Out of Breath (Exposed Series Book 2) Page 6

  And I don’t know why, but the gift of nakedness seems different when it comes from a woman. Or at least I always found it more intimate than when a man drops trou in front of you and is like, right, your turn. Cause even he knows the female body is the real miracle. Or that’s what I always thought anyway. Even before Lydia.

  Lydia was a Spanish girl I dated for a few weeks one summer when I was living in Spain in my twenties. She was openly bisexual, and while I knew I preferred men, I was open-minded. So when she hit on me at the bar after I’d had several carafes of cheap red wine, flirting with her seemed like the most natural thing in the world.

  And so did kissing her. And so did going back to her apartment.

  I was surprisingly shy and hesitant the first time. It would be fair to say my gay bark was far more believable than my bite. But she was gentle with me. And I think knowing we had all the same parts made me feel like I could trust her.

  So it was different than hooking up with a guy. After all, even with men, I could be naked and still hide. But I couldn’t do that with Lydia. Once I was naked with her, there was nothing to do except be present. Which I did by trying to figure out if all her parts worked like mine did, if she would respond to the things that made me feel good.

  And she did. And it was an enjoyable few weeks.

  Naturally, I was buzzing for a while after my foray into lesbian love. I used to imagine that someday, after I’d entertained all the men I cared to sleep with, I would settle down with a woman. I imagined that we would have a deep bond that was much more than what I believed was possible with a man. There would be no roles to fill, no speaking different languages. My final years would be filled with mutual understanding, love, and gentle caresses.

  It might’ve worked out that way, too, if I didn’t like getting railed by cock so much. I could never give it up. Not unless I had to. Which, for the first time in my life, I could actually imagine happening.

  After all, I was becoming weaker by the day. More achy, wheezier. Even my appetite for food was decreasing which meant anything was possible.

  But I must’ve had some appetite left because all that thinking about Lydia really made me want a tongue on my snatch.

  So as soon as the drawing class was over, I walked out of the art studio and pulled out my phone.

  “Where are you?” I texted.

  “On my way to pick you up?”

  “59th and LaSalle.”

  “Five minutes.”

  Four and a half minutes later, Craig pulled up in his beamer and rolled the window down. “I’d started to worry you weren’t going to call?”

  I slid into the front seat. “You’re so needy,” I said, flicking my hair over my shoulders. “But thanks for coming to get me.”

  “I take where are you texts very seriously.”

  I smiled. Years ago, “where are you” had become our unofficial booty call code.

  “Where to?” he asked, pulling back into traffic. “My place or yours?”

  “Yours,” I said.

  “You okay? You seem flushed or something?”

  “I’m fine, I just… I just came from a nude drawing class.”

  “Seriously?” His ball busting lawyer vibe disappeared.

  I nodded. “So I’m a little worked up.”

  His face lit up like a teenage boy who’s just seen Pamela Andersen jog down the beach for the first time.

  “Tell me you were the model.”

  “I wasn’t,” I said, nudging him. “But I’ll sit for you if you want?”

  He smiled and loosened his tie. “That sounds amazing. I’m game.”

  I ran my hand along his leather console. The car still smelled brand new.

  “But I should warn you, I can’t draw for shit.”

  “That’s okay,” I said, my eyes straight ahead. “You won’t need your hands for what I have planned.”

  His elevator was packed with the city’s highest paid young talent. Craig was in the back corner behind me. Everyone was doing their best to avoid eye contact. So when two guys by the door started talking about a new microbrewery outside the city, everyone focused on them. Except me. I focused on fondling Craig’s cock through his suit pants.

  When we got off the elevator, he put his hands on my hips and kept me directly in front of him as we pushed our way out so he wouldn’t be discovered. It was all I could do not to burst out laughing.

  “You are bad,” he said, opening his apartment door for me.

  I shrugged.

  “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “I think I’m okay,” I said, noticing his tent was still very much pitched.

  “Good cause I’m going to need you to get naked immediately.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You said you would sit for me, right? Otherwise I wouldn’t have brought you back here.”

  I was suddenly aware of my heart beat.

  He walked right up to me and looked down. “So strip.”

  I pulled off my shirt.

  He nodded.

  I unhooked my bra and watched his eyes follow each strap as they fell off my shoulders. Then I tossed my bra to the side.

  His hands started for my boobs like they were magnetized.

  “Ahh-ahh. No touching,” I said. “Not yet.”

  His forehead wrinkled with frustration as I unzipped my pants, pulled them off with my panties, and stepped out of my shoes. Then I looked at him defiantly, turned around, and walked over to the large leather couch. And like the model in the class, I lay down on my side and draped myself over a pillow.

  He swallowed.

  “Your turn,” I said.

  Without looking away from me, he put his jacket on the coatrack behind him. His eyes swept my body as he walked towards me and unbuttoned his shirt, revealing a chest so toned my mouth watered.

  He didn’t stop until he was right in front of me. Then he started undoing his belt. I watched his thick cock spring up against his belly.

