Tommy and Keda were finally both asleep again, curled up at right angles to each
other on the bed, tiny little breathing bundles. Pat lay next to her children,
warm and lovely in a flannel nightshirt, dozing against the pillows, her hand on
Tommy's back. I sat, sprawled, in the armchair, yawning.

"Let's go for a walk!" Julie's whisper was quiet but bright. She stood in the
bedroom doorway, a black leather jacket over her pale t-shirt, a short black
skirt just covering the tops of her thighs, kneesocks and loafers.

"I was thinking of getting a little sleep," I said, pitifully. Julie just tilted
her head to one side and stood there looking at me. Her mouth curved upward
slightly.

We took the elevator down to the lobby and went out into the street. It was a
cold, clear night, very late, and the jacket I'd grabbed on the way out the door
was just barely warm enough. Julie put her arm through mine, and as we walked in
a companionable silence I felt the warmth of her body on my skin. We went around
the block, walking briskly, the glass of the dark store windows reflecting cold
into the air.

We walked down Tenth Street and into the park. The streetlights seemed
unnaturally bright, the air around them utterly dark. Probably lack of sleep; I
felt not quite there, not quite sober, slightly detached from myself. It was
quiet in the park, and I could hear Julie breathing beside me, her legs moving
against her clothes as we walked.

We stopped by a bench on the rise, far from the nearest streetlight, and turned
to look back at the colors of the city. She stood in front of me and leaned back
against me, drawing my arms forward around her. I squeezed her gently, feeling
the familiar shape of her body, breathing the clean warm smell of her hair. She
sighed. With one hand, I outlined her hip through her skirt. We stood for a long
time, just looking and listening. A police car sped by the edge of the park,
siren wailing. One small bright transparent cloud passed across the thin crescent
moon.

Julie shifted in my arms and put one foot up on the seat of the bench. I moved my
hand down from her hip and touched her leg.

"Will you respect me in the morning?" she murmured, putting her hand over mine.

"I didn't say a word."

"Mmmm..." She took a deep breath. I slipped my other hand under her jacket,
stroking her stomach through her t-shirt. "So many lights," she said, "so many
nice warm rooms, big soft beds."

"Adoring couples," I said into her hair, "sweating naked bodies."

"Pervert," she breathed. "They're not nearly naked yet. They've had a lovely
candlelight dinner, and now they're sitting in front of the fire, drinking wine
and looking at each other."

"Old married couple?" I asked.

"Acquaintances. Friends. Nice shy people who've finally had dinner together. She
likes his eyes. Sometimes she thinks about him when she masturbates. Right now
they're both really nervous."

A thousand windows faced us across the edge of the park, some dark, some bright,
some dim and yellow.

"Is she pretty?"

"They're both beautiful. People in love are always beautiful."

"I thought they were just friends." I moved my hand on Julie's leg, rubbing the
soft fabric of her skirt over her skin.

"They're falling in love over the wine. They aren't talking anymore, just looking
at the fire and looking at each other, realizing that there's no one else there
but them. Very excited. Wondering."

I squeezed Julie's thigh. "Are you excited?" She pressed her body back against
me.

"They're both afraid to talk again, now that it's so quiet. She wants him to
touch her, but she's afraid that she'll die if he does. His penis is stiff,
caught in his underpants, and he's afraid to move. She licks her lips, and now he
can't stop looking at her mouth."

I took my hand from Julie's leg and touched her cheek, tilted her head back on my
shoulder, kissed her softly on the lips. Her mouth was soft and utterly yielding,
and her eyes were closed. We kissed for a long time, gently, mouths closed. I
felt her body shudder in my arms.

"Will he make love to her?" I asked, my mouth by Julie's face.

"He puts his wineglass down," she whispered, "and puts out his hand. She smiles,
and her heart shakes, and she touches his hand with her fingers. He comes and
sits beside her, very close. She can smell his cologne, and she can feel her
blood flowing."

I put my hands on the outside of Julie's thighs, below the short skirt, and
slowly slid them upwards. Beneath her skirt her skin was warm and tender, smooth
and firm.

"He is kissing her, soft and shy, but she thinks she might be coming. He kisses
her again, and she takes his head in her hands and presses her mouth hard against
his. She wants to feel his tongue, wants to feel his hands on her bare skin, his
mouth on her nipples, wants to give up to him. She loses herself completely for
just a second, but then she sits up straight and smiles, and says she'd like some
more wine."

