music.

His tastes were fairly predictable – samplings from several rock genres, songs that my dad probably listened to when he was at the police academy (and some songs my grandpa listened to when he was at the academy), and a few songs from indie bands that were hella mediocre, but everyone still lost their shit over.

But then, 10 Dolla by M.I.A. comes on (a song so completely not-Indie that I wondered if it had been an accident), which led to a discussion on the artist’s sociopolitical commentary, supported by Indie’s rather astute and insightful interpretation of her lyrics.

Pretty, muscled up gym bunnies who turned out to not have much going upstairs. That was supposed to be my type. I was supposed to be totally hot for guys who reminded me of those beefy cops I'd lusted over as a teen.

Yet, here I was, my briefs practically soaked through, getting hot over some pale, skinny hipster and the big words coming out of his mouth.

Alright, maybe skinny wasn't the right word for Indie. Lean, maybe. Or lithe.

My cock leaked at lithe and I almost whimpered in frustration. Fuck, his body was very lithe and long, and he could last forever it seemed like. Today’s attire only served to make his figure that much more devastating.

And he sat there, within groping distance, engaging me in what had to be the most intelligent conversation I'd ever had with someone who'd previously had their dick in me, and it was all I could do to not beg him to say juxtaposition again.

He went on about how the opening verse and the chorus mirrored the ways in which native languages and non-standard dialects of English hid the plight of sex workers, in stark contrast to the remaining verses, which perpetuated the myth of female sexual empowerment. It really was a fascinating discussion, but I was too locked into a battle of wills against the twitching, leaking member trapped within the confines of my chinos to participate as much as I wanted. And it just felt wrong to feel up him, or adjust my poor dick, whilst talking about the ways economic inequality disproportionately affects women and women of color, even if he was fucking me with his intellect.

I swear, if he says intersectionality one more time, I’m going to jizz in my pants.

I at least let the man get me past the front door before I attacked his mouth.

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “I forgot to turn off nerd-mode.”

“But, I liked nerd-mode,” I said, finally giving in to my overwhelming need to rub myself against his leg. “Your brains are hot.”

And my brains are fried.

He gave another small laugh. “Come on,” he said and pulled me back to his room.

With his bedroom door secure, I found myself drawn into a fiery kiss that belied his icy personality. God, could he wreak havoc with that mouth. I unknotted his tie and began working on his buttons. My tongue trailed down the column of his neck and every bit of newly exposed skin.

I stopped Indie when he began slipping the tie off. “Leave it on.”

He dropped the tie and started pulling off his dress shirt.

“Leave it on,” I repeated.

“So, I'm not allowed to take anything off?”

“You got it.”

“My clothes are that much of a turn on?” He tipped my chin up and captured my lips again.

“Sharp-dressed academic is a good look on you,” I said between kisses.

“I see.”

“You have no idea of the things I wanted to do to you back in your office.”

He kneaded my ass. “I have some idea.”

“Yeah?”

“But, maybe you could tell me instead.”

I thought about the possibilities. Where the hell should I begin? My eyes flicked over to his home office area, a set of furniture as sleek and modern as the rest of his room arranged on a blacker-than-black rug. The desk, a re-purposed dining table, drew my attention.

“How about I show you?” I said and led him by his belt buckle to the plush computer chair in front of the desk. “Sit,” I told him before I hurried to his nightstand for the necessary supplies and hurried back. By the time I was standing between his knees, I was so fed up with my pants that I pulled them off, along with my socks and shoes. I knelt on the floor in front of him. My bow tie and sweater came off next.

My hands ran up his thighs, until my fingers closed over his belt. I quickly pulled that off him and popped open his fly. His cock jumped up to greet me when I gently pulled it out. Indie groaned as I skipped the preliminaries and sucked him as deep into my mouth as I could manage. I bobbed my head in his lap, keeping him on edge between swirling my tongue over the tip and increasing suction as my lips moved down his shaft. I set to work on my buttons, but he stopped me when I started to slip the shirt off my shoulders.

“Leave it on,” Indie panted and I pulled off him just long enough to grin at his little joke.

While I went back to sucking his cock, I let my fingers slip under the waistband of my briefs to wrap around my own dick. Yet another bad decision as I’d been ignoring it for the better part of the afternoon and now I was paying the price. I was quickly reduced to whimpering around my mouthful of Indie as my hips rocked against my hand. He tapped me under my chin and motioned for me to stand back up, pulling off my briefs as soon as I did. Somehow, standing there in just a plain white dress shirt, while he was still mostly dressed, made me quiver.

“On the desk.”

“I thought I was supposed to be showing you,” I said.

“So?” He sat back in the chair, chest framed by his open shirt, hand idly stroking the hard length resting on his stomach. He hadn’t even taken off his shoes, and I whimpered at the sight of my bare feet standing between the polished black leather derbies. “Sit.”

I sat.

And then he told me to spread ‘em.

“How wide?”

“As wide as you can.”