  I licked my lips.

  He braced his arms on the back of the couch and put one knee up beside me so he could lower his dick until it was within my reach.

  I started by wrapping a hand around him and licking the underside of his shaft, dragging my tongue slowly from the base to the tip. But I didn't take him in my mouth right away. Instead, I returned to where I’d started and fondled his balls gently with one hand before sucking one into my mouth.

  He groaned with enthusiasm as I swirled my tongue. Then the moment I released him, he pulled back just enough that he could thrust his dick in my mouth.

  I felt him pushing against the back of my throat. I could tell how hard it was for him to maintain control, how hard it was for him to keep himself from becoming unhinged and fucking my mouth so hard I wouldn’t be able to keep up. But he didn’t. He kept it slow. Until he couldn’t anymore.

  That’s when he pulled out and moved over me. I got a glimpse of his wet cock just before he dragged it against the length of my body, trailing it slowly between my breasts and over my belly. It was like he was drawing, like he was an artist after all.

  Then he pushed my thighs apart with such force I knew he was hungry for me. I watched him lower his head between my legs and held my breath.

  He wrapped his hands around the front of my thighs and pulled towards his face. I let my head roll towards the ceiling and arched my back as he pressed his tongue flat against my clit.

  First he licked me in slow waves, causing the energy to drain from my limbs. Then his tongue became a pointed wand, casting circular spells that left me dripping. After that he ate me with enthusiasm. Just like I taught him to do the day we met in my office, the first time I forced his head down between my legs.

  Soon I was begging him not to stop, and he didn’t. Instead, he fucked me with his tongue even harder until it grew so intense my words turned to moans. When I began to shake and spasm, he pushed his mouth against me and drank so greedily I thought I heard a slurp.

  Just
when I’d nearly caught my breath, he plunged his dick deep inside me. But I was so wet and hot it didn’t take long for him to collapse in a heap on top of me. And as he panted against my neck, I used my last bit of energy to grind my hips against him, to squeeze him of every last drop.

  Afterwards, we just laid there for a while, stuck together and reveling in our own nakedness. And as his heavy chest expanded against mine, I felt so satisfied. So full.

  It was in that moment that I realized I loved him. Not in the true-love-soul-mate kind of way, but in the way I loved anyone that made me feel alive, anyone that ever shared something with me whether it was mind blowing sex, a secret, or a contagious laugh.

  And it wasn’t just Craig I loved in that moment either. It was the whole world. And even though it was probably just the oxytocin, for a moment, I felt like the whole world loved me back.

  I just hoped it wouldn’t be the last time.

  Chapter 11: Kate

  The food court was packed that Saturday. And as usual, I was preoccupied with wondering how many of the other customers were hiding a secret like mine. How many of them were hiding the fact that for them, eating was an anxiety ridden activity filled with doubt, stress, and confusion?

  My latest strategy was to try and eat like Dawn: really, really slowly. I thought if I focused on one bite at a time, I might be able to avoid taking one bite too many and feeling like shit for the rest of the day.

  Basically, it was the opposite of how I ate in a binge where I just shoveled food in as fast as I could. To be honest, the only reason I even stopped to chew when I was binging was because I knew the food was going to have to come up again.

  Dawn and I were sitting near the window overlooking the parking lot with our double order of pulled pork sandwiches and ridiculously tasty sweet potato fries. Left to my own devices with access to undisturbed bathroom time, I definitely would’ve gotten the large meal. But I couldn’t count on having a chance to purge anymore so I just got the regular size like she did.

  I watched Dawn wipe the corners of her mouth and sit back for a second. She had demolished every bite of her meal which she hardly ever did.

  “That was filling,” she said, admiring the pile of crumpled, sauce covered napkins in front of her.

  “Agreed,” I said, popping the last crispy fry in my mouth.

  She stood up.

  I started putting the trash on our tray.

  “Wait here,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”

  I watched her get in line at the ice cream place and started to panic. Ice cream was a major trigger food for me. I had never been able to eat it in reasonable quantities or without extreme guilt. I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped that when I opened them I would see that it wasn’t actually her in line there, but it was in vain.

  I dumped our trash in a nearby garbage can and stacked the plastic red tray on top. By the time I’d walked back to our table, I was even more sure that I was full, that my stomach was somewhere between empty and stuffed. Which was a nice feeling and one I was having a lot more lately.

  After all, my stomach had started to shrink now that I wasn’t stretching it to capacity every day. So it didn’t take thousands of calories in disgusting marathon eating sessions for me to fill it up anymore. Which felt like real progress.

  So when I saw Dawn returning with the Jumbo Dumbo Ice Cream Cup- the one they advertised as the menu item for elephant sized ice cream cravings- I was pissed.

  When she set it down I noticed that there were two spoons sticking out of the gallon sized mountain of cold cream. It was hard to believe I’d ever eaten a whole one by myself. On more than one occasion. How disgusting was I? It made me cringe to look at it now, especially in front of Dawn. Not that she knew I’d ever eaten a whole one myself. Nobody knew that but me.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Dawn said.

