A couple of years ago, I was seeing a girl named Steph. Steph was what I think of as a “design girl.” She was interested in fashion, loved modern art and exposed brick apartments. Born wearing Warby Parkers. Unfortunately I find all of these qualities terribly attractive, and we had fun going to interesting arty places in the city.
One of these places was a maker’s fair put on by the modern art museum. It was a gathering of independent artists selling jewelry, t-shirts, handbags, etc. Steph loved handmade jewelry and so this was right up her alley. We met there after work, bought cocktails at the ticket desk and milled around the gallery of vendors. We talked about the various products and pointed out our favorites, strolling around holding hands. We’d only been dating a month or so, and we were very much infatuated with each other.
Midway through the gallery, Steph pulled me towards a booth selling handmade earrings. I didn’t care much for them, actually — colorful cotton balls painted and strung over hooks. But the artist selling them was absolutely striking. She was in her mid-twenties, around my age, and had hair dyed bright blonde, almost white. It fell around her delicate face and accentuated her big, ice-blue eyes and dark eyebrows perfectly. A nose ring and several ear piercings cemented her identity in case I’d forgotten she was an artist. She was small and slender, and had a charisma that made you instantly pay attention to her.
My breath caught as she greeted us. I was really into Steph and hadn’t been thinking about other women at all. I certainly hadn’t expected to see anyone I was more excited about than her. I just kind of hovered as Steph complimented her work profusely and introduced herself. The artist thanked her, reached out her hand to shake Steph’s and said “I’m Olivia.” The conversation had been completely between the two women, but since I was right there, I shook her hand too, and thanked her for showing us.
We left the fair soon afterward and walked to some bar or another. I was still having fun, but I caught myself wondering about Olivia a few times throughout the evening.
A month or so later, Steph left for grad school; something we’d always known was coming but was still rough. We half-heartedly tried long distance for a few weeks before it fizzled. I’d forgotten about the craft fair and Olivia at this point, but wanting to distract myself from the breakup I opened up a dating app and swiped my brain into a cozy, dopamine-addled oblivion.
Ten minutes later, I came across a profile of a gorgeous girl, dark hair with big, blue eyes and dark eyebrows. I couldn’t place her, but she looked oddly familiar. Then I saw her name. Olivia! As I saw her other pictures it became clear that light blonde was just one of several hair colors she’d worn recently, but she was just as alluring in all these photos as she’d been at her booth months earlier. I “liked” her profile, a gesture that felt not nearly dramatic enough to keep up with the excitement rushing through me.
The next day at work, I opened up the app and saw she’d connected with me. I was ecstatic. She was so attractive and so charismatic, and even if I didn’t like her earrings the fact that she was creative was incredