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What will an English girl find in Queensland to keep her?
I was thinking dinner. Tonight."
I rolled the idea over in my head. Boy, that could be dangerous. But fun. I looked over at Jessica. "Okay. But you'll have to help me cook."
"I can do that."
"All right. Why don't you meet me at my apartment at seven tonight? I'll give you directions."
"I don't need directions, actually. I already know where you live."
"Don't worry," she laughed. "I saw it on an envelope on your desk."
"Okay. I'll cancel the restraining order, then. ... You're not a vegetarian or anything like that, are you?"
"I thought we'd established that I'm a man-eater."
"... and a woman-eater, too, apparently." I shot her a grin.
"Shut up!" she laughed. "I bare my soul to you, and you make wisecracks about it?"
"I'm sorry, Jess. Can I make it up to you in sexual favors?"
"Promises, promises. You know, it seems to me that you still owe me a massage."
"I suppose I do. Can we make it another day, though? I wouldn't want you to start off the evening sore."
"Oh. Were you planning on giving me a thorough workout after dinner?"
"I was thinking that might happen, yes."
"Good." She looked at me with an air of contentment. "Good."
We ran on for a bit in silence.
"Oh, Jess -- I'd been meaning for the last couple of days to run something by you. What do you think about running the 880 instead of the mile?"
She hesitated before answering. "I don't know. Why do you ask?"
"I think you can make nationals in the 880."
"But not in the mile?"
"But not in the mile."
"Who will be your miler?"
"Rebecca Clark, I think. That was her event in high school. Respectable times, too."
"Are you saying that you don't think I can go the distance?" She gave me a look and I laughed.
"Are we still talking about running?"
Before I could respond, we'd reached the end of the three-mile course. I hadn't realized it until then, but Rebecca Clark had finished faster than Jessica and I did, something I noted to myself. The rest of the girls straggled in, and we disbanded for the day, with me giving Jessica a nod to discretely acknowledge our appointment that night.
* * * * * *
Just before seven, my doorbell rang. Jessica was wearing a pleated charcoal skirt and a pink sleeveless knit blouse. She was lightly made up and carrying a small suitcase. Without a word, she stepped into my apartment, set her bag down, and embraced me. I bent down slightly and hoisted her up by her hips, nudging the door shut in the process. She wrapped her legs around me and we locked lips for a long moment. Then she held my lower jaw in her hand and pulled away for a moment, looking me in the eyes.
"Hi," I said in a squeaky voice, feigning nervousness and laughing. She kissed the corner of my mouth, my cheekbone, my eyelid. "Well, if you'd like to hop down," I told her, "I'll give you the grand tour."
She held my head between her hands and leaned away to look at me. "No way. The last time I let go of you, you slipped away."
She pulled herself back close to me and nuzzled my ear, sending a spasm of pleasure through me. There was no need to fake nervousness now: "Oookay -- let's go straight to the bedroom." I slid my hands under her skirt and found that she had foregone wearing anything underneath. I started feeling a little wobbly with excitement. I sought her lips with mine and kissed her hard, stumbling toward the bedroom with her latched onto me.
I deposited her as gently as I could on my bed and started kissing her neck, which she arched back to give me better access. I pulled the bottom of her blouse out of the waist of her skirt and, sliding my hands underneath and along her skin, lifted it over her head and off of her arms, which she raised in order to aid the effort. We quickly cooperated in making her bra disappear, too, and I fell hungrily upon her smallish but full breasts and her brown-red nipples and areolas.
She arched her back below me and reached underneath herself to unzip her skirt, which I slid off of her in one motion as she raised her legs in front of me.