Between the Lines 08 (futa-on-male)

The entrance door of the Green family's estate creaked in the afternoon silence that seemed abnormally loud. Ava's hand firmly rested on Ben's lower back, leading him clearly toward the exit. Her eyes flew over her shoulder toward the garden where Manuel had been tending the roses just minutes earlier. Ben staggered forward, his knees still shaky, his head clouded with the residual fog of what had just happened on her parents' living room couch.

"You should go," Ava whispered, her breath warm against his ear. " Like, right now."

Ben nodded silently while his fingers still battled the buttons on his shirt. Three stayed undone, revealing a patch of damp chest in the cool air. Where his own release had left a damp, cooling stain, the cloth hung to his skin. He was acutely aware of the sticky sensation between his legs, an intimate reminder of Ava's presence that wouldn't fade for hours.

"I will text you later, okay?" Already pinning the door closed between them, Ava muttered. Her blonde hair was just slightly askew, the only sign of their frantic coupling. "Promise"

Ben said, "Yeah, sure," the words hanging in his throat. "Later,"

The door closed with a finality that left him alone on the porch steps drifting in the immaculate silence of the neighborhood. From the shaped oak trees around the round driveway, birds chirped. Three houses down, a sprinkler whirred to life, the soft hiss of water on manicured grass shockingly typical against what had just happened.

Ben tried futilely to straighten his messy hair with his fingers. His glasses slanted toward his nose and he corrected them with shaky hands. The same hands that had held the Green family couch's colorful throw cushions as Ava had positioned herself behind him, her huge schlong leaving little space for interpretation of who was in charge.

His keys dropped from his fingers as he worked to open his car; the metal clattering against the concrete driveway. Ben stooped to get them, wincing as a strange pain coursed through his bottom. He turned back toward the house, a three-car garage and a two-story Tudor with precisely cut hedges. The house of prosperous folks who would be appalled to know what their daughter had done to her coworker of two weeks on their exquisite Italian leather sofa looked just like what it was.

Inside the security of his Honda Civic--that suddenly seemed to scream "ordinary"--Ben grabbed the steering wheel and exhaled gently among the BMWs and Audis dotting this area. His view in the rearview mirror showed big eyes behind his glasses and heated cheeks. He hardly knew who he was.

The engine of the automobile buzzed to life, and Ben turned out of the driveway more quickly than sensibly. As he navigated the winding streets of The Oaks, he watched the Green residence grow smaller in his mirror until it disappeared around a curve. Stone facades, circular driveways, and names like 'Windermere' or 'Oakmont' shone on separate plaques at the mailboxes gave the homes here a similar air of casual richness.

He passed a woman strolling a set of identical bichon frises, her tennis attire utterly white in the afternoon light. She nodded gently, and Ben automatically turned around to wonder what she would think if she knew. If any of them knew. The idea twisted his gut, not totally unpleasant.

Ben lived in an ordinary world, but at the neighborhood exit a big stone archway marked the line separating this pocket of wealth from the rest. Stopped at the stop sign, he watched a gardener's truck arrive with tools rattling in the bed. The man driving looked exhausted; the sun had tanned his skin.

Ben considered for a moment how Manuel had seen him through the Greens' living room's huge picture window. Ben was swallowing Ava's cum, and he knew that should Manuel tell her parents, things may go very wrong for her. He hoped not.

The car behind him honked, jarring Ben back to the present. He waved an apology and raced across the junction, past The Oaks. As Ben turned onto the main road, headed home, the symmetrical trees and immaculate flower beds gave place to strip stores and petrol stations.

His phone stayed quiet on the passenger side, the screen black. Ben resisted the urge to check it while driving, knowing there wouldn't be a message yet. Given their actual knowledge of one another, the intimacy they had experienced felt ridiculous.

The distance separating him from Ava's house seemed significant in some sense, as though Ben were driving from a dream into reality. Unquestionably, though, the bodily sensations he felt were pleasant and puzzling and rather embarrassing all at once. Though his hands were numb on the steering wheel, he felt a warmth in his chest--an uncomfortable heat he knew to be more complex than shame. Something that seemed perilously like hope. But specifically, what was he expecting?

Ben's knuckles white against the steering wheel as he drove home painted the roadway in tones of amber and gold at dusk. Traffic flowed in fits and starts all around him, but he hardly noticed, too caught in the storm of his ideas. Twenty minutes ago, he had left Ava's parents' house, but the memory of her hands holding his hips, her breath hot against his neck as she thrust into him, stayed vivid enough to make his skin prickle with opposing waves of want and discomfort.

His voice sounded alien in the little space as he mumbled to the empty car, "Was that just a thrill for her?" The dashboard clock blazed 6:47 PM. He had been at his desk looking over code just a few hours earlier. He was now driving home, the ghost of her still clearly physically present in the most private manner.

Ben turned on the air conditioner even though chilly evening air was coming in through his half opened window. Pulling him back from the hot recollections threatening to overwhelm his logical thinking, the cold across his skin helped anchor him in reality.

Her mother mentioned Maria, he reminded himself, tapping an anxious rhythm against the steering wheel as he merged onto the freeway exit. Apparently she's into women.

She seemed to be in a committed relationship with someone called Maria. Enough to last a while and for her to check in on her, even though it ended.

Ben's thoughts ran back bits of their meeting in disorganizing sequence. Ava's sure smile as she unbuckled his belt. Her thin arms' amazing strength as she positioned him precisely as asked.

A horn blared, and Ben jumped back to consciousness knowing he had been straying into the next lane. He corrected his steering with a jerk and waved an apologetic hand to the driver he'd cut off.

Ahead the traffic light turned red, stopping his car. A pair strolled hand in hand on the pavement to his right, leaning in the familiar manner of a long-standing marriage. The woman giggled at something her boyfriend said, her head slanted in real delight. Ben watched them while his chest developed a hollow aching. That was what he yearned for--that cozy certainty, that knowledge that tomorrow and next week and next year would still be walking beside hands linked.

"What would Ava even call this?" he asked his rearview mirror reflection. His hair was still tousled, and a small red mark poked above his collar. Not a relationship, surely. They'd hardly known each other for two weeks.

And then there was her calling him a 'faggot'. Though he had not objected, the word had at the time hit him like a physical blow. Though startling, in the moment it had definitely turned him on. In retrospect, though, he was uncomfortable with what it said about him.

Quietly sitting in his car, he considered how Ava was progressively showing her tendency for sexual dominance. He had already wrestled internally with accepting that she had a penis, so her dominant nature seemed like it was all part of the deal. But what advantage was he getting from it? Looking back, he saw he had let her act anyway she liked with him. It was him doing everything she wanted. He had to admit he loved every aspect of her control, even with his misgivings and the inner conflict she set off. He would be happy if love were included into the equation, but he questioned it very strongly. Particularly given her past and the unwelcome lack of the anticipated message.

Whispering, suddenly conscious of how little he knew about himself, "What does that make me?" He had dated women--normal, straightforward relationships that had broken off for ordinary, simple reasons. He had never questioned his inclinations or sexuality. Until Ava had bent him over that exquisite Italian leather couch and shown him a pleasure he had not known existed.

The light changed, and Ben sped forward while still mentally whirling. Assuming she knew, what would his mother say? The thought made him physically cringe. Mom with her church groups and her meticulously kept suburban ordinary look. When his college friend came out, she had been encouraging; but, this was different. This wasn't about who he loved but about what had been done to him. What he was okay with even encouraged.

On the passenger seat, his phone lay silent. Ben looked at it for the fifth time in as many minutes, wildly hoping to see Ava's name show on the screen. Of course, though, there was nothing.

He thought of his best friend since high school and asked, "What would Ryan say?" Ryan wore his football shirts, his string of girlfriends, and his slaps on the back that expressed manhood approbation. His stomach turned with fear as he tried to convey to Ryan what had happened--that Ava had been born different, that she had taken Ben in a way he would never have imagined being taken--in mental terms.

Ben changed the air conditioning once more, raising the fan even though goosebumps were already developing on his arms. Ava's body crushed against his back, her breath on his neck, the surprising incursion that had rapidly changed from discomfort to something else altogether unable of eradicating the recollection of heat.

As his exit approached, Ben checked his phone one last time. The screen stayed black, mirroring the sinking evening outside. Between them, whatever had transpired hung in flux now, unresolved and unacknowledged. He had never considered their relationship. Maybe, though, that relationship meant something quite different to her than it did to him. Perhaps for Ava, who prefers women, he was only a test. A novelty. A buzz enhanced by the possibility of discovery in her parents' house.

"Two weeks," he told himself, announcing his leave. Two weeks was not very significant. Certainly not enough time to be experiencing the deep aching that had crept in his chest, or the constant hope that her name would illuminate his phone. He admitted it felt desperate.

As it typically occurred when the temperature dropped, Ben's apartment door lock stuck somewhat. With deliberate patience, he jiggled the key until the mechanism moved with a known click. Inside, everything just as he had left it that morning: the stack of technical manuals on the coffee table, the one unwashed mug in the otherwise empty sink, the soft hum of his refrigerator breaking through the quiet. The orderliness should have been comforting, but tonight it felt like a museum of a life that no longer quite fit.

Ben dropped his keys in the porcelain bowl near the door; this was a habit he carried out automatically without thinking. His feet brought him automatically to the refrigerator, where his wall calendar hung, fixed by magnets fashioned like programming language logos. His eyes found Friday's date immediately, the box containing his own neat handwriting: "Dinner with Melissa -- 7:30 PM."

Running his finger over the words, he felt the faint marks his pen had left on the page. Melissa Hargrave. Her profile and their first exchanges seemed encouraging even if they hadn't met personally. He had meant to call off the date because of the Ava incident at the Christmas party, but he had forgotten.

Now, standing in his kitchen with the ghost of Ava's touch remaining on his skin, that date felt like a plan created by someone else entirely.

Ben pulled a bottle of beer from the refrigerator; the glass cooled against his palm. Leaning against the counter, he twisted off the cap and drank slowly, looking about his flat. The room mirrored his almost exact personality: meticulous, uncluttered, everything in its proper place. Technical manuals and science fiction literature stacked by height made up the bookshelf. Closed and matched parallel to the edge, his laptop sat squarely on the desk by the window. The single houseplant, a resilient pothos his mother had given him when he moved in, thrived despite his occasional neglect.

Above his couch on the wall hung a framed family picture from his sister's wedding three years ago. His parents stood on either side of him, his mother's hand rested boldly on his shoulder, his father's smile was somewhat stiff but real. They appeared to be a typical middle-class family with conventional attitudes and expectations.

"What would you think of me now?" Ben sipped beer once again, murmuring to their frozen pictures.

Setting the drink down, he reached into his pocket for his phone and headed to the dating app where he had connected with Melissa. Her profile picture featured her at an outdoor event, her slightly curvaceous form enveloped in a Star Wars t-shirt caught mid-laugh. Exactly the kind of woman he would always have believed he ought to wind up--nice, witty, sharing his hobbies, simple.

His thumb hung over her profile, his face lit in the dimly lit flat by the illumination of the screen. His sister asked about Mom's birthday present, his friend Ryan suggested they catch the game this weekend, and after a moment's hesitation he turned to his text messages, reading through previous exchanges. Without Ava.

He went back to the kitchen, sipping his beer in many long gulleys. The calendar turned back at him, Melissa's name reminding him of the road he had anticipated to travel. The conventional path. The straightforward road. But the thought of sitting across from her making small talk about favorite movies while pretending this afternoon had never happened, felt suddenly impossible.

Ben went to the bathroom, flipping on the light and facing his mirror reflection. He looked exactly--same rectangular spectacles, same slightly messy dark hair, same slender figure in a now-rumpled button-down shirt. But something in his eyes had shifted, as though Ava had rewired something fundamental inside him on those hysterical minutes on her parents' couch.

