I turned around once again to face the counter. Tammy was lifting the chain and beckoning me in.
“Back there?”
“Quick,” said Tammy. “We’re gonna watch her together.”
Before the unusual scene playing out earlier had been interrupted by Ellen’s arrival, I’d been hoping I might rendezvous with Tammy somewhere sexy after work—as absurd as the prospect seemed to my more rational self. But I certainly hadn’t planned on teaming up with her at breakfast time to salivate over my poor ex-girlfriend.
Yet, at that moment, it didn’t occur to me not to do what Tammy asked. And so, an instant later, I stood just to her left in the narrow area between the counter and the unseen hinterland of the deli’s stockroom.
“Her tits aren’t bad, either,” Tammy promptly observed. “Don’t you think your Ellen Sanderson has nice, soft-looking tits, professor?”
She was being very casual about unbuttoning my fly. And then she was equally casual about placing her hand inside my trousers. She began to pet my cock through my shorts, as if absentmindedly.
I, on the other hand, did not feel remotely calm or collected. My face was hot, and I was squirming involuntarily, though pleasantly. I felt dirty, but undeniably aroused.
“Yes, she does,” I hissed.
And so she did. However, I’d noticed that Tammy had lovely breasts, too; and I turned my head now to admire the way they’d begun heaving while she stroked me. I gave myself an extended moment to appreciate this sight, conscious of the paradoxical transgression of cheating on Tammy by looking at her instead of at Ellen.
Then I turned back to the picturesque spectacle of Ellen, book, and breakfast in profile, backlit by the Miami sun. I couldn’t see below Ellen’s waist—and yet below her waist, as before, was where my mind settled.
“Say it,” said Tammy, her eyes never leaving the window.
“Say . . . what?”
“What you’re thinking about her. Now’s your chance to use those seminar words, professor. I want to hear what’s going through that big academic brain of yours.”
“I—”
“And, by the way, what happened to your hands? Don’t you want to smooth the seat of my jeans, professor? Don’t you want to slap my ass or something? I hope I didn’t waste your time by inviting you back here.”
The unfurling flesh beneath her left palm was my reply—followed, a moment later, by a playful, vigorous slap on the right cheek of her out-thrust bottom, where my own right hand subsequently remained.
“Yeah!” said Tammy. “Now give me some subtitles for this movie we’re watching.”
And so, as Ellen nibbled her muffin, I plunged in. In essence, I was picking up where I’d left off when I ogled her earlier. That meditation, in retrospect, appeared to have been a rehearsal for my present effort.
I used my “seminar words” for Tammy, and my most polished public-speaking voice. “I’d like to suggest, Tammy, that Ellen is pressing her thighs together under the table. H
er libido has been engaged by something. We might suppose, for example, that she’s reading an erotic passage in that book.”
I took a deep breath. I was quite accustomed to talking in front of a group, and quite accustomed to indulging in sexual fantasies—but I was not at all accustomed to combining the two.
“Keep it coming.” Tammy was definitely an appreciative audience when I gave her what she wanted.
“Yes,” I continued, “Ellen is horny this morning—as horny as we are.” I didn’t necessarily believe this, but it was the narrative that we were both depending on. “Her luxurious pussy is so slippery, so tingly.”
Tammy growled like a velvet-coated motor as I rubbed her rear pocket. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her rip open the top button of her jeans.
“I believe that Ellen won’t be able to relax—be able even to sit still—until she’s awarded herself a vivid orgasm.”
“ ‘Vivid,’ ” Tammy repeated. “That’s nice.” Her free hand buried itself inside her fly, popping additional buttons on the way in.
“So as soon as Ellen has finished her breakfast, she’s going to face the inevitable, Tammy. She’ll postpone her parents’ errands and hasten home.”
Tammy chortled. “No one says ‘hasten.’ ” But her fingers continued to grow more insistent in my pants.
“She’ll lock the door to her room and draw the curtains.”