RUBY IN PARIS

Memory, Intense Sex

Why does a dry spell remind us of our most intense mated moments?Are our bodies trying to direct us back where we belong, paired? So, like a farmer expecting the big wet after an extended barren season, my mind drifts to a drenched Ruby.

Her apartment bathroom fogged. A combination of balmy shower water and our steamy sex. The 80s; what a great time to be alive and in Paris. My brunette coquette. Petite, five foot two and eyes summer blue. Ruby, all of twenty-three. Our combined hands glided over skin in a soap-filled massage.

The little minx, her college nickname, impish gleeful. Yet her bathroom bared forlorn and glum. Once, like the now run-down apartment block she lived in, this bathroom in its heyday stated 30s elegance. The white porcelain bathtub retained a curvy charm like a familiar plump figure.

High around it ran a rail supporting a green shower curtain. Black lace angelfish covered the plastic, though they swam through mould spots. Despite their lost shine, I fancied the bathroom's tessellated black and white floor tiles.

Each worn dull by unknown damp feet. The matching wall tiles, here and there, hinted at their original, lustrous glaze: the cracked ones, natural wear and tear. The loose and grotty grouted ones were signs of a lack of love. So, too, the chrome towel rail pushed awry to the skirting edge. Dislodged and bent, awaiting the promise of landlord replacement.

Ruby, shrugging unperturbed, stated, "It fell off last year."

Last year, I was not in Paris. My life pursued a different girl a continent away.

Last year lay stashed like lost luggage, and it could turn up in your thoughts or never reappear.

What joined Ruby and me in Paris? The simple overlaid by the complexities of life.

A knock at Ruby's apartment door. Well, the second or third time, I rapped.

My oh my – Ruby's smoulder exuded change since I last saw her three years ago. Before travelling to Paris, her mother informed me, Ruby studied at the Sorbonne and worked casually at a youth hostel.

Her usual immediate confidence dominated as I stared. A pixie haircut softened her face and directed focus to her playful eyes. I pictured her missing signature teenage ponytail; my memory retained it cherubic and high.

She hailed me into her small apartment.

"So, you found this dive okay."

She left me to shut the door.

"Yeah, your mum provided the contact details, as she told you."

"Mmm, you realise I'm accommodating you because she likes you?"

A come-hither gesture followed by a smug half-grin.

I checked Ruby out—a series of fleeting, furtive glances. I convinced myself that her stunning eyelashes were not natural. Each darkened lash, whip-lengthened in their Jezebel allure.

I looked over as she made us coffee in her kitchenette. Her tongue passed deliberately and deftly over her bottom lip. She knew I watched. Ruby played me as I ogled.

"Oh boy, what to do with you," she jibed as she passed me a black coffee, "I suppose I could find you a Parisian girlfriend?"

I wanted to bluff the feisty brunette. However, I lacked recent sexual exploits to draw on, and my head slid to the mug in my hands.

"There is still a hint of puppy eyes about you. You can't help glancing once too often at any attractive girl, but you will have to take a reality check. I'm currently getting more than my fair share of Parisienne pecker."

Ruby never hid her sexual exploits.

The vixen jolted me into the truth of her hospitality as a family onus.

"Oh, don't drown your face in your coffee."

She exposed my shyness; she stirred my habitual hesitation in the company of girls. I glanced at the absolute cutie before focusing on the chunky mug between my clutching hands. My fingertips tapped before I sipped.

She added to the one-way conversation, "Geez, are you worried about the keen sounds of sex? I know the walls are thin in these apartments."

Ruby's eyes sparkled, her perpetual success bedding men. She gulped a mouthful of coffee.

Then she teased, "Bad luck, perv; I get it all in a stunning Seine penthouse."

"It's the haircut," I ventured truthfully, plus her arresting temptation in snug denim.

Modesty and memory of her swishing teenage ponytail that joined whipped verbal backlashes halted my stating the obvious: her booty-shaped divine.

"Yeah, I will agree with you for once. I followed the recommendation of a girlfriend at work."

Her chirpy voice and randy sparkle made me think, girl on girl.

Ruby changed tack fast, as I remembered she could her sabot sail, "Let's organise a place for you to crash."

She set me up for the night on her worn sofa, providing a blanket. The unthinkable flashed, sharing her bed. My pounding heart stated Ruby paraded lush. My mind grounded me that sex needs reciprocation.

The pixie's butt strutted to her bedroom—no brunette backward glance.

"Thanks, Ruby," I muttered, too quiet for her to hear.

In subsequent days, I shared her apartment as a place to sleep. She was absent, working night shifts or on sleepovers, satisfying her man.

After visiting tourist sites, I returned to Ruby's apartment in the late afternoon. I passed the small café close to the apartment block. I peered in, as you do, in a human-interest way.

Ruby slumped unaccompanied, indifferent to the coffee cup before her. She appeared lonely. An emotion never encountered in her as a teenager.

Surely not a break-up?

Yet, her face etched its hallmarks, forlorn, taut withdrawal.

She glanced out, saw me peep at her, and her face embraced her pixie charm. Ruby crooked her finger and invited me inside.

A small wooden table separated us.

I sidled opposite her, my feet tucked under the chair, and I fidgeted, shifting my weight.

Ruby sipped her mocha like a sexually charged potion, sultry, slinky.