With his fingers delicate and precise, he began unbuttoning his shirt--the same shirt Ava had half unbuttoned hours earlier. He could see the small red lines where her hands had seized his hips, transient mementos of their meeting as the fabric split. With great awareness of the residual sensation between his legs, he changed his weight and felt the sticky ghost of Ava's release still slinking from him.

Their close meeting had raw evidence that was both thrilling and rather embarrassing. He had given himself totally to the unexpected thrill, to Ava's firm direction, and to the sensations he had never experienced before that instant. He felt the undeniable thrill of her power as she fucked him in the ass, her movements deliberate and unyielding. The taboo nature of their union was electrifying, and he reveled in the discovery of pleasure in this uncharted territory. The encounter left him gasping and yearning more, driven by the domination and unbridled satisfaction that had unlocked a fresh side of his needs.

But enjoyment wasn't enough, not for him. Not if this was only some experiment for Ava, a delight enhanced by the risk of discovery, a novelty that would fade once the newness did. He was on that dating app for a reason. He yearned for a closer connection. Something that could lead to a lasting relationship. He refused to be content to be someone's boy-toy.

He replied to his mirror, "We need to talk," his voice stiffer than he intended. "About what this means. About what she wants."

Because despite knowing her for only two weeks, despite the confusion and slight shame that colored his memories of their encounter, Ben couldn't deny the connection he felt with Ava. It was more than just physical attraction--though that was clearly present--but something in the way she gazed at him while he talked, as though she were really listening. Something in her smile as she saw him across the office.

Ben turned on the shower; the pipes groaned just momentarily before water started to run. Tomorrow, he decided as steam began to fill the small bathroom. He would figure out a private conversation with Ava tomorrow. To find out from her what this meant. To explain to her that although he didn't regret what had happened, he had to know where it would lead--or whether it would lead anywhere at all.

Ben understood with surprising clarity that he couldn't pretend this afternoon hadn't changed something fundamental as he went under the hot spray, allowing the water wash away the physical traces of sex. Ava Green had, for better or worse, upset the careful balance of his existence, and there was no way hot water could clean that reality.

-----

Since awakening at five AM, he had been looking for messages from Ava every twenty minutes, and each time he discovered nothing waiting for him he felt a fresh wave of disappointment. Every peek at his phone served as a reminder of his obsession as his memories of yesterday's encounter played embarrassingly clear in his head.

The coffee in his mug had gone cold, untouched as he'd refreshed his messages again and again. None at all. Not even a lazy "feeling better" or "talk later." The quiet felt deliberate, a statement about what had happened between them--or worse, what it hadn't meant to her.

"Maybe she's embarrassed," he said to himself, although even as the words came out his mouth he knew they weren't accurate. Ava didn't seem capable of embarrassment. She penetrated him with a certainty that made his breath catch even now, remembering it, and she would have been so confident, so controlling as she placed him on that pricey couch.

The drive to work offered little distraction from his churning thoughts. Traffic flowed in its normal stop-and-go pattern while his fellow commuters typed on phones mounted to their dashboards or stared blankly ahead. Ben's fingers yearned to grab for his own phone, to write a casual but tempting note to Ava, something that may encourage her to reply.

Hands clenching on the steering wheel, he reminded himself, "You'd be messaging her first." His desperation was becoming old to him.

An itch. The clinical term made him grimace, downplaying what had been the most powerful sexual encounter of his life. The memory flooded back with physical intensity; the pressure of Ava inside him, the strange fullness that had changed rapidly from discomfort to pleasure so great it almost seemed spiritual. It had been his first time being penetrated that way, a revelation he couldn't have anticipated.

And God help him, he'd loved it.

Desperate and hungry, his face flushed in the solitude of his car as he remembered the gasps he had produced when she struck that point inside him he hadn't known existed. How he'd begged her not to stop, his dignity forgotten in the overwhelming rush of sensation.

Ben knew the light had turned green as a horn screamed behind him. He accelerated through the intersection, forcing his mind away from the memory of yesterday's pleasure and back to the present dilemma.

On Friday he was seeing Melissa. Sweet, simple Melissa laughed sincerely and wore Star Wars t-shirts.

Should he cancel? It seemed unfair to Melissa to go through with it when his thoughts were so consumed by someone else. But there was no guarantee that Ava wanted anything beyond their physical encounters. In fact, everything pointed to the opposite conclusion.

He parked in the company parking and the uncertainty bit him. Ava might be mind-blowingly great in bed, beautiful, clever, but was she relationship material? Did she really aspire to be? Their relationship so far was based mostly on Ava's apparent desire for semi-public sex--first in the locker room, then on her parents' couch where they had been caught by the gardener. For something real, what sort of basis was that?

When he entered the office, it was already buzzing with activity and he nodded to known faces on his approach to his desk. His eyes followed Ava's desk automatically and discovered it empty, her computer black. Still out sick, then.

A coffee cup materialized at the edge of his desk as he was preparing his laptop, then Michael's slender figure folded into the guest chair.

"Thought you might need this," Michael said, pushing the cup closer. "You look like death warmed over, man."

Ben murmured, "Thanks," then sipped the hot beverage gratefully. He turned to his computer and rapidly closed the chat window using Ava's profile picture--which he had automatically opened upon log-on.

Michael's eyebrows raised a little, a knowing smile playing at the margins of his mouth. "Looking for our absent colleague? Any word on when she'll be back?"

"No idea," Ben said, too fast. " Why would I know?"

"Whoa, defensive much??" Michael laughed, leaning back in the chair. "You don't need to be so protective about liking her, man. Just chill out."

Ben avoided Michael's knowing glance by concentrating on precisely orienting his notebook with the edge of his desk. "I am not acting defensively here. I simply have no idea when she might return."

" Indeed, whatever you say." Michael shrugged and nonchalantly commented, "That dress she wore was truly amazing, huh? Quite revealing."

Ben's gut turned over with an unplanned panic. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it's just-." Michael hesitated, slanted his head to examine Ben's face. "It displayed more than the other women were sporting."

Ben's face started to lose color. What exactly did Michael mean? Did he know about Ava's dick? Was it common knowledge around the office? Or was Michael merely acting Michael, making provocative comments devoid of any real meaning?

"Speaking of work," Ben said, gently turning the topic with the weight of a goods train, "did you finish the database conversion Richard asked? He said he needed an update for the morning conference."

Michael stared for a little longer, something like disappointment passing over his face, then nodded and stood. " Indeed, it is finished. I'll forward the docs to you."

As Michael walked away, Ben exhaled a breath he had not realized he was holding. He drank his coffee, which had lately become bitter even with the cream and sugar. The day before him was empty of Ava but bursting with questions he couldn't answer about her, himself, and what he was getting into.

The morning felt endless. Ben fixed his gaze on his display, the lines of code blurring together as his mind kept returning often to his phone, which stayed steadfastly silent. By lunchtime, he had drafted and deleted six messages toAvabut they all seemed either too casual or needy. Every time a notification sound came fromanyplacein the workplace, the cursor on his screen pulsed consistently, a digital heartbeat more dependable than his own.

Though his mind returned to the memories of Ava's hands holding his hips, her breath hot against his neck, he pushed himself to concentrate on troubleshooting the authentication module. The degree of the encounter made his usual coding job appear shockingly ordinary by comparison. Given what they had communicated, how was he meant to be concerned about grammar mistakes?

His phone buzzed on the desk, and Ben sprung with embarrassed excitement for it. When he saw Melissa's name rather than Ava's, surprise flooded him.

"Hey," Melissa had written. "Any chance we may shift our date to tonight rather than Friday? Although I would really want to bake both, my friend is throwing a last-minute birthday celebration. Completely understand if not!"

Ben read the note, finding comfort in the simplicity of the conversation. Not complicated power relations, not earth-shattering disclosures about his sexuality, just a simple ask from someone who seemed really kind.

"Tonight works," he said following some thought. Apart from waiting for a text that might never arrive, what else did he have to do? Sit at home?

"How about Vittorio's? It's close to my work. Around seven?"

Her reply came fast, a happy affirmative followed by a smiling emoji. Ben put his phone down and felt something like resignation cover over him. Perhaps this was what was best. Melissa stood for the kind of simple connection he had always imagined he wanted. The safe choice. The normal choice.

He was almost through his sandwich when the corporate message app pinged. Ben almost coughed in his hurry to click on the notice showing Ava's name.

"Hey, apologies for the radio silence. I realized that I don't even have your phone number. Been wanting to text but couldn't!"

Ben blinked at the message, guilt and relief flowing over him equally. He had been judging her for not reaching out, making snap decisions, and all morning he hadn't even considered that they hadn't shared personal numbers. Assuming the worst of her made him feel ashamed.

"No worries," he texted back, fingers erratic with newfound enthusiasm. "I didn't think of that either."

He hesitated what to say next, the cursor blinking for several seconds. Should he mention their encounter? Mention the date he just scheduled with Melissa? Another Ava message showed up before he could decide.

"Your number, then? Unless you prefer to keep things strictly professional, of course." His gut started to flutter with the winking emoji that followed.

Ben wrote his number without thinking twice, sending before he could overanalyze it. The comfortable knot of doubt tightened in his chest. What about Melissa? Their date was only hours away. But the thought of ignoring this connection with Ava felt impossible now that she'd finally reached out.

"Yesterday was amazing," Ava said, " Especially the thrill when Manuel caught us. Wasn't it hot?"

Ben looked around the office, his face flushed hot, then became instantly suspicious that someone might be reading over his shoulder. Typing fast, he wrote, "Let's not talk about that at work."

A thumbs-up emoji showed up right away, then quiet. Ben momentarily felt he had upset her, but then his personal phone chimed with a text from an unidentified number.

"Better? I can now tell you how hot it was when Manuel watched you swallow my load. That poor man quit this morning. We were, perhaps, too much for him! Parents still unaware though."

Ben nearly dropped his phone. Manuel had resigned? The knowledge that their actions had cost someone their employment washed over him in guilt. Underneath though, he felt an unwelcome surge as he remembered the gardener's startled look and the way Ava had kept pulsing in his mouth despite--or maybe because of--discovery.

"We cannot do that again," he texted back. "Too dangerous. What if it had been your parents' walking in?"

Ava answered right away, "God, you're such a prude. That's half the delight - the risk of being caught."

Ben gave his phone a frown. Are they essentially incompatible? He yearned for consistency, connection, a relationship fit for the daily grind. Was the foundation of their relationship these forbidden meetings?

"We need to talk about this, face-to--face," he typed.

This time the response took more time. "Sure, we're free to chat. When I am feeling better. Anticipating seeing you tomorrow, I hope. ????".

Her answer's laid-back attitude left him wondering about direction. Was she actually open to talking about their relationship or discounting his worries? The kiss emoji showed curiosity beyond mere physical fulfillment, but the briefness of her message offered scant actual understanding of her intentions.

Ben put down his phone and frustratedly ran a hand through his hair. Every conversation he had with Ava perplexed him more than it had before. Unquestionably, he was drawn to her--not only for her figure with its intriguing paradoxes but also for her confidence, humor, intelligence. Still, he wasn't sure whether she considered him a possible mate or just a handy playmate.

And now Melissa was waiting for him at Vittorio's in just a few hours. sweet, simple Melissa. Shouldn't he at least investigate that possibility before delving further into this tumultuous thing Ava was experiencing?

Arguing that going on the date with Melissa was the reasonable choice, his practical side of his brain--the one that kept his code painstakingly maintained and arranged his sock drawer by color--said It was only a first date, really, scarcely a commitment. He could see her, have a nice evening of normal conversation, and still have his meeting with Ava tomorrow.

Tucking his phone into his pocket, he mumbled to himself, "One step at a time." He would go on the date, make it light and friendly, and settle things with Ava later. It was the sensible line of action. the seasoned method.

