"Don't make fun of me. I'm serious."
"I know you're serious, but don't you think we ought to take things one at a time? We can dream all we want about Italy or medical school or being President of the United States and his charming First Lady, but when all the dreaming's over we have to come back to the real world. In the real world we both work for Jay Snyder, and I don't see any way out of that. I don't see any way at all."
Her words brought Tim back down to earth. She was right – all the dreaming in the world couldn't change the facts. They were stuck, and stuck they would remain unless some miracle happened. "There has to be a way," Tim said almost under his breath. "There just has to be a way."
"Maybe there is," Judy said, "but I can't see it. Not now, anyway."
"No, not now. But someday."
Judy had propped one of her oversized pillows up against the couch, was leaning back on it, her drink beside her on the floor. Her black hair lay loose on the pillow, spreading out around her like a mane. Tim ran his eyes along her face, down her neck to her shoulders, and then down to those voluptuous breasts. Judy felt herself stir under his gaze, felt his eyes burn paths in her skin. When they came to rest on her breasts, Judy could feel them almost as if they were hands; her nipples began to harden, pushing out against the soft fabric of her blouse. Then Tim's eyes moved again, to her bare stomach – she imagined his fingertips brushing gently against the sensitive skin of her belly, going back and forth, creating little stirrings in her abdomen. Oh, she wanted him to touch her, to move his hands all over her, to feel the strength in his fingers as he made the flames of her desire burn higher and higher, faster and faster. She could see the rising bulge in his trousers, and she had an impulse to go to him, to free his aching cock from its confines, to stroke it with both hands, to feel it throb and pulse under her touch.
She got up, crossed the room and knelt in front of Tim where he stood. She let her hands lie loosely at her sides while she ran her lips along his legs, grazing him lightly. She moved her head slowly, making her lips slide up and down his legs, drawing lines and circles, lines and circles.
"Mmmm," Tim murmured. "Mm-mm-mm. Very nice."
Slowly, ever so slowly, Judy brought her lips up to the base of Tim's cock, feeling it pulse through his trousers. She opened her mouth, let her teeth describe the borders of his prick, nibbled along its outstretched length – the size of it surprised her, frightening her a little at first, then excited her all the more. She had to have that prick, Tim's prick, inside her, had to feel his hot juices squirting through her insides. She had been to bed with many men, but no one, not even Tom, had made her feel this way, as if she would explode if she wasn't satisfied right then.
She pulled away, realizing that her body was going too fast for her. She wanted to take it slowly, to draw it out as long as possible, to savor every minute of their love-making, every sensation, every tiny movement of their bodies. She had only been in love once before, and then had been too inexperienced to make sex as pleasurable as she knew it could be; this time she was going to do it right. At least, she thought, being a prostitute is good for something.
Tim knelt down, took her face in his hands. "What's wrong," he said. "Why did you stop? I was just starting to enjoy it."
"Good," she said, smiling. "If you enjoyed it then, just think how much you're going to enjoy it when we really get started."
"Oh, the previews, is that it?"
Judy laughed. "That's it," she said.
"OK, but let's not wait too long for the main attraction. I don't think my heart could take it, let alone those other parts of me."
Judy laughed again. It was nice to have a man with a sense of humor, who saw sex as a game, something to be played with instead of taken as a matter of life and death. It was going to be good, very good.
Tim went in the kitchen, began mixing more drinks. "Get ready," he said, "because you are about to have a unique experience. You're going to taste your first Brooklyn Bomber."
Judy joined him in the kitchen, stood just behind him with her hands behind her back, standing up on tiptoe to see over his shoulder. "Before I drink this thing," she said, "I'm going to have to know what's in it."
Tim bent over, blocked the blender from view with his body. "Sorry," he said. "Ingredients can be revealed only to Brooklynites and a few selected certified aliens. Could I see your passport please?"
Judy put her hand on Tim's shoulder, spun him around, and planted a quick kiss on his mouth. As she tried to break away, Tim grabbed her.
"Customs inspection," he said, and gathered Judy in for a long, lingering kiss. Her tongue played along his teeth, tickled the roof of his mouth, investigated the underside of his lips. When their tongues met a sensation of sparks passed between them. Tim ran his hand down her back, massaged the soft rounded flesh of her buttocks. Judy began to moan. "Take me, Tim," she said. "Take me now."
Tim stepped back. "Now?" he said. "Before dinner?"
Judy smiled. "OK," she said, "let's get on with this Brooklyn Bomber. Did I pass the inspection?"
"The gold star seal of approval." He turned back to the blender. "Now," he said, "as to this Brooklyn Bomber – start with half a glass of vodka, half a glass of orange juice…"
"A screwdriver," she said. "Very appropriate."
"Not a screwdriver. A Brooklyn Bomber. Now listen carefully: a sprig of mint, two cloves, half a teaspoon of nutmeg. Mix it up…" he turned on the blender, letting it whir until the drink foamed, then quickly turning it off. "… pour…" he filled two glasses with the foamy orange drink, "… and taste."
Judy raised the glass to her lips, took a cautious sip, put the glass back down. "Very good. How far is Brooklyn?"
Tim made a face. "Not far enough," he said. "Not far enough. This drink was the only good thing that ever came out of that place; that and the Dodgers."
"You came from there," Judy said softly. "You're a good thing."
"Am I? Yeah, maybe I am. Maybe now I finally am." He took Judy in his arms, held her close. What a woman, he thought. She really does make me feel like I'm worth something, like I can do anything I want if I try hard enough. He pressed her closer, felt her cool breath on his neck, her silky hair against his face, her hands on his back. They stood there like that for a few moments, feeling one another's heartbeats, then Judy began to gently roll her hips, to press her thighs hard against him. Tim's penis began to rise slowly.
He slipped his hand underneath her blouse, began massaging the smooth skin of her back, moving his hand in slow, lazy circles. He was pleased and surprised to discover that she wasn't wearing a bra, that her breasts stood up as they did with no help from the lingerie industry. Feeling her bare back where the bra strap should have been excited Tim even more; he could feel the hot semen gurgling in his balls, straining against his scrotum, begging for release. "Not yet," he told his body. "Not yet. Be patient."
He began to run his fingernail along her spine, gently, starting at the base of her neck and moving slowly down to the tip of her tail-bone. "Mmmmf," Judy said, responding by gradually increasing the rolling motion of her hips. Every time Tim ran his fingernail down her spine she ground her lower body into his, feeling his half-hard prick rub against the hairs on her pussy. Her tailbone was like the switch to a furnace – every time he touched her there the flames of desire rose inside her.
Tim's hands were all over her now, massaging the cheeks of her ass, defining her sides, her waist, her hips, investigating, questioning, deciding. They seemed to have a will of their own, those hands, as if they were operating solely under their own power, choosing their route according to some secret knowledge that was entirely lost to the brain. They wandered over the hills and valleys of her body, bringing excitement and longing wherever they went. Her mind was shutting down now, words and thoughts were leaving her alone with a passion that increased with every move of Tim's wonderful hands.