Once we reach the building, we climb the five floor walk-up to their apartment door. I am squeezed in between them and I notice that the door has a cool, Art Deco frosted glass panel that is unusual for this neighborhood. Tasha removes her key from her clutch, I reach over her arm to stroke the glass pane – it feels cool to the touch and the texture is rough. I imagine my ass cheeks being pressed against it from the other side. I want to be ground into it by Jon’s famous thrust that Tasha speaks so highly of. And I hope desperately for this to be part of Tasha’s vision.
The lock unclicks and Tasha jiggles open the door. Jon hits the switch for some dim rosy lighting. Inside there is an expansive open space that ends with a wall of windows. The ceilings are high and the brick walls are painted over in a thick, glossy, white finish. The brushed gold fixtures are sleek and pop out in the form of mirror frames, lamp heads, and metal hanging wall plates. It has a decadent modernistic flare coupled with understated bohemian charm.
An emerald green velvet couch invites me over, and when I lean into the center of a woollen fuschia pillow, Tasha kneels between my legs to part them open. She shimmies up my dress so that it is above my waist. My black G-String is wet from my moisture that had been building up since the bar. She pulls it over to the side and tugs gently. She knows just where to make the strappy string catch on to my clit and with just the right pressure. I begin to squirm as I lift and open my knees even higher up to my chest. I toss my head back and let out a moan only to see Jon looking down from the top. He takes my face and leans in close “I cannot wait to taste you. You are so fucking gorgeous.” he says barely audible.