Why, therefore, did it seem so much like hedging his bets?

Ben's thumb hung over Ava's message, his forehead wrinkled under the blue light of his phone screen. For over ten minutes now, he had been staring at those happy words--"Look forward to seeing you tomorrow"--composing and discounting possible responses in his brain. Nothing seemed proper. Everything was either too casual, hiding his true emotions behind a front of pretended indifference, or too eager, exposing the depths of his infatuation. How had chatting to a woman gotten so difficult? The answer, of course, lay in the events of yesterday afternoon, in the way Ava had claimed him so completely that he could still feel the ghost of her presence inside him, a phantom sensation that made him shift uncomfortably in his chair.

Setting the phone face-down on his desk, he massaged his eyes under his glasses. The reasoning side of his brain, which controlled orderly living quarters and clean code, pushed him toward something traditional. A relationship based on mutual respect, well defined criteria, shared values. The kind of relationship his parents had, whereby important choices were addressed over dinner and disputes were settled by cool-headed communication.

Then there was Ava, with her brilliant smile and risk-loving taste. Her glancing at him across the office with those knowing eyes. Her dominance over his body yesterday woke feelings he had never felt before. Her amazing prick--there was truly no other word for it--filled him so totally that he momentarily forgot his own name.

Was he able to have both? The mind-boggling physical link and the steady, loving relationship? Or were those things fundamentally at odds with each other?

More significantly, though, what did Ava want? Her communications caused him whiplash--intense one moment, then laid back. While Ben found himself yearning something more, something that might exist outside of snatched events and covert trysts, she appeared to savor the bold, public aspect of their meetings.

Ben grumbled and went back to work on his code, pushing ideas of both women to the rear of his consciousness. The authentication module wouldn't debug itself, and burying himself in the neat logic of code was better than the messy feelings whirling through his mind.

He was so focused on his task that he jumped at his phone alarm ring. 6:00 PM already. If he were going to see Melissa at 7:00, he had to go now. Where had the afternoon gone?

"Heading out?"

Ben turned to see Michael slumped against his cubicle wall, arms crossed over his chest and clearly working late as well. "Yeah, I have plans."

"Hot date?" Although Michael's voice was lighthearted, his demeanor seemed forced.

"As a matter of fact, yes," Ben said, maybe more deliberately loading his laptop into his bag than the work demanded.

Michael arched an eyebrow, his smile acquiring a knowing aspect that made Ben's skin prickly with annoyance. "Anyone I know?"

"I doubt it. Her name's Melissa. We matched on a dating app."

"A dating application? Expanding a net, ay?" Michael's laugh grated on Ben's already frazzled nerves.

Ben zipped his backpack harder than required. "We seem compatible."

Michael's smile wavered slightly, his countenance changing to something Ben could not quite define. Disappointment? "So not Ava, then?"

Ben's system was shocked by the direct mention of her name, much as if he had touched a live wire. "What? No. Why would you--"?"

"Just asking." Michael shrugged, but his carefree attitude seemed purposefully created today. "Thought you two had a thing."

Ben said sharply, "We work together," throwing his bag over his shoulder. "That is all."

Michael's look was too sharp, too knowing. "If you say so."

"I do say so," said Ben passed him, the impulse to get away from the conversation suddenly strong. " Have a great night, Michael."

Michael sensed Michael's gaze on his back as he turned away, a tingling of awareness trailing across to the elevator. What did Michael know? Having seen what had he seen? Ben's palms started to sweat as the paranoia that had been simmering since their previous chat erupted once more and he punched the lobby button.

Ben strolled the six streets to Vittorio's under clear early evening air. He had chosen to leave his car in the office parking garage; a glass of wine with dinner would be great, and the walk would allow him time to relax before seeing Melissa. His head would be clear.

The restaurant emerged, its brick front soft in the glow of string lights crisscrossing the outside seating area. Ben found Melissa right away standing at the door in a navy outfit that accentuated her curves. Her hair was pulled back in a basic ponytail, and she wore little makeup; her innate beauty was not distorted by artistry. She looked just like her profile images--no dishonesty or filters. The integrity of it was refreshing.

"Ben!" she yelled, waving as she saw him approach. "I worried I had the wrong place for a minute."

"I really am sorry for keeping you waiting." Melissa's warm smile wrinkled the corners of her eyes. It was a nice smile, the sort meant to inspire confidence.

"Not at all a problem. I just got here myself." She gestured toward the gateway. "Shall we?" 

The hostess showed them to a small, pleasant table at the rear free from crowding. Melissa sat across from him, her gestures slow and deliberate. Ben found her to be quite straightforward, which was pleasant given the emotional rollercoaster he was riding with Ava.

"So," Melissa asked following their purchase of drinks, "you're a software developer? What kinds of projects do you do?"

The questions were simple, direct, and asked with real interest. As Ben detailed his most recent work, the words came naturally and he started to relax. Melissa listened carefully and asked follow-up questions showing a complete awareness of the technical issues he discussed.

She said, "That actually sounds fascinating," with obvious seriousness. "With all the data breaches we keep hearing about, especially, I have always been fascinated in how authentication systems operate."

"What about you?" As Ben gulped some water, he inquired. "You said you work in accounting?"

Melissa nodded and started an unexpectedly fascinating account of her work in the financial division of a digital business. Her hands moved energetically as she spoke, clearly expressing her enthusiasm for her work and interspersed with elegant motions.

Ben found himself really enjoying the chat. Their conversation came effortlessly and without any study of subtext or hidden meaning that can cause tension. Melissa was what she looked to be: intelligent, kind, and interested in the the world around her.

His phone buzzed on the table between them, and the screen flashed with a notification. Above a preview showing just "Thinking of you..." Ava's name showed, followed by an eggplant emoji.

Ben's body was shocked by seeing her name, which set out a gut reaction raising his heart rate. He tried to ignore it, focused on Melissa's words as she spoke of a challenging job she had completed lately. But his eyes kept returning to the phone, pulled by a magnetic force he seemed unable to overlook.

"So I ended up having to rebuild the entire spreadsheet from scratch," Melissa said, pointing patterns in the air to support her argument.

Ben responded, hoping his words made sense in context, "That sounds incredibly frustrating." Ava's message had diverted him, so he couldn't recollect what she had said.

Again, his phone vibrated. Ava sent another text.

He grabbed for the device almost automatically. "Sorry," he whispered softly to Melissa, who stopped mid-sentence. "I just need to check this quickly. It might be work related."

He knew the behavior was rude. To check his phone while Melissa was speaking, he was blatantly impolite. But his fingers swiped to unlock the screen driven by something stronger than politeness.

His screen showed the picture right away, without room for interpretation. Ava had sent a selfie, not of her face, but of her erect penis, massive and unambiguous, with the remark "Missing this yet?" beneath it.

Ben's jaw dropped open, and he inhaled loudly enough to be heard above the restaurant's din. His eyes opened under his specs, concentrating on the clear image that took front stage on his screen. Heat surged over his face, equal parts mortification and unwelcome thrill.

Melissa took in his stare and her comments faded over the table. " Benjamin? All good?"

Suddenly the phone felt radioactive in his hands, and the screen displayed Ava's beast with terrible clarity. Nearly toppling his water glass in the process, he fumbled to lay it face down on the table. Hard to eliminate, the vision burned in his retinas like the afterimage of the sun.

"Sorry, just... work," he said, lips dry. "They are running across some problems with the authentication module I have been developing."

Melissa's face softened with knowledge, yet a sliver of doubt still gleamed in her eyes. "On a Wednesday night! "That sounds like a demanding place."

"The servers don't care what day it is," Ben replied, attempting a laugh that sounded hollow even to his own ears. Trying to clear his throat of the lump, he drank his water. "Sorry about that. You were mentioning rebuilding a spreadsheet?"

"Oh, right." Melissa started her story once more, her hands moving elegantly as she detailed the accounting catastrophe she had rescued last month.

Ben nodded at suitable intervals, trying deliberately to pay her remarks top attention. But his thoughts kept circling back to Ava's message like debris caught in a whirlpool.

"And that's when I found the formula error causing everything to go off," Melissa said, sipping her wine gently. "Sorry, I'm raving about spreadsheets. Not exactly engaging dinner talk."

Ben persisted, "No, it's interesting," shocked to discover he meant it. Melissa's pure excitement for her profession and her unreserved approach to problem-solving had something refreshing about them. Just real interest in her area; no hidden meanings or power plays. "I enjoy your methodical approach to challenges. It reminds me of debugging code."

Melissa's smile was gentle, illuminating her face in a way that caused Ben to momentarily overlook his phone laying face-down between them. "That's exactly it! Although everyone believes accounting is only numbers, it is actually about seeing trends and addressing problems."

Their entrees came, divinely smelling steaming pasta dishes. From work to movies (they loved science fiction), to books (she was presently reading the same fantasy series he had completed last month), the conversation organically progressed while they ate. Ben's eyes would stray occasionally to his phone, but he fought the need to check for further texts.

Though his hands were chilly around his fork, he felt a warmth in his chest--an uncomfortable heat he knew to be remorse. Here he was, savoring a nice supper with a smart, clever woman who appeared really interested in him, while another woman's clear picture persisted in his head. That made him what kind of person?

"Earth to Ben," Melissa waved a joking hand. "You sailed off there for a second."

"Sorry," he said, setting down his fork. "just thinking about that work issue."

Her manner became empathetic. "must be a major issue if it is causing this much distraction. Do you need to call someone?"

Ben felt a new wave of shame flood over him at the very thoughtful offer. "No, that is not really pressing. Just terrible timing." He tried a smile that came more like a grimace. "I'm having a pretty great time with you."

Melissa said, "Me too," slightly reddening her cheeks. "This is definitely better than most first dates I've been on. Usually, I'm timing the minutes until I can get away."

They laughed, and Ben felt the weight of his contradictory emotions momentarily lighten. For each of them, dessert arrived and disappeared along with another glass of wine. Ben had almost completely pushed ideas of Ava to the back of his mind by the time the cheque arrived.

The nighttime air has chilled rather significantly outside the restaurant. Melissa drew her light jacket tightly about her shoulders, the chill causing tiny clouds from her breath.

"I'm parked just around the corner," she responded, pointing down the street. "This was quite good, Ben. I'd like to do it again sometime."

Ben heard himself remark, "I would too," and realized with minor astonishment he meant it. He had really loved Melissa's company despite the interruption and his conflicting emotions for Ava. She was everything he had always imagined he wanted: smart, gentle, straightforward. The sensible choice.

He paused then slanted in for a friendly hug. Though the brief interaction was kind and pleasant, it did not deliver the kind of electrical pulse Ava's touch created. It didn't make his heart race or his mind spiral into territory he'd never considered before.

Melissa murmured, "Goodnight, Ben," her smile subdued in the streetlight. "Text me?"

"I will," he said, seeing her go as her form sank into the night.

Ben let himself grab his phone at last once she was out of sight. Ava's hard dick was still there, in all its glory.

Unable to pick just yet, he dropped the phone back into his pocket without answering and turned toward the parking garage where his car waited.

-----

Twenty minutes late, Ben rushed through the office doors the next day, his laptop bag stiflingly on his hip as he negotiated the labyrinth of desks. His regular thirty-minute drive had been over an hour of stop-and-go annoyance as the morning traffic had been a disaster--an overturned truck on the highway. He would have spent the crawl trying to decide whether to text Melissa as he had promised, then practicing what he might say to Ava. By the time he'd reached the office parking garage, he'd accomplished neither.

He followed his path to his workstation past Ava's desk and noticed a flash of red. On her desk, a grand display of lilies and orchids dominated, their scent obvious from many feet away. Not the kind of casual floral arrangement one could get in a grocery store, the bouquet was professionally prepared and wrapped in purple tissue with a silk ribbon.