Suddenly, she passed the cup to me, inviting me to copy her action—an impossible feat.

The minx batted her alluring lashes, a quick flirty flutter. She beckoned for the cup, and this time, as she sipped mocha, she explored pieces of me through her sea-blue orbs. Her eyes scouted thirstily, and her tongue over her lips let me know my brown eyes and two days of facial growth passed muster.

No touch, yet it generated the most carnally charged moment of my life. The brunette placed me in her life frame. I surmised a determined Ruby hell-bent on rebound flirting.

I entered her; Screw you, Monsieur Paris moment.

Her wealthy man, I supposed, guilt-tripped into drifting home to a wife and children. I could only infer Ruby's response to this new state of affairs.

You'll miss my body. I can screw whenever and whomever.

Then, in an instant, the pace became frenetic. The lightest touch of fingers on the same cup made the sipping a rite of flirting nonsense. The mocha charged by touch. Ruby's face torched seductively. Our contact, whilst incredibly light, trilled raw sexual energy. Craving's impetus left the remnants of mocha to swirl in a cup.

No need for words. No need for control. Our rashest impulses matched. We were skin-to-skin without clothes removed. The compelling option dominated.

We burst out of the café. Rushed along the street. Dashed through the apartment building door. Then up, hand in hand. Up the blurred flights of stairs and plunged into each other's being in her apartment.

Our clothes were scattered behind us as a naked Ruby led me to the bathroom.

What the hell? I thought.

I should have believed in Paradise.

Her eyes flashed seduction, and her voice, her intent.

"Let's make this memorable."

She led me to the bathroom. Ruby and her wet milk chocolate hair forged desire. We were electrified in the tub.

Her hands pressed in sensual circles, lathering my chest. Next, she swashed and laved my balls. Gripping my hardness, she coated its length with frothy, foaming suds. My hands, not as frantic, were glazing her breasts and stiff nipples. I enjoyed smearing soapy mousse on her smooth, shaved mound.

In a forceful instant, Ruby's hands grabbed my buttocks, and we slid together. Our skin slinked, chest to chest. I gripped her butt. Our privates glided cunningly and smooched. Foam wayfared over bodies and decorated toes.

Unexpectedly, we had the awful second where our combined legs went askew, and we slipped around the tub— clutching taps and grabbing each other saved us in a fricking constricted space. Hearts racing led naturally to the sexual tussle; she allowed me to pin her hands behind her back while pashing.

I called a pause as I used the shower jet head and sluiced the foam down the bath hole.

After the suds drained, I pivoted.

Wow, Ruby, the self-indulgent, spellbinding seductress!

The brunette created an unforgettable, edgy prospect. The pixie fanned and pouted her sex.

She posed as I stalled.

Don't make her wait.

I focussed the shower jet precisely as required. I held the spray head at an ideal distance to tease her clit. On, over and around her pussy, the water hit and splashed. She snared the ripples of indulgence. Ruby's thighs trembled; her fingers drummed. Her soft moans rose and gushed as a groan.

She savoured herself until she effused, "My, that was good; it beats doing it yourself."

Again, Ruby amazed me. Her petite frame scrambled up my body. I steadied and bent my thighs. We combined like circus acrobats on the teetering edge.

How could we balance in a tub? Her legs wrapped around my lower back, and her hands joined behind my neck. I found balance within our excitement. I held a tap handle and her buttocks.

We were both out of hands.

How was I going to nail her pussy?

Evolutionary passion forged a robust and sharp impaling. Ruby raised her butt higher. She wriggled and jiggled until her sweet slit poised and hovered, edging my prick tip. Unleashing an unyielding potency, she pierced herself down.

"Oh Fuck!"

"Fuck me!"

Does it matter who exclaimed which or who whooped it first?

Beyond intenseness, grunts and base enthusiasm presided. Deep extended its meaning to unplumbed depths. Ruby got leverage, welding her butt and pussy in sync. My penis operated as a lance; I felt my entire length captured and eager.

Ruby held on tighter; her legs wrapped higher to amp the penetrative grind. I bent my knees, thrusting. The pixie scaled heights of feminine pleasure. My strokes faltered; I feared falling.

Thank you, God, for letting youth believe it is immortal.

Regrouping my endeavour to please, I supported her frame with vigour. I doubled her enjoyment as I went for mine. My hand released her tush. She held herself, enveloped around my body, supported by my pumping.

I rimmed her.

Ruby's head bobbed ecstatic as her 'balloon knot' received attention. She gripped me snugger, and her eyes closed. While her cupid lips formed the perfect O. She yelped bacchanal, high on her, new sweeping orgasm.

The pixie clambered off me as I approached release. Ruby knelt and smeared my erectness across her breasts. I splattered in the bathtub as she jiggled her chest to extend my wavy buzz of delight.

She bounced up and turned on the shower. We dissolved fluidly, locked together on the tub floor under a warm, soothing flow.

"Awesome," she stated or praised.

Ruby, dripping wet, her skin rosy, bloomed nubile innocent, centred on her impish beam. Her eyelashes fluttered irresistibly.

I realised, great too and sported a post-sex male grin.

"Thank you, Ruby."

I emphasised every word, confident and clear.

[ Collated extracts from my novel Pappus and Sonder]