I slipped one hand forward and down, fingers just under the waistband of her
panties, touching the fine curly hair between her legs. Her voice got even
quieter; I could just hear her over the breeze and the sounds from the street.

"She watches him walk to the table and back. He hands her the wine and sits down.
Now when they smile at each other their eyes meet easily, and they know that
they're just seeing how long they can wait, and that soon they'll kiss each other
again."

My fingers moved lower, inside her panty, down between her legs. She moved her
knee aside and rocked her hips slightly, opening herself to me. I slowly stroked
her with one forefinger, just at the top of her vulva.

"Ooooohhh..." she breathed.

"Is this it?" I whispered in her ear.

"That's it," she replied, "that's exactly it. Ahhh..."

"Has he kissed her again?"

"She's put down her wineglass, and turned toward him just a little. She puts her
hands on his shoulders, proud of how bold she's being, and then their arms are
around each other and they're kissing and -- oooohhh that's it that's it -- and
finally his tongue is in her mouth and it tastes funny but she loves it loves
having it inside her loves his back broad under her hands and his arms around her
and his mouth on hers and ooooohhhh..."

My finger slipped down between her labia, around the warm wet opening of her
vagina. Her ass ground slowly against me as she moved on my hand. I asked her
questions.

"Does he touch her body while they kiss? Can he feel her nipples through her
dress, stiff and erect, and her breasts rising and falling faster when he kisses
her throat? Is her throat very long and soft and pale and bare? Is she as
beautiful as you?"

A car raced by on the street, bass booming from the radio. Julie stood silent,
moving against me, her breath coming faster, her mouth open. I slid one finger
deeper into her.

"Ahhhhhh..." she moaned, slowing her rocking, "oh don't make me come yet, don't
make me come for a long time just touch me and hold me..." and I touched her and
held her and her breathing calmed, my fingers still buried in her flesh but
barely moving. She sighed.

"Now they're both standing up, close together, not touching. He wants to take her
to the bedroom, but he's afraid again. She reaches out with one hand and touches
his hip, his stomach, his chest, and he can hardly breathe. She touches his face
and he catches her hand and kisses it very softly, and she gasps and she knows
she's never felt like this before, and he pulls her into his arms and she melts
under his mouth."

I put my other hand under Julie's coat again and stroked her small elegant
breasts through her shirt. Between her legs, her mons pressed against my palm.

"She doesn't know how they got to the bedroom, but he's helping her off with her
dress, and she's cold and nervous and she bites her lips but then his hands are
holding her breasts and he's kissing her again, telling her how beautiful she is,
and she strokes his penis where it's stiff against her hip and then she's under
him on the bed and when he rolls her panties off her legs open up wide and she
pulls him down onto her and kisses him and tongues his teeth and moans when his
body rubs against her. Oooooh, ooh please aaahhhh..."

Julie's breath was coming in gasps as my fingers moved more quickly inside her.
She put one hand down and squeezed my hand through her clothes, pressing me hard
against her and into her. In my pants, I felt a drop of wetness at the end of my
penis. I listened to her moans and looked out at the city, looked in at the
lovers through their window, her body finally naked under him, her legs spread.

"He's inside her now," Julie whispered, "he's inside her and it's good and sweet
and he tells her he loves her and she can't talk but her body tells him.
oooohhhhh... Her body moves her hips pressing up against him her breasts trapped
under him his mouth in her hair, aahhh touch me..."

"Do you want to come?" I asked her. She tilted her head back, eyes closed, and I
kissed her again. Her breath was sweet, and her body warm and quivering. The hot
slick grip of her body on my fingers tightened and loosened.

"She feels him swelling inside her so big. He whispers into her -- ooohhhhh yes
-- into her ear, and she aaaahhhh she feels herself clenching around him around
ooooohhhh and then he tells her to come and she aaaahhhh she comes COMES
ooooohhhh she OHH!"

And Julie came there in my arms in the park, rocking urgently against my hand, my
fingers deep inside her, her rear pushing and grinding against me, her face
beside mine, her long legs twitching and barely holding her up as orgasm engulfed
her and she moaned and screamed quietly into my ear. I stroked her vulva gently
once more, and took my hands out of her clothes, put my arms around her and held
her tight against me. For a while it was very quiet.

"Shall we leave them there?" I asked.

Julie kissed my cheek. "They get under the blankets and fall asleep, whispering
and warm and curled up together, all sticky and happy. Just like me." She reached
around behind herself and touched me with her small hand. "Is this it?" she
asked.

"That's exactly it," I said, and I kissed her again.