Ben's motions halted as he passed, his eyes searching the desk for a card or some clue of who had delivered them. Ava herself was nowhere to be seen, her computer monitor dark, her chair empty. A weird twitching of jealousy turned in his stomach, then perplexity followed rapidly. Had someone else sent Ava flowers? Yet another ex he was unaware of? The idea hurt quite a bit.

Michael sat at the workstation next-door, fingers flying over his keyboard with headphones on. Ben tapped him on the shoulder, forcing his expression into casual curiosity as Michael looked up.

"Hey, just what's with the flowers?" Pointing to Ava's desk, Ben inquired.

Michael took off his headphones, his face lighting with the idea of office rumors. "You haven't heard? Ava was let into the graduate program."

"Graduate program?" Ben followed suit, raising his eyebrows.

"Yeah, you know, the company's fast-track thing for outstanding candidates." Michael slanted back in his chair, obviously delighted to be the news carrier. "Mia Sanders herself dropped down this morning to present the flowers and make her official offer. Ava is presently sorting the specifics in a meeting with HR."

Ben's mind raced to process this information. Highly competitive, the graduate program consisted of a two-year rotation across several departments under mentoring from top executives and a guaranteed a position upon graduation. Most applicants filed months in advance, went through several rounds of interviews, and even then, just three or four were chosen annually.

Setting his laptop bag on his desk, Ben added, "I thought the selection process happened back in January. And acceptances went out in March."

Michael shrugged and whirled his chair to face Ben squarely. "That is why it seems strange, right? Suddenly there's an extra spot, and it goes to the new hire who's been here all of, what, a couple of weeks? From what I heard, Mia seemed really insistent about it."

The implication hung in the air between them. Why would the vice president personally bring flowers and an unannounced offer to a subordinate staff member? Ava was unique enough to avoid the usual selection process.

"Well," Ben responded gently, "the business requires gifted people. Ava clearly does something really well." The words felt hollow even as he said them, accompanied by a sick feeling of suspicion that he didn't want to examine too closely.

"Oh, she's talented for sure," Michael said, sounding almost as though he were praising her. "Still, it's strange. Most of us have to wait years before being taken under consideration for that program."

Ben nodded, not knowing exactly what to say. Ava had suddenly leapfroggingly passed many more candidates.

"Anyway," Michael continued, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial level, "how was your date last night? With the accounting girl?"

Ben startled at the sudden shift of topic. "Melissa? It was good. She's nice."

" Nice?" Michael kept repeating, arcing an eyebrow. "That is the best you can do? "'nice' is how you characterize your grandmother's cookies, not a date with a hot accountant."

Ben shrugged and opened his laptop to evade Michael's penetrating stare. "It served as a first date. Our conversation went well. The cuisine was lovely. We're probably going to see each other again."

"Also?" Michael prodded. "Thus, it was not love at first sight, then?"

Is it ever? Ben objected, uneasy with the questioning. His emotions regarding Melissa were complex enough without having to tell Michael, of all people.

Michael opened his lips to reply, but activity at the door to their area distracted him. Ava walked in with a cream-colored top that complemented her skin tone and a dark pencil skirt hugging her contours. Ben could tell she was glowing, her steps light with barely contained excitement.

She went to her desk and saw the flowers; her face softened to show a really pleased smile. She gently stroked the petals and reached for the little package tucked amid the blossoms. As she read the card, her smile widened, and Ben felt that familiar tug in his chest.

Ava glanced up, her eyes meeting his across the office. The hustle and clamor of the office seemed to vanish for a split second, leaving just the two of them linked by an unseen thread of tension. She arched an eyebrow, a subliminal acknowledgement that sent heat rushing to his face. She broke the illusion by then focusing once more on the flowers.

Ben choked hard and pushed himself to turn aside, concentrating instead on getting his laptop running. He tried to summon thoughts of Melissa -- sweet, uncomplicated Melissa who laughed at his jokes and shared his interest in science fiction. But the recollection of Ava's explicit picture from the evening before persisted, along with the phantom sensation of her hands clutching his hips, her cock hilted inside him.

He had to talk to her, genuinely, about what was occurring between them. Regarding whether it could be more than just fleeting, highly physical moments. More than just her using him for the thrill.

Still, he couldn't stop the flutter of excitement at the idea of seeing her alone once he observed her from the corner of his eye, clearly delightedly arranging the flowers on her desk.

Deep in a debugging session, Ben's concentration turned to the lines of code on his computer when he felt someone approaching. The faint scent of jasmine preceded Ava, and he knew it was her before he even looked up. She shook an empty coffee mug in a nonverbal question, leaning her hip against his desk and the fabric of her pencil skirt pulled taut across her thigh. Her smile was brilliant, almost secretive, as if they shared a secret -- which, Ben supposed with a flush of heat, they most definitely did.

"Coffee break?" she asked, her voice nonchalant, as though last night's clear message and their past interactions had never occurred.

Ben nervously looked about the office, making sure someone was observing their exchange. Michael was luckily away from his desk, yet some heads turned to see Ava arriving. The graduate program news had obviously found its way through the office grapevine, and she was suddenly the focus of considerably more attention than normal.

Ben started then cleared his throat. "Sure."

"Relax," Ava replied, her smile broadening a fraction. "Coffee won't kill you."

At the double meaning in her words, heat crept up Ben's neck. He followed her toward the kitchen, idly straightening his shirt. Her walk was assured, slow, whereas he felt as though every step he took was under close inspection. Was his proximity to her too close? Not sufficiently close? Did his face show the range of feelings her presence set off in him?

When they arrived, the kitchen was mercifully vacant. Conscious of Ava's proximity as she reached past him for a clean mug from the cabinet, Ben walked to the coffee maker. She stroked his arm, and they felt a spark--static from the dry air--but it still startled them. Maybe Ben sensed it, that electric awareness buzzing between them like a live wire.

An uncomfortable silence descended as the coffee machine hissed and gurgled, enveloping the little room with the rich scent of freshly ground beans. Ben moved his weight from one foot to another looking for anything safe to say.

"Congratulations on the graduate position," he said at last as he watched the dark liquid flow into the carafe. "That is rather significant. You must have really impressed Mia."

Ava's face stayed still, although something sparked in her eyes--perhaps pride, maybe satisfaction. "Thanks. It was unexpected, but apparently my freelance work caught her attention. The post required someone with both design and technical ability."

"Well, you're certainly qualified," Ben answered, implying it despite his residual doubts about the odd timing. "Your portfolio was quite outstanding."

"I value the recommendation," Ava said, her eyes locked squarely with his.

"It was nothing," he responded, a little uneasy with the suggestion. "Just the truth."

Ava's lips turned into a smile that fell short of her eyes. "Speaking of truth," she replied, her voice lowering a little, "how was your date last night? W ith the accountant?"

The abrupt change of subject caught Ben off guard. He fumbled with the coffee pot, nearly spilling the hot liquid as he poured some into his mug. "How did you know about that?"

"Michael mentioned it," Ava answered with a lazy shrug, but her eyes stayed sharply fixed on Ben's face.

Ben worked through this data and realized Michael had probably notified Ava about his date before he had even arrived this morning. He got uncomfortable thinking about them talking about his personal life. "It was fine," he answered indifferently, adding milk to his coffee to deflect her eye contact.

"just fine?" Ava pressed, scooping the pot from his hand into her own mug. Hope I didn't interrupt with my... message."

Nodding a hello, a colleague walked into the kitchen area toward the refrigerator. Though Ava's remarks were artfully innocent, Ben felt his face heat up and knew how their chat would sound to an outsider.

"It was poor timing. We were in the middle of dinner," Ben said softly, swirling his coffee more deliberately than the job called for.

Ava's eyebrows lifted a little, a sense of entertainment across her face. "Oops," she responded, not sounding particularly contrite. "Did she see it?"

"No," Ben answered rapidly, looking at their coworker, who was fortunately concentrated on searching the refrigerator. "Still, it was... distracting."

"That was the idea," Ava said, her voice almost whisper-like now. She leaned forward, maybe to get the sugar bottle, her breath warm against his ear. "Did you think about it for the rest of the night?"

The truth was he had. Even with Melissa's company, the picture of Ava's explicit photo persisted in his head along with memories of their past meetings. That day on her parents' couch. The storage room at the Christmas party. Every moment had been charred into his memory with such intensity that his pulse accelerated even now.

Ben remarked, "We should talk," lowering his voice as his colleague closed the refrigerator door and returned into the main office. "After work."

Ava eyed him for a time, her face inscrutable. She nodded then, a single, firm motion. "Good. I'll be working late anyway."

"That works," Ben said, glad she hadn't dismissed the idea.

She swirled a package of sugar into her coffee with exact, under control motions. "I have plans after, though, so we'll need to keep it reasonably brief."

Ben's chest fluttered with another unpleasant jealously at the informal reference to her "plans". Was she with someone? Going on a date of her own? He had no right to feel possessive, particularly following his meal with Melissa, yet the feeling crept in uninvited.

"Of course," he said, raising a little thank-you gesture with his mug. " Would not want to keep you."

Ava's smile came back, a slow, confident curve of lips more than friendly. "Good," she replied as she sipped her coffee.

Ben found himself wondering what she meant as they returned to their respective desks. Was she really motivated to clear the air between them, or was this just another chance to play with him? Either way, he had the day to find exactly what he wanted to say to her -- and what he wanted from whatever this was between them.

People pouring out in ones and twos left the office gradually, like a theater following a matinee until just a small number remained. Ben saved his work after checking the clock on his computer, 5:52 PM; although he had not done anything in the past hour. His mind had been too fixated on the upcoming conversation, rehearsing what he might say to Ava and how he might clarify the mixed feelings she stirred in him. He'd settled on honesty as the best approach, difficult as it might be to articulate the contradictory pull he felt toward both her and the simpler life Melissa represented.

From his desk, he could see Ava still working, her fingers moving deftly across the keyboard, her look one of intense attention. She had taken some things from her desk drawer a few minutes ago and vanished toward the toilets. Ben assumed she was freshening up before their talk, maybe removing her makeup after a long day at the office.

The minutes passed: five fifty-five, five fifty-eight, six three. Ben's nervousness developed moment by moment. Had she changed her mind? Left through another exit to avoid him entirely? As he was looking at the women's bathrooms, movement drew his attention.

Ava turned from the professional vision she had been all day as she walked down the corridor toward her desk. She wore neon pink sports bra that left her midriff totally visible and form-fitting black spandex leggings that hung to every curve of her legs. Hanging open over the suit, a thin black athletic jacket did virtually nothing to hide the attire beneath. Her blonde hair was neat in a bun that stayed exactly in place with every assured step.

But Ben's eyes really focused on the clear bulge going down her left thigh; it caused his mouth to get dry and his pulse to quicken. The tight spandex highlighted the size and shape of her appendage in an unavoidable manner, hiding nothing. She had not at all tried to hide or downplay it; rather, exactly the reverse. It was almost as if she'd deliberately chosen the most revealing outfit possible.

Trying and failing to look anywhere else, Ben felt his face flush. The instant reaction of his body to the sight was indisputable and embarrassing. Grateful for the concealment his desk offered, he changed in his chair.

Ava went to her desk and started neatly stuffing her belongings into a sleek gym bag. She looked at him, her face inscrutable. Her tone was laid-back, as though she were not standing there virtually half-naked in the middle of their workplace, "Ready for our talk?" she asked. "We can chat while we walk to the parking garage."

"Right," said Yes," Ben said, struggling to shut his laptop and collect his stuff. Under her steady stare, his coordination failed him; his fingers seemed thick and unresponsive. Using the time to gather himself, he knocked a pen to the floor and bent to get it.

Ava had thrown her bag over her shoulder and was already headed toward the exit, obviously expecting him to follow, by the time he straightened. Her hips in those leggings had mesmerizing sway that drew his eyes even with best intentions.