  “I thought you were full?”

  “I am.”

  “So why did you get this?”

  “I thought it might taste nice,” she said. “And I’m trying to prove a point here.”

  “Of course you are.”

  “So hear me out.”

  I nodded. I was sort of used to her going off on her rants by then. And I much preferred her rants about food to the ones about the merits of masturbation. Though it was still a mystery why Dawn’s preaching didn’t annoy me the way my Mother’s did.

  I think part of it was that hearing her opinions was still a novelty. Plus, I was in no position to turn down free professional help.

  I watched as a drip of vanilla ice cream formed at the top of the dessert and sat on my hands.

  She looked around to confirm that everyone near us was absorbed in their own conversations before turning back to me. “So.”

  “So.”

  “So one of the problems with growing up is that you have to learn to overcome your own urges.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Which is useful when you need to be disciplined. Like if you really want to take a nap, but it’s the middle of the workday, or if you have a wedgie, but you just painted your nails,” she said, scraping a small bite of ice cream onto her spoon and holding it in the air in front of her.

  “Right. Got it.”

  “But you should never ignore the signals your body gives you that tell you when you’re hungry or full. Does that make sense?”

  “Sure.”

  “Have you ever not eaten even though you were hungry?”

  “Of course.”

  “And you’ve eaten when you weren’t hungry or when you were already full before?”

  She knew I had. I was awesome at that.

  “Right. Well, you need to learn to pay attention to how your stomach feels and let that inform the decisions you make up here,” she said, pointing to her head.

  I nodded.

  “Let me give you a different example.” She popped a bite of ice cream in her mouth. “Then we’ll do an experiment.”

  I crossed my arms.

  “Imagine a potty training toddler.”

  “Okay.”

  “Think about how crazy it must be for a little baby to learn to recognize its own body’s signals so it can predict when it will have to use the bathroom.”

  “Intense.”

  “Right?” she said. “Well in order for you to heal your relationship with food, you have to be just as interested in listening to your body.”

  I pursed my lips.

  “And if you listen, it will tell you all kinds of things like when you’re hungry, thirsty, tired, or full. It will even tell you when you are craving something specific, like red meat or vegetables or-”

  “I get it.”

  “Okay, good. Pick up your spoon.”

  I sighed. I really didn’t want any ice cream. I hadn’t even had a chance to estimate how many calories were in the meal I just ate yet.

  “Now. Did you know that as you become fuller, food starts to taste less good with every bite?”

  I squinted at her. “Maybe some foods,” I said. “But ice cream is ice cream. It always tastes good.”

  “It always tastes good, sure, but the second bite is never as good as the first, and the third is never as good as the second and so on.”

  “Are you trying to trick me into eating all this ice cream?”

  “No. Definitely not.”

  “Good.”

  “I just want you to take a few bites and pay attention to how each bite tastes a little different.”

  I looked back and forth between her and the melting opposition.

  “A few bites?”

  She nodded. “Think you can do that?”

  “I guess.” I decided to give her the benefit of the doubt. After all, she hadn’t steered me wrong yet.

  Her eyes were fixed on me as I took my first small bite.

  It was totally creamy and delicious. A positive taste explosion! I was looking forward to my second bite.

  It was delicious! No less delicious in fact! Sh
e was crazy. I could practically feel the happy chemicals firing in my brain.

  I took the third bite, letting the ice cream coat my tongue and cool my throat. It was still tasty, but I was expecting more.

  I furrowed my brow and took a fourth bite. It was still ice cream. Yummy. Worth writing a song about. But it wasn’t the first bite. It was missing a little something.

  I took one more bite to be sure. Just in case the fourth bite was a fluke. But it wasn’t. There was no doubt that the fifth bite wasn’t as good as the first or second.

  “Huh.” I stared at my clean spoon.

  “Well?” Dawn cocked her head.

  “Five bites. Maybe even four before the amazing taste faded a bit.” I was surprised. I didn’t even want anymore, especially now that I knew my best bites were behind me.

  “Now that happened pretty quickly because you’re already full from our meal.”

  “Yeah.”

  “But that will always happen. No matter what you’re eating. So if you really taste your food and listen to your body, you won’t feel as compelled to overeat.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever stopped eating ice cream after five bites.”

  “You can have more if you want.”

  “No, I’m good,” I said, looking at the softening pile of sweetness. “Even though it seems like such a waste. I mean, there’s so much there.”

  “Kate.” Dawn locked her eyes on mine.

  “What?”

  “There will always be more.”

  “What?”

  “There will always be more food than you want or need, and it is never your last chance to eat something.”

  “That’s the opposite of how I think when I’m binging.”

  She nodded.

  I lowered my voice. “When I binge I always tell myself it’s the last time. So I feel like I have to eat as much as I can because it’s my only chance.”