Sensational Heights
I snapped a second radish in half at our lunch table and bit into it. I mulled; the dad Miranda and the mum Michael knew behaved differently from the versions Ruby and I knew of ourselves!
Rhea tapped my arm, "I forgot a glass of wine. Do you want it with the quiche?"
Miranda offered to get the chilled bottle from the fridge.
"No wine, it's flavoursome by itself," I directed at my table of women, "and I can't wait for Phoebe's spin on it."
Alicja and Alina, I'm sure, exchanged a secret hand signal under the table whilst my youngest daughter blushed.
Relishing another delectable mouthful of quiche, my mind cruised to the tacky issue.
Could Michael and Miranda ever comprehend the risqué, open sex Ruby and I shared?
It was 2005 —Ruby and I were now responsible adults.
I recall 1981 —Ruby and I were adults yet irresponsible.
Our impulsive encounter occurred behind the desk at the hostel where Ruby worked. It was turbulent, intense and beyond naughty. Together, we experienced the thrill of public sex during my final week in Paris.
Ruby asked me to meet her at eight p.m. when she finished her stint on hostel duty. I promised to pay for dinner at a nearby café. I arrived twenty minutes early to an empty foyer.
My feet tapped heavily on the dark, worn tiles. Ruby lounged behind the counter, unoccupied, tapping the benchtop. The brunette didn't stop when she saw me.
I ignored the French: Staff Only sign and joked as I joined her on the work side of the broad wooden counter.
"Arrêtez de jouer avec vous-même au travail," I managed in slow, broken French.
"If you don't want me playing with myself, the answer is to play with me," Ruby responded.
She swapped her idle tapping of the counter to unbuttoning her jeans. She wriggled her jeans down to her knees. Only her skimpy black high-cut knickers stood between our pleasure.
Ruby bent over the counter, welcoming my touch. She pulled her panties across her rump and allowed me to finger inside the moist flesh between her legs. While writhing in enjoyment, she still scanned the staircase and doorways. I wondered if she was more alert after the alleyway incident.
The pixie released soft moans in succession.
She unzipped me; my pinned hardness found release. Ruby dropped to her knees, giving head. She pleased me with her whole mouth and throat. Her lips sucked, and the inside of her cheek delivered a sensual tickle. She slid my swollen knob against her hard palette, then nursed my tip sensationally wet onto her deeper softness.
In the vestibule of her oral cavity, her tongue twirled faster than a majorette's baton. Suddenly her saliva sluice lubricated, slick, and then arrow-like, my penis sped to the back of her indulgent throat. My pleasure rose to sensational heights.
I felt relief because the counter hid her. Not for long. She wriggled up and leaned over the counter. Her eyes blazed like her namesake gem dangling from her neck, and her cute nostrils flared.
I ran my index finger down the side of her dainty nose. Too leisurely and lovey-dove for the pixie as her hands reached behind me and her fingernails raked my buttocks, nuzzling my cock into her booty.
Clutching and twisting her black knickers, I stabbed vigorously into her wetness.
Between appreciable moans, Ruby urged me, "Hard, faster."
Ruby's gossamer perfection wrapped my maleness in her femininity. Embracing a frenzied sexual tonic, we climaxed in a hasty surge.
I yanked my pants upwards, and Ruby snuggled her jeans to her hips.
Barely both zipped as three backpackers entered through the hostel door.
Ruby greeted them in French, English, Italian and German.
She was perhaps showing off for me!
The pixie scanned their eyes to catch their glint response to their native tongue.
They replied to her in German.
Ruby possessed more language skills than I realised.
She opened the ledger. They all dropped their packs in a bulky pile. Two of the backpackers started asking, I presume, hostel questions.
I couldn't gauge their height as they leaned on the counter. One sported a trimmed goatee, and his mate a bushy moustache. I lounged against the room key rack behind Ruby. I could see the third one sniffing as he waited behind his mates. A bulky guy with straggly brown hair, he caught the whiff, the lingering scent of heavy, intense sex.
I smelt it, too.
Beads of sweat formed on my forehead; I wiped them away with my palm. I tried to jam my hands in my jeans pockets because I knew my bulge still showed.
Flustered, I jerked my shoulders, and behind me, a cluster of room keys fell from their pegs on the wall.
Before I stooped to collect them, I saw Ruby notice the third guy's nose at work. The brunette gave this traveller a wink. The two mates at the counter stayed heads down, scrutinising a room rate sheet. The dorm rate was cheaper than a room for four, while a room for two doubled the price.
No one turned an eye to me or the keys.
The minx remained efficient and focused, her finger guiding the dudes to pertinent points on a hostel plan, bathrooms, the ground floor laundry and breakfast hours.
Ruby clicked her fingers sharply and gathered the attention of three men. She guided them to a sensible dorm decision with her combination of no-nonsense and sass. She filled the ledger and issued the keys, ignoring me.
She issued them a copy of the hostel house rules pamphlet in German and gave them directions to their dorm. They picked up their backpacks from the cluttered mound on the floor and heaved them to carry.
The dude with the ratty hair glanced down the stairs. As Ruby gave him the wink, he flustered and stumbled to the next step.
Out of view, the backpackers disappeared above the landing, their clomping boots heard a moment longer.
An intense, sexy sweetness hovered around Ruby.
She fluttered her hypnotic lashes and flounced to the staff washroom, instructing, "Pick up the fricking keys."
She added a shimmy as she took our sexual bouquet with her.