They arrived at the elevator silently; Ben followed half-step behind. She hit the parking level button, and the doors slid closed to tightly enclose the little area. The elevator started down, the only sound between them faint hum of equipment.

Ben cleared his throat, but he found it impossible to recall the well chosen sentences he had been practicing all afternoon. Ava's clothes were a diversion he had not planned. Her body's proximity, so much of which was visible, rendered logical thought all but impossible.

At last, he questioned, the inquiry seeming ridiculous even as it left his mouth: "You're going to the gym?" She was naturally heading to the gym. Why else would she have dressed this way?

Ava arched an eyebrow, a puzzled look flickering over her face. "Well observed, detective," she said, her voice soft rather than sharp. "That's generally what these clothes are for, yes."

Ben felt a fire in his chest, an uncomfortable heat he knew to be want, but his hands were numb around the strap of his laptop bag. "Right," he said, forcing his gaze up to her face. "I just--that is, it's a bit"-- Unable to express that his concentration was being hampered by the way her pants showed her long dick, he waved aimlessly at her wardrobe.

Ava crossed her arms and slightly corrected her stance. The movement pushed her breasts together beneath the sports bra, creating another visual that Ben struggled not to stare at. "A bit what? Revealing? That's rich, coming from you. From what I remember, you have seen far more than this already."

"That's different," he murmured, his voice softer than he wanted. "That was private. This is... public."

"Is it the public part that bothers you?" Ava asked, head slightly slanted. "Or the reality that someone could find what you already know about me? What you seemed to enjoy quite thoroughly several times before, I might add."

Ben choked hard; the elevator felt several degrees warmer at once. "That is not--I did not mean--"

"You know," Ava continued, her voice softening slightly, "after what happened in the locker room, I thought you'd made your choice. I most definitely wasn't anticipating to find you had gone on a date with someone else." Benevolent on the surface, there was a suggestion of something weak under a layer of careless indifference--a flash of hurt rapidly hidden.

Neither of them moved right away; the elevator doors slid open at the parking level.

"We haven't even gone over what... this is." Ben said, his voice's defensiveness startling even to himself.

"No," Ava said as she got off the lift. "We haven't. That's why we're having this chat, isn't it?"

Ben trailed her into the poorly lighted parking garage, the discussion already veering off course he had intended. In his head, he had been the one seeking clarity regarding Ava's motives and posing the questions. Instead, he found himself on the defensive, explaining his actions to a woman whose confidence was as intimidating as it was attractive.

-----

Their footfall echoed in the enormous parking garage as they silently moved several paces. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows that danced around them as they moved, the atmosphere as stark and unforgiving as the conversation they were about to have. Ben inhaled deeply, ready to be sincere, with Ava and with himself. This had nothing to do with Melissa or Maria or social norms. This was about the indisputable attraction he felt for the woman next to him and the mixed emotions her particular identification set within him.

"Look," he began, his voice reverberating slightly in the concrete space, "I'm incredibly attracted to you, Ava. That's not the issue here."

She turned sideways to meet him. "then what exactly is the problem? Because you seemed pretty into me on my parents' couch, and then suddenly you're dating someone else."

"I still find myself adjusting to... this." He waved faintly at her, instantly regretting the movement's uncertainty. "Not only your anatomy, though certainly that is part of it. But also, during sex, how dominant you are. How you take control, how you..." He trailed off, his face flushed even in the cool garage air from thoughts of past encounters.

"how I fuck you?" Ava answered squarely, staring at him. "That's the kind of issue you're having? Because you certainly weren't complaining when my cock was inside you."

Ben winced at her direct choice of words, glancing around despite the garage being empty except for rows of silent vehicles. "That's exactly it. I expected to appreciate it less than I did. I have never had that experience; I have never been with a...."

Ava slowed her pace as her defensiveness gave way to something more contemplative. "You liked it, but you're freaking out since liking it questions your view of yourself?"

Ben nodded since the evaluation was so accurate. " Something like that," he said. "Your body is only one aspect here. It's about what appreciating it reveals about me."

They came to a concrete support pillar, and Ava stopped to turn directly toward him. The harsh overhead lighting cast dramatic shadows across her features, accentuating the determined set of her jaw. "It says nothing about you except that, when you experience pleasure, you can identify it. Bodies react to stimulus, Ben. It's biology, not some great pronouncement on your sexual identification."

Ben thought about this point of view, which seemed simple yet comforting. "It is more than that, though. I should know better what this is between us. That's why I wanted to ask about Maria."

Ava's eyebrow fractionally lifted at the name. "What about her?"

"You two were together for a while. I just want to know your tastes." Though he couldn't think of something better, the phrase felt insufficient for what he was actually looking for.

Ava began walking again, her steps measured and thoughtful. Beside her, Ben dropped into pace waiting for her reply.

"Maria was my first serious relationship," she replied at last, her voice lower than it had been. "We were together until roughly six months ago. We met in college, started dating junior year."

"What happened?" Ben asked then quickly turned around. "Sorry, that's probably too personal."

Ava's mouth turned to a sorrowful smile. "No, it's fine. She accepted a job opportunity in Seattle, and we experimented with long-distance for some time before deciding to call it quits." She shrugged, her jacket slippering slightly off one shoulder with motion. "It was reciprocal and rather friendly, as these things go."

They turned down another row of cars, moving deeper into the garage. Ben gathered his courage to ask the question that had been burning in his mind. "So you prefer women?"

Ava laughed unexpectedly, a sharp sound bouncing off the concrete walls. "Until lately, yeah. Women have been my only real preference. Which is why this--" she gestured between them, "--has been such a surprise."

"A surprise?" Trying to understand what she was saying, Ben repeated.

"Yeah, Ben, a surprise." She paused once more and turned to squarely face him. "I wasn't expecting to be attracted to a man, especially not a somewhat uptight programmer who seems perpetually flustered around me. Yet here we are."

The admission produced a pleasant surge across Ben's chest. The knowledge that his attraction to her was equally unexpected on her side somehow made it feel more significant, less like he was just a convenient experiment.

"I have to ask," he replied, willing himself tokeepeye contact despite the distracting outline stillclearthrough her leggings. "How much of your public place excitement determines your interest in me? The risk of getting caught? Because that's not something I'm comfortable withlong-term."

Ava gave the question some thought, her head slanted slightly as she answered. "The public aspect was definitely a catalyst," she said, after a moment. "Something about the risk increases everything. But that's not all this is, least not for me."

"Then what is it?" Ben pressed, seeking more clarification.

"It's many things," Ava answered, picking up their slower stroll once more. "Your mind operates in such a way that you methodically approach difficulties yet still come up with original answers. Even Michael with his awful jokes, you treat everyone in the office kindly. A little smile curved her lips. "It's how totally oblivious you are of your own appeal, which is somehow frustrating and endearing."

Ben took in her words, startled by their level of insight. "And the dominance? Taking control during sex?"

Ava's cheeks flushed faintly, hardly perceptible under the strong lighting. "That's actually new for me," she said. "With past partners, I have never been especially domineering. Something about you exposes that in me."

"What do you mean?" Ben asked, now quite naturally inquisitive.

Ava shook her head slightly. "I'm not totally sure. There's something about your reserved nature that makes me want to push you out of your comfort zone. To find what lies under all that deliberate control. Her eyes met his, unexpectedly vulnerable. "And it's quite strong when you answer to it and let yourself go totally. Addictive, even."

Ben was very moved by her candor in admitting it. He hadn't thought about how their interactions may be influencing her; he had been entirely preoccupied with what they indicated about him. His viewpoint changed unexpectedly when he considered that he might be presenting her something special--something she had never encountered before.

"I didn't realize," he said softly.

"Well, now you do," Ava said, her customary assurance returning. "Let me ask you... is it just the unusual nature of my body that's troubling you, or is there something else?"

Knowing that his answer counted, maybemore than any he had given previously, Ben gave great consideration before responding. At last he said, "It's not your body. It 'show I react to it. To you. It terrifies me how fast you've grown to be significant to me; I have never felt this strongly about anyone."

Ava's face softened and real astonishment danced across her features. "Important to you," she repeated, the words seemingly new and unexpected to her ears.

"Yes," Ben said, startled by his own openness but reluctant to undo it. "And this is why I had to know what this is. Whether it is merely physical for you or if there could be more."

Now they were at his car, the familiar form of his Honda grounding existence in the dreamlike terrain of their discourse. Ava stopped a few feet away, her gym bag shifting on her shoulder as she considered his words.

"I'm not sure exactly what this is," she answered at last, her voice oddly hesitant. "But I know it's not just physical. Not for me."

A weight dropped from Ben's chest at her words, replaced by a wary hope that made his next breath come easier than any had in days.

Standing next to Ben's car, their moment hung between them like a thread pulled taut. Ava moved with her workout bag adjusted to her other shoulder, her exposed stomach catching the fluorescent light. Except for the white noise of ventilation, the parking garage was eerily quiet, providing a pocket of isolation that made their conversation feel both intimate and oddly cut off from the outside world.

"I can't guarantee where this might go," Ava remarked, breaking the quiet that had enveloped them. "I'm not in the business of making promises I might not keep. But I won't rule anything out either." Her eyes locked squarely with his unwavering directness. "I like you, Ben. More than I could have imagined. And I enjoy this other side of myself you have helped me discover.

Ben nodded as he considered her comments. It wasn't a declaration of love, but it was honest -- refreshingly so after the confusion of the past weeks.

"To be entirely honest," Ava said. "At first I hadn't really thought about you romantically. You seemed so confused about my body, so uncertain about what you wanted, that I assumed you were just curious and experimenting." She adjusted the strap on her workout bag, a little action that belied the weight of her remarks. "But the way you responded to me... it wasn't just physical curiosity. There was something more."

"There was," Ben confirmed quietly. "There is."

At the corners of Ava's mouth, a little smile emerged. "Ironically, my parents would be thrilled if I dated a man. They have always struggled a little bit with my inclination for women - not in a nasty way, but in that worried parent sense where they worry about my life being more difficult than it should be." She rolled her eyes, yet the action was more affectionate than irritable. "But Ben, if we are to do this, you must stop the confused straight guy routine."

Ben opened his mouth to protest, but Ava raised a hand, silencing him.

"I mean it. Dealing with people's uncertainty about who I am has been my lifetime job. I won't be with someone who's ashamed of being attracted to me, who needs to compartmentalize their desire or rationalize it away." Her eyes stayed sweet as her speech acquired a sharper edge. "If you want me, you need to want all of me. Not despite what's between my legs, but including it. I'm a package deal."

Her words carried a challenge that hung between them. Ben came to see this was the ultimatum he had sensed, issued with self-respect rather than malice. Ava wouldn't settle for less; she recognized her value, and what she deserved. It was one of the things he admired most about her.

"You're right," he responded, astonished by how readily the acknowledgment came. "I haven't thought about what my uncertainty could feel like to you; I have been so caught in what all this indicates about myself. I'm sorry for that."

A silence stretched between them, filled with the ambient sounds of the parking lot--distant car doors closing, the rustle of leaves in the light breeze. Ben's eyes followed the gentle curves and subdued firmness of her physique in the formfitting gym clothing. They highlighted all her femininity.

"I like your outfit," he remarked simply, shockingly honest.

Ava looked down at herself and then back up at him with a sardonic smirk. "Yeah, I know you do."

Something in her voice--knowing, confident, but slightly vulnerable--made his heart accelerate. This was Ava at her most authentic, laying her cards on the table without pretense or seduction. Simply a woman seeking acceptance and honesty.

"Look," she said, adjusting her gym bag again, "I'm heading to the gym. I have some tension to deal through. I will say yes if you want me out on an actual date--dinner, a movie, whatever ordinary people do. But the ball is in your court now, Ben."