I shrugged. “You asked for it.” His eyebrow arched, but he said nothing as he watched me quickly move everything behind me out of the way. Once I was satisfied, I leaned back on my elbows and made sure I still had his full attention before I drew both legs up and let them slowly fall to either side.

Indie’s gaze traveled the full length of my split.

“You do realize you’ll have to keep your legs like that now,” he said, slipping his fingers under my thighs. His thumbs massaged in tantalizing circles.

“Won’t be too hard.”

“You say that now…” he said and bent his head to suck the skin at the juncture of my thigh. I bit my lip to keep from moaning. His tongue drew little circles along the skin between that juncture and my balls, coaxing one then the other into his mouth, and this time I couldn’t contain the moans. One hand moved from my thigh to hold my dick in place while his lips and tongue traveled up my shaft. I pointed my toes as if that would help me keep my shaking legs spread when Indie’s mouth closed over my head, and, after a few gentle sucks, began the torture in earnest.

I lay back on the desk, prompting Indie to pull my ass closer to the edge. My breathing sped up when I noticed him picking up the small black lube bottle and heard the cap open, only to stop altogether when his slick fingers stroked over my ass. Those fingers, as long and slender as the rest of his body, had intuited all the little spots that made me squirm and had the reach to discover ones deeper than what I could find on my own. The struggle to keep my legs open was difficult enough when it had just been his mouth, but the dexterous fingers he thrust into me obliterated any sense of control.

Yet, he accepted this, guiding my thighs over his shoulders without breaking the rhythm of his hand or mouth. His mouth kept time with his fingers, suckling and thrusting gradually picking up speed as I writhed and whimpered on top of his desk. My body coiled tighter, my lower half growing heavy. He laid his free hand over my belly, as if to hold me down.

“Indie,” I panted, “I’ll cum if you keep doing that.” I felt the tingles caused by his answering moan all the way in my toes, and I understood that this time he had no intention of stopping. I gripped the edge of the table as his mouth and hand worked me faster and harder. My voice rose, getting louder as he pushed me closer to cumming. I screamed his name as he brought me off and swallowed down every bit of evidence. I didn’t bother catching my breath before I sat up and shoved my tongue in his mouth, tasting my cum from his lips.

He flipped up the armrests and scooped me off the table onto his lap, groaning into my mouth when I wrapped my hand around his dick. It had been neglected while he tended to mine and I meant to fix that. I picked up the condom I’d retrieved earlier and rolled it on his cock.

“You don’t have to–”

“But, I want to,” I said. Indie didn’t try to argue any further and instead toed off his shoes and socks then lifted his hips high enough to shove his slacks and boxers down his legs to where he could kick them off while I lubed up his dick. Once satisfied, I lifted my own hips and lined him up. Indie’s head fell back against the headrest as I slowly sank down on him, unable to stifle my own moans as he stretched my ass open.

“Fuck,” he groaned. His hands fisted in my dress shirt as I planted my feet on either side of the chair, and began rolling my ass up and down on his massive dick. I forced myself to ride out the series of aftershocks coursing through my body. Indie watched me through half-lidded eyes, and I hoped that the sight of me cupping my balls and mostly soft cock with one hand, while my other hand gripped the headrest for leverage, or the pathetic little whimpers and moans I made as I rode his cock was more turn-on than turn-off because those were the only things I was capable of. He grabbed my hips and ground my ass on his dick just as a particularly strong aftershock hit and I was further reduced to a twitching mess, unable to do more than whimper feebly against his neck as my hole spasmed around him.

When it became obvious that I was no longer able to do anything more than quiver and pant, he carried me down to the floor and laid me out on the rug. He quickly refreshed lube on his cock, and pushed my legs up and open to dribble some of the cool liquid over my crack. I cried out as he thrust back into me, and, after ensuring that I was okay, proceeded to pound into me. My cock sprung back up, demanding attention. I gripped the shaft and worked it hard and fast, matching Indie’s thrusts. My voice echoed across the room and I reached for my second climax, almost wailing when Indie came as I’d yet to catch it.

“Please don’t stop,” I begged over and over, practically crying in relief when he roughly grabbed my hips and fucked me through his orgasm. My hand sped up and my back arched up off the floor. Indie’s eyes caught mine as my nuts pulled up tight and my ass began to spasm and there…there… “theretheretheretheretherethere!” I exploded, cumming hard as Indie ground his hips into me.

I fell back, weak and dizzy, with Indie slumping down on the floor next to me. I mustered enough energy to snuggle up next to him and ran my hand over his chest. The burgundy dress shirt clung to him, as my dress shirt clung to me, from the sweat cooling on his pale skin. What did I ever see in all those beefy GTL morons? I found the tie still hanging off his neck and twirled it around my fingers while we lay there, a tangle of arms and legs.

“Damn, if I knew this was how it’s going to be,” Indie chuckled, “I’d have dressed up sooner.”

I looked up at him.

“Say juxtaposition again.”

~*~*~*~