She turned to leave and waved a hand casually over her shoulder. "See you tomorrow."

Ben saw her withdrawing form and the assured hip sway. His head whirled with the ramifications of her comments, her clarity. Actually, what was holding him back? Social expectations? Fear of being judged? Or something deeper--a fear that once the novelty wore off, he wouldn't know how to build something real with her?

The reality dropped over him like a flash insight: he could have both. The deeper emotional connection and the mind-boggling passion. The physical thrill and the relationship built on mutual respect. It was not an either-or issue. It never had been. His readiness to deal with whatever stigma associated with dating someone like Ava was the only real barrier; suddenly, that cost looked small in comparison to what he might gain.

"Fuck it," he murmured to himself, then said louder. "Ava! Wait!".

She stopped, turning halfway back to check on him, her expression wary yet hopeful. Not from effort but from the weight of the occasion, Ben discovered he was suddenly short of breath; the knowing that anything he said next would permanently alter the path of both their lives.

Ben's feet took him across the asphalt before his brain could doubt the choice. Driven by the abrupt clarity that had swept over him moments before, he moved deliberately, his heart beating against his ribs. Ava watched his approach, her gym bag hanging from her fingertips, her eyes wary but clearly expectant as she waited to hear what had prompted him to yell out after her.

"Do you want to get a bite to eat?" he asked when he reached her, the words tumbling out before he could overthink them. "After your workout, I mean. Or before. Really, anytime you want. Or did you have any plans?"

A smile tugged at the corners of Ava's lips, small at first, then blooming into something that transformed her entire face. "Are you asking me on a date, Ben Jennings?"

"Yes," he answered, shocking himself with his lack of doubt. "A real date." No offices; no couches; no parents walking in. Just you and me and food."

Ava laughed, and her eyes glittered. "Come here."

Ben moved toward her then another step, until they were just inches apart. Her smell was intoxicating and something uniquely her--a scent he'd caught hints of during their previous encounters but never fully appreciated until now.

"Closer," she murmured, tilting her head toward his, her intentions unmistakable.

He leaned in, his glasses sloppily sliding down his nose as their lips touched. The contact was electric--soft at first, then a little pressure that turned into something more urgent very rapidly. Her lips parted beneath his, inviting him deeper, and Ben felt himself falling into the kiss with an enthusiasm that surprised him.

With soft insistence, Ava's free hand crept up to cradle the back of his neck and her fingers threaded into his hair. Their tongues danced in a ballet of inquiry, smooth and warm, the flavor of her--minty with an underlying sweetness--entrancing him. As the kiss deepened, saliva mixed with their synchronized weak breaths.

Ben's hand dropped without conscious awareness and found the developing bulge in her tight sports leggings. Feeling her stiffening against his palm, he cupped her through the cloth. A thrill ran through him at the contradiction--the soft femininity of her lips and the unmistakable evidence of her arousal pressing against his hand.

Ava uttered a little sound of pleasure into his mouth, then matched his action by reaching between them to stroke his own developing erection through his work pants. Her hand had just the right pressure; she was confident in a way that made his knees weak. Her thumb teased at the head in a way that made him groan into her mouth, following the contours of him across the cloth.

Their tongues entangled more deeply now, investigating, claiming. Ben felt engulfed by her; her taste, touch, scent permeated his senses until nothing else connected. Ava's breath came hot and quick against his lips, a gentle gasp escaping her as his tongue sank farther into her mouth. He felt her tighten slightly as his fingers traced her length across the thin fabric of her tights, noticing how it strained against the material and pulsed under his touch.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily, a thread of saliva momentarily connecting their lips before breaking. Ava's pupils dilated until just a little ring of blue remained; her eyes were dark with want. Ben thought he looked just as affected; the heat of the exchange somewhat fogged his spectacles.

His hand continued its gentle exploration, tracing the impressive outline of her erection through her pants, when suddenly Ava's palm landed on his wrist with a light slap.

"Dinner first," she replied, her voice quiet with want despite her words of moderation. "Otherwise you'll never get to know my mind--just my dick."

Startled by her honesty even after all they had gone through, Ben laughed. His eyes slid automatically to the large bulge now clearly seen in her exercise trousers.

"Doesn't look like your mind is the only thing that's interested," he teased, gesturing toward the evidence of her arousal.

Though her smile stayed, Ava rolled her eyes and looked down at herself. "I can skip the workout today," she declared. " Honestly, I am very hungry. For food," she clarified with a playful emphasis.

"I know a burger place not far from here." Ben said, pointing for her hand and lacing his fingers through hers. After the raw intensity of their kiss--a different kind of connection but no less strong--the simple contact felt surprisingly intimate. "Their sweet potato fries are the best in the city."

"Burgers?" Ava's face came alive with real delight. "God, yes. I've been craving something greasy and terrible for my body all week."

Walking hand in hand toward his car, they found a comfortable stillness between them. Walking freely together, their relationship evident to everyone who might pass by, the daily act felt exceptional somehow. Not hiding under blankets or behind closed doors. Two people attracted to one another starting something real.

When they reached his Honda, Ben unlocked the passenger door for her before circling to the driver's side. He slid behind the wheel and saw Ava shifting uneasily in her seat.

"Problem?" He asked, putting the key in the ignition.

Ava pointed at the ridiculous tent in her shorts. "This is starting to bother me. I should change before we go." She reached for her gym bag in the back seat. "I was going to do it in the locker room, but..."

"Do it here," Ben advised, shockingly brazen.

Ava's eyes grew slightly then contracted with curiosity. She bit her lower lip, and it gave him a new rush of want. "What if someone sees us?"

Ben said, "Well," with a fresh confidence, "in that case, I'll sit on it."

Ava's throat started to bubble with a real, unforced chuckle. She muttered, "You're terrible," but she was already reaching for her waistline and gently raising her hips to work the shorts down her legs.

The confined space of the car made the task awkward. She fought to pull off the tight cloth, twisting and turning with legs that bent at odd angles. Ben watched, enthralled, as she first showed her pale thighs then the black briefs that fell short of completely containing her excitement.

She tugged one last time to get off the shorts. Her erection, no longer constrained, slapped audibly against her stomach. The sight was mesmerizing--the delicate femininity of her thighs contrasting with the unmistakable masculinity of her arousal.

She reached for her gym bag to pull on some sweatpants, but Ben's hand moved on its own initiative before she could. His fingers felt the heat of her, the hardness, the faint pulse of her heartbeat as they enveloped her length.

"I thought we were going to eat first," Ava murmured, though she made no move to stop him.

She was amazing--long and thick, the head shining with precum. Ben's thumb swept the delicate tip, distributing the welling clear fluid. More showed up practically right away, evidence of her excitement.

"The food can wait," Ben said, his voice scarcely heard over his own heartbeat in his ears. His fingers explored her length with growing confidence, learning what made her breath catch, what made her hips lift slightly off the seat.

Ava's head dropped back against the headrest, her lips slightly parted as Ben's thumb kept slow circles around her sensitive head, catching the precum that flowed freely now. He was struck with surprising vigor by the intimacy of the moment--the vulnerability in her expression, the trust implied in her submission to his touch.

This was what he wanted, he realized. This connection as much as the physical excitement. This permission to see her, all of her, without pretense or performance. And for her to see him the same way.

"Ben," she said, her voice laden with longing.

His fingers still going in slow, purposeful moist strokes, he answered, "Yes?"

"The food can definitely wait."

Ben dropped his head, his mouth salivating with expectation as Ava's erection stood boldly before him in the small Honda. Her pale skin was shadowed by the dome light, which accentuated the difference between her feminine thighs and the clearly manly side of her that had captivated him so totally. Leaning forward, his breath heated on her sensitive tip, his spectacles slid slightly down his nose.

"God, you're beautiful," he said, the words flying before he could give them any thought.

Ava's fingers gently but firmly threaded through his hair. "Less talking, more sucking," she advised, her voice showing a fragility beneath the bravado.

Ben did not require more encouragement. His lips opened to capture her great width into the moist heat of his mouth. The taste was pure yet clearly Ava, somewhat salted with an underlying sweetness that felt symbolic for the woman herself. He murmured gently into her body, and the vibration caused her hips to jerk forward.

Ava gasped, her head slipping back against the headrest. Her fingers clenched in his hair, merely hanging on as the sensation washed over her instead of guiding.

The car felt suddenly too little, too hot. With their combined breath, the windows started to cloud as Ben worked his tongue along her shaft, following the clear vein throbbing with her accelerated heartbeat. He set a pattern, dragging her down with each downward motion, then withdrawing only to whirl his tongue around the sensitive head before diving back down once more.

Ava's breathing became erratic while her thighs tightened on each side of Ben's shoulders. "That's it," she said, her voice a hoarse whisper. "exactly like that."

Ben got a flash of pride at her reply. He was still new to this, learning the contours of her body, discovering what brought her the most pleasure. But her responses, the subdued moans she fought to control, the little arch of her back, assured him he was doing something right.

From her tip, a bead of precum escaped and covered his tongue in its slippery warmth. Ben gulped, yearning more, accelerating his speed as Ava's hips started to move in tiny, instinctive thrusts.

"Ben, wait," she exclaimed abruptly, her hand lightly pushing him back by pressing against his forehead. "I'm getting close."

He looked up, his glasses slightly askew, saliva dribbling on his lips. "That's kind of the point," he said, a little perplexed.

Ava laughed; the sound strained with repressed need. "I don't think your Honda's upholstery will appreciate what happens next." Still wet from his attention, she waved toward her notable erection. "I tend to... well, there's a lot. And it's not exactly easy to clean up."

"Oh," Ben replied, his face suddenly lit with insight. The memory of their previous encounters flashed in his mind -- the surprising volume of her release, how it had filled his mouth beyond capacity. "right."

"Rain check?" Ava offered, dark eyes full of hope. "Let us get some food and carry on at your house instead."

Ben nodded, grudgingly straightening himself in his seat and using his sleeve to wipe precum away from his lips. His own arousal pressed uncomfortably against his work slacks. "Yes, we agreed on burgers."

"Hell yes. But I should most definitely switch into something less... revealing for public consumption."

From her bag she pulled a blue hoodie and some gray sweatpants. The small space of the car made changing difficult, particularly given her erection still standing at attention. She wiggled, contorting herself awkwardly as she tried to pull the sweatpants up her legs.

"Having issues?" Ben asked, unable to hide his amused smile as he watched her struggle.

Ava answered dryly, raising her hips to slide the sweatpants over her ass, "Cars aren't exactly designed for impromptu wardrobe changes." She wined as the movement pushed her head against the car's roof. " Particularly not Civics."

Ben watched, mesmerized, as she covered her bottom half. The loose sweatpants did little to hide the bulge of her arousal, but at least she was decent enough for public viewing. Next came the sweatshirt, which she pulled over her head in one fluid motion, momentarily revealing the pale expanse of her stomach and the underside of her sports bra.

"Enjoying the show?" She said playfully, catching his gaze as her head emerged from the sweatshirt's collar.

"immensely," not feeling the need to keep his gratitude under cover. His hand discovered hers across the middle console, their fingers naturally entwining.

The journey to the burger joint went in easy banter, broken sometimes by stolen looks and the odd squeeze of linked hands. Driving together seemed oddly important, a typical couple's pastime they hadn't yet enjoyed.

Ben asked as they negotiated nighttime traffic: "So tell me more about this graduate program. What exactly does it involve?"

Ava's face came alive with real enthusiasm. "It functions as essentially a fast-track to a permanent position. Two years traveling between many divisions, collaborating closely on strategic initiatives with many teams." Ben thought her gesture--tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear--was adorable. "To be honest, I still find it unbelievable they chose me. Most apply for months, go through several interviews..."

Ben answered, meaning it really, "They recognized talent when they saw it." Ava's talents were indisputable, whatever his concerns about the odd timing.

"That's sweet of you to say," she added, grasping his hand. "But I know your suggestion worked. Mia mentioned that specifically."

Ben's chest warmed at her recognition. "I just told her the truth - that you're brilliant at what you do."

Arriving to the burger joint--a hole-in-the-wall establishment with neon signage and a standing for the greatest sweet potato fries in the city. For a weeknight, the parking lot was shockingly empty--a stroke of fortune Ben silently praised the universe for.

Ava's hand located his once they moved from the car to the door. Ben didn't miss the informal familiarity of the gesture; they were formally in public now, not hiding under blankets or in closets. Anyone could see them together, observe their obvious connection as they leaned into one another's space.

Inside the air smelled like fried potatoes and grilled pork. They went to the counter, Ben moving forward to place an order. Ava stood behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and pressing herself against his back before he could speak. Even over their layers of clothes, he felt the clear push of her erection against his ass, strong and relentless.

"I'll have two." Ava moved against Ben, purposefully raising the pressure, and his voice broke. He started again, clearing his throat. "Two double cheeseburgers, please. And yeah, two orders of sweet potato fries."

While taking the order, the bored-looking blue-haired young cashier hardly noticed their presence. "For here or to go?"

Ben managed, "To go," while Ava's hands slipped perilously near his belt.

"Drink?"

Ava spoke over Ben's shoulder, "Two Cokes," her voice exactly regular despite the suggestive posture. "And could we get some extra napkins?"

At the implication of those extra napkins, Ben felt a surge of heat. His imagination supplied vivid images of what would happen once they reached his apartment, of what those napkins might be used to clean up.

Their lunch came in a paper bag covered in oil, looking to be rather good inside. Anticipating Ben's apartment, the smell of burgers permeated the car but did little to lessen the hunger they had for each other.

"I just realized," Ava said as they neared his complex, "I'll need you to drive me to work tomorrow morning."

Ben looked at her, arcing an eyebrow. "That seems a little presumptuous, though. Assuming you are spending the evening?"

Ava's smile descended into predatory form, a flash of fangs in the dark vehicle. "Oh, Benjamin, I am most definitely spending the evening." Her hand dropped on his thigh, fingers pointing upward toward his groin. "I'm supposed to fuck you all night long until you forget your own name."

Ben felt a shudder down his spine at the words, which mixed excitement with nervousness that sank down in his belly. All night long. The possibility was exciting and slightly scary.

"I'll set an early alarm," he said, pulling into his designated parking spot with a raspy eagerness.

Ben and Ava were sealed into the little metal box that would take them to his flat by the quiet hiss of the closing elevator doors. Burger paper bags hung from Ben's fingers, their greasy scent filling the small area. Though her hair stayed in her perfect exercise bun, he looked at Ava, who had changed into loose sweatpants and a fitting sweatshirt in the car. The privacy of the elevator seemed to electrify the air between them, making the short journey to the fifth floor feel impossibly long.

Ben hit his floor button, and Ava closed the space between them as the elevator jerked upward. Her lips opened to his with a desire that made his knees wither. The paper bag crinkled as his grip tightened, his other hand instinctively finding the small of her back, pulling her closer. Their bodies squeezed together with a desperation that had grown since the parking garage.

He said against her mouth, "God, you're driving me crazy," his hand moving lower to cup her ass through the silky fabric of her sweatpants.

Ava answered by intensifying the kiss and gently, teasingly probing his mouth with her tongue. Ben moved inward, his fingers softly kneading the strong muscle of her butt. Seeking the heat emanating from her most private areas, his middle finger followed the split between her cheeks and pressed the cloth into the separation. Her body arched naturally into his touch as Ava moaned into his lips, his finger approaching her anus across the layers of clothes.

"Ben," she said, the one syllable weighty with need.

Though he didn't care, his glasses had fogged slightly from their shared breath in the small room. The feeling of Ava against him, her unusual body reacting to his touch in ways he still found surprising and joyful, was all that counted. His finger pressed harder, whirling around the puckered entrance he sensed through her clothing.

The elevator chimed abruptly, startling them both. Now it seemed like an intrusion, but the doors swung open with the same mechanical hiss that had shut them. Ben's hand withdrew to a more innocent posture as he straightened his rumpled shirt, separating them. Ava tucked a stray hair behind her ear, her cheeks flushed with a mixture of shame and residual want.

An older couple waited to ride the elevator; their eyes gleamed with knowledge yet their demeanor were kindly neutral. Ben nodded a greeting as he took Ava's hand and led her out, the paper bag of food swinging awkwardly at his side.

"Evening," he managed, his voice louder than usual.

As the pair moved inside the elevator, the doors closing on their inquisitive looks, they whispered answers. Ben squeezed Ava's hand, and they shared a silent, breathless laugh as they headed down the hallway toward his apartment.

Another door opened further down the corridor, almost at his door. Ben's neighbor showed up--a man in his mid-thirties with perpetually messy hair and a similarly messy beagle straining at its leash. Ben had greeted him a hundred times, but he never remembered if his name was Rick or Nick.

The neighbor yelled, "Hey, man," and his eyes swiftly caught Ava with unvarnished curiosity.

"Hey," Ben said, struggling with his keys as Ava drew near his side.

The neighbor's gaze drifted downward, and his eyebrow rose almost imperceptibly as it landed on the unmistakable bulge in Ava's sweatpants. Her hip angled away from the neighbor's line of view, so she changed her position, crossing one leg slightly in front of the other and resting more heavily against Ben's arm.

"Nice evening," the neighbor said, his tone a mix of astonishment and something harder to define--perhaps wonder, maybe evaluation.

"Definitely," Ben said at last wriggling the right key into the lock. " Have a nice stroll."

He pulled the door open and walked Ava inside, tightly locking it behind them without waiting for a reply. Staying at the entrance for a beat, they stared at one another in his apartment's startling silence.

"Do you think he noticed?" With a voice almost above a whisper, Ava questioned.

Ben said, "Oh, he definitely noticed," a smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth.

Ava's palm shot to her lips, but it was unable to catch the blast of laughter she let out. "Oh, my god, his face!"

In the low light of his flat, Ben's own laughing bubbled up and mixed with hers. The suspense that had momentarily enveloped them melted into shared laughter, a clandestine delight that felt deeply personal.

Once their laughter had stopped, Ava added, "I should probably be more careful about that," indicating vaguely toward her crotch. "It's just you get me so worked up."

She reached up and took the band from her hair as she spoke, letting the golden waves flow over her shoulders in a movement so absolutely feminine it caused Ben's breath to stop. This soft action contrasted with the firm proof of her erection under her sweatpants produced that now-familiar sense of contradiction he discovered more, bizarrely arousing.

Ben said, laying the bag of burgers on the little table near the door: "I like that I have that effect on you."

Ava closed the space between them once again and started to smile predatory. Their fingertips touched and they felt a spark, static from the dry air, but it still startled them. Her kiss claimed his once more while her hands discovered his chest and gently pushed him back into the door. Driven by the brief separation and the exhilaration of their near-exposure in the corridor, the kiss was deeper now and more intense.

Ben's hands entwined in her loose hair, delighting in its silky smoothness, as Ava's fingers drifted lower, locating the button of his jeans and deftly opening it. The zipper came next, its metallic rasp shockingly loud in the silent flat. Her fingers slid inside, gripping his erection over his thin cotton boxers.

"You're so hard already," she said softly in want against his lips. "Just from kissing me."

"From everything," Ben admitted, gasping as her fingers squeezed him gently through the fabric. "From the way you look, the way you smell... the way you taste."

Ava murmured with delight at his words; her other hand crept under his shirt to follow patterns on his stomach. His muscles quitched under her touch as her fingers ascended to sweep across a nipple.

"Should we eat first?" she inquired, the fun twinkle in her eye reflecting the innocence of her query as her hand kept investigating his jeans. "The burgers will get cold."

Ben's eyes strayed to the abandoned takeaway bag on the table then returned to Ava's hot face. He stretched out without thinking and swept the bag to the floor, the paper crinkling as it dropped.

His hands found the hem of her sweatshirt and went beneath to cup one hard breast, "What burgers?" he said.

Ava laughed, the sound transforming into a soft moan as his thumb brushed across her nipple. " I was hoping you would say that."

Their bodies squeezed together as if magnets, they stood beside the entrance engaged in a passionate hug. Under Ava's shirt, Ben's fingers felt the smooth fullness of her breast. His thumb circled her nipple till it pebbled against his touch. She groaned into his mouth, her hand over his hardness across his boxers using ever more forceful strokes. Each movement a challenge, each kiss a question: who would give first priority to pleasure? They were testing one another.

Ava's free hand drifted lower, grasping Ben's ass through his work pants and ravenous fingers kneaded the skin. Not to be surpassed, Ben palming the noticeable bulge straying against the silky fabric with his hand from her breast down to her slacks. Her erection felt impossibly hard beneath his touch, radiating heat that penetrated the material separating them.

"Jesus, Ava," he said, interrupting their kiss with his fingers around her girth over the sweatpants. "You're so hard for me."

Ava flushed, pleasure blending with something like pride in her gaze. Pulling him down into another kiss more of ownership than love, she tightened her hold on the rear of his neck. Her tongue claimed his mouth with careful, probing strokes that reflected another intimacy entirely, past his lips.

Ava sank on her knees before him without warning, her hands sliding down his body as she went. Her predatory smile playing at the edges of her mouth, she glanced up at him through her lashes.

"I need to taste you," she murmured, her voice a husky directive instead of a request.

Ben nodded merely; his words vanished in the furnace of expectation. Ava dragged her fingers down in one continuous move from the waistband of his pants and boxers. Bobbing slightly with his accelerated pulse, his erection sprang free. She drove the clothes down till it bunched about his ankles, thereby locking him in place.

Her hands glided up his thighs, her touch feather-light and tormenting. Ben leaned back against the door for support; his legs were already shaking with expectancy. Ava's breath was warm against his sensitive skin as she leaned closer, but she didn't touch him yet. Rather, she went for the hem of her sweatshirt and pulled it off in one fluid motion, releasing her petite, ideal breasts into the cold apartment air.

Ben found his breath stopped in his throat. Seeing Ava kneeling before him, topless, her blonde hair falling over her shoulders, her eyes black with need, was rather sensual. Her feminine upper body contrasted with the obvious firmness still trapped in her sweatpants presented a scenario that drove a flood of blood to his already hurting erection.

"You're beautiful," he said, the words insufficient for the flood of feeling in his chest.

Ava's smile softened briefly then went back to its natural desire. She moved forward, making eye contact, then opened her lips to slide him inside her mouth. The initial contact was almost unbearably intense--her lips warm and soft as they wrapped around the sensitive head of his cock. As Ben sank farther, his head dropped back against the door with a quiet thud and he started to groan.

She took him farther, her tongue whirling around the tip then flattening on the bottom of his shaft with great skill. She started a beat with her hand working in time with her lips to provide an ongoing feeling that caused Ben's toes to curl within his shoes. Her lips tightened on the upstroke, delivering ideal pressure just under the head, then she sank once again.

Ben's hands found their way into her hair, not directing but just having to touch her, to center himself in the tremendous pleasure she was generating. Her ministrations filled the flat with moist noises, broken by his more ragged breathing and occasional groans when she touched a particularly sensitive point.

"Ava," he murmured, sensing the characteristic tightness that suggested his nearing climax. "I'm getting close."

Ava slowed her speed and deliberately changed her motions instead of withdrawing. Her tongue moved languid circles around the sensitive tip as her lips created a tight seal just beneath the ridge of his glans, therefore reducing the depth but increasing the suction. Her fingers kept gently, firmly massaging the base of his erection.

The shift in approach kept him poised on the knife's edge of climax without letting him tumble over and extended his plateau. Ben's hips made reflexive, abortive thrusts she could readily control with her free hand on his hip. His fingers tightened in her hair.

When she let him go at last, it was by guiding him deeper once more and vibrating a low note across his whole length. His climax racing through him with an intensity that blurred his vision at the margins, the combined sensations drove him past the point of no return.

"Ava, I'm--" he attempted to warn her, but the first pulse of his orgasm knocked the words apart into a groan.

She maintained eye contact as she received his cum blast, her throat working visibly as she swallowed each spurt without hesitation. Her blue eyes fixed on his, her lips stretched over his pounding cock, her attitude one of contentment even smug as she received everything he had to give. The image was insanely erotic.

Ava gently suctioned the last trembles from him as the intensity dropped, then released him with a quiet pop. She gradually decreased her motions. She wiped the corner of her mouth with her thumb, then started to grin satisfactorially.

"Not bad," she said, rising elegantly to her feet. But I'll show you what a true load of cum feels like.

The promise in her words sent an aftershock of pleasure through Ben despite his recent release. She drew him into another kiss, and he tasted himself on her tongue--a somewhat harsh salt that ought to have turned him off but yet did not.

Ava broke off the kiss and moved back, her hands reaching to pull his shirt over his head with hurried motions. She corrected him with a steely glance when they were both equally nude from the waist up.

She said, "Bedroom," her voice low and strong. "Right now."

Ben threw off his shoes, then grabbed her hand and walked her along the short corridor to his bedroom from the puddle of his trousers and boxers. The mattress creaked softly as he sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at Ava who remained standing before him, her chest rising and falling with quick, shallow breaths of anticipation.

His fingers hooked beneath the elastic as his hands slid to the waistband of her trousers. Seeking validation, he gazed up at her and she nodded--her bottom lip pinched between her teeth. He smoothly slipped the sweatpants down to expose that she had nothing beneath.

In a moment that should have been embarrassing but instead gave Ben a fresh thrill of excitement, her penis burst free from its captivity and smacked noisily against his cheek. He found himself face-to-face with the impressive length that had filled his mouth in the parking garage, his hand on her parents' couch, and his ass in their most recent, mind-blowing encounter.

It was gorgeous in its own right, thick and straight with notable veins running down its great length. Deeper pink than the shaft, the head gleamed with the proof of her arousal. Her pulse throbbed clearly from her body, suggesting its weight and stiffness by its modest upward tilt. From this close vantage point, Ben could see every detail--the little ridge where the glans met the shaft, the slit at the tip crying clear fluid, the taut skin stretched over her amazing width.

Ava said, her fingers tangled in his hair, "Make it wet," softly but forcefully bringing his face nearer.

Ben moistened his lips, then leaned over and spat straight onto her cock, watching as the saliva covered the head and flowed down the shaft in glittering rivulets. Feeling the heat and firmness of her, he curled his palm around the base and gently, deliberately distributed the fluids. The dimensions were still very frightening; his fingers couldn't completely circle her girth and the length much beyond his grasp.

After a minute of this getting ready, Ben moved forward and put the head into his mouth, his lips opening to fit her width. The taste was clean with a faint muskiness that was uniquely Ava--not unpleasant, but distinctly different from his own flavor that had lingered on her lips earlier. Ava's breath hitched above him as he stroked his tongue around the sensitive ridge.

"That's it," she said, her voice strained as he descended farther and her fingers tightened in his hair. "Use your tongue more."

Ben obliged, bringing more of her into his lips and flattening his tongue on the bottom of her shaft. She was just too huge, so he couldn't fit her whole length; but, he made up for it by working his hand in time with his mouth, producing a continuous pleasure from base to tip.

Seeking more depth than he could easily offer, Ava's hips started to make little, involuntary thrusts. She drew back, her demeanor remorseful for a while before turning into something more forceful after a particularly ardent thrust forward made him choke slightly.

"Enough," she said, gently but firmly pushing him back onto the bed. "I can't wait for your ass any longer."

Ava gripped Ben's ankles with surprising power and pushed them upward and apart to totally expose him. As she arranged him how she wanted him--vulnerable, open, ready--the chilly air of the bedroom caressed his most intimate areas. Ben felt a momentary flash of embarrassment at being so exposed, but it dissolved quickly beneath the heat of Ava's hungry gaze. She laid his right leg on her shoulder, the close touch of her flawless skin against his calf sending shivers down his spine.

"Ava," he said, his voice caught as she held her cock in palm and pointed it in his direction. The blunt head slammed into him, hot and forceful, sharpening his awareness of her considerable weight. "Go slow, please. You're... you're really big."

Though they had done this before, the recollection of that first stretch, that scorching incursion that gave way to pleasure, stayed clear in his mind. His voice was not fear but a realistic worry. Ava nodded, her face softening momentarily even though the predatory desire never left her gaze.

"I'll be gentle," she said, although her licked lips hinted her patience had limitations. She spat into her palm, then gently brushed the saliva along her length to cover it with improvised lubricant. Ben's body surged with heat as he saw her hand go up and down her magnificent cock, dispersing the moisture that glistened in the low light of his bedroom.

Ava went through the procedure again, collecting more saliva in her lips before allowing it to trickle straight into his bare anus. His body jerked at the close touch, the warm wetness making him gasp. Her fingers followed, distributing the liquid across his puckered entrance, then gently inserting one digit within to get him ready.

She said, "Relax for me," moving her finger in soft circles to progressively release the tight ring of muscle. "Just like last time."

Ben inhaled deeply, deliberately loosening his body as Ava withdrew her finger and positioned herself more solidly between his legs. She bent her knees slightly, dropping her hips to align the head of her cock with his prepared entrance. One hand directed her length to push more firmly into him while the other braced his leg on her shoulder.

"Ready?" she murmured, her chest flushed with excitement and her breath accelerating quickly.

Ben nodded, his own breath light with expectancy. "Yes."

Ava pushed ahead, the head of her cock looking for access generating pressure. His body automatically battled the intrusion, then gave a quick turn as the tip passed the narrow ring of muscle. Ben yelped, a stinging intense pain despite preparedness.

He gasped, his hands shooting to her hips to block her advance. "Stop, stop."

Ava stopped right away, worry sweeping across her hot face. "too much?"

"Just... give me a second," Ben said, his body adjusting to the assault and his breathing under control. The first ache went away after many deep breaths, replaced by a fullness not quite uncomfortable. "Okay, give it another go. But use more spit."

She withdrew gently, and the head of her cock slid free and made him wince. More saliva followed, a primitive but effective lubricant that she applied liberally to herself and to him. Though less strong, the extra wetness smoothed out the entrance as she thrust ahead once again.

Ben's body gave more easily this time, embracing the head of her cock with less resistance. Ava moved with great control, making little, shallow pushes working her deeper by increments. Her great length was pushed a trifle deeper within each forward move, progressively stretching him until he felt crammed full; his breath came in short, gasping breaths.

"Oh god," he moaned as she reached approximately halfway, her thickness creating a burning stretch that walked the knife's edge between pain and pleasure. "That is... that is so deep."

"You're taking me so well," Ava said, her own voice strained with effort toward restraint. Her skin glowed in the faint light from a tiny sheen of perspiration, beads building between her breasts and down her hairline. "Does it feel good?"

"Yes," Ben admitted, surprised by how true it was. The first ache had evolved into something more complicated--a fullness that pushed on areas inside him sending surprising pleasure across his neurological system. "Deeper. Please."

The request seemed to ignite something in Ava. Her lips parted in almost feral a grin, her eyes darkened with want. "Fuck, I love how much you want my cock. Love fucking you in the ass."

Ben flushed at the simple words, but they also sent a surge of excitement through him that showed up as his own cock twitching against his gut. Ava laughed, a throaty cry of victory as she grabbed his hips more tightly and pushed farther, her pelvis at last making contact with his ass as she hilted herself totally inside him.

They both moaned at the sensation of complete connection. She stopped momentarily so he may get used to her whole length. She then started to move in earnest, retreating back till only the head stayed within before pushing on once more. Each thrust created a wet, slapping sound as her hips met the flesh of his ass, the obscene soundtrack to their coupling punctuated by their increasingly vocal pleasure.

"Harder," Ben urged, surprised by his own boldness. "I can take it."

Ava needed no further encouragement. Her hips pistoning into him with enough force to move the mattress under them, she raised both tempo and force. Now running freely between her breasts and down her temples, sweat bounced with every strong push. Her abdomen's firm muscles and the great intensity in her eyes revealed the focused effort of fucking him.

Ben gasped, the words pouring from him without conscious thought. "I love your fat cock. Love how you fill me up."

"Fuck yeah," Ava said, her cadence stuttering momentarily at his words before picking back up fresh energy.

She moved suddenly, sinking herself onto him while keeping their connection. The movement pushed his knees nearly to his ears, folding him almost in half as she covered his body with her own. Her weight fixed him to the mattress; the altered angle let her pass through him even more than before. She encircled him totally, her perfume filling his nose, her breath hot on his face as she kissed him firmly. The position felt both vulnerable and intimate.

With every thrust, her breasts rubbed against his chest, wet with sweat that flowed over his skin. Their bodies moved in a primitive beat, their borrowed lubrication--saliva and pre-cum--created shockingly wet noises filling the room. Ben's hands found her ass, urging her deeper, his fingers digging into the flesh as she drove into him again and again.

As their excitement intensified, their kiss become dirtier and more urgent. Ava's breathing grew more raspy, her thrusts more erratic--qualities Ben now identified as her nearing climax. He felt an unanticipated satisfaction knowing he could lead her to this point and that his body could give her such pleasure.

"I want you to come inside me," he whispered against her lips, the words a revelation even to himself. "Please, Ava. Fill me."

She moaned in answer, her motions becoming wild. "I'm close," she panted, her forehead pressed against his, their sweat mingling. "So close. You want it?"

"Yes," Ben urged, catching her mouth in another kiss that absorbed her growing pleasurable shouts.

Ava's body became stiff against his with a last, strong shove. Her cock pulsed powerfully inside him as the first jet of her release erupted, flooding his insides with hot, wet heat. Far more than any biological man could generate, the sheer volume continued coming--pulse after pulse filling him beyond capacity until it had nowhere to go but out, pouring around her still-throbbing shaft and into the bedsheets below.

"Ben," she whispered, his name a prayer on her lips as her orgasm persisted. With each new spurt, she pushed back inside him, extending her pleasure and his, creating sloppy, wet sounds that should have been obscene but somehow weren't.

Ava fell completely on him as the intensity of her climax started to fade; her body shook with aftershocks, her cock still buried deep inside him albeit slowly fading. Her kisses softer now, almost reverent, as copious volumes of her cum continued to seep from where they were united, producing a warm, spreading pool underneath them. She sought his lips once more.

"That was... Ben started but words eluded him. His body felt used in the finest conceivable manner, mildly ached and completely claimed.

"Yeah," Ava agreed, understanding his meaning without needing the words. She brushed a sweat-dampened strand of hair from his forehead, the tender gesture a stark contrast to the raw intensity of moments before.

Their bodies cooling in the wake of passion, their breathing progressively returning to normal, they lay together in comfortable stillness for some minutes. Ava finally moved, allowing a fresh flow of her semen to flee as she gently turned away from him.

"So," she continued, looking down at the mess they had created of his bed and a cheeky sparkle returning to her eyes. "I could really eat a burger right now."

Ben watched her for a beat before they both burst into laughing; the ridiculous quip precisely broke the tension of the moment. Her body shook with laughter as she slumped next to him, and he turned to plant another kiss on her, tasting the salt of their effort on her lips.

Feeling lighter than he had in years, he said, "Me too," as they at last separated. "Though I suppose I should start with a shower."

Ava's finger traced a lazy pattern through the cooling evidence of their passion on his stomach. "Shower together?" she said, her smile suggesting that their evening was far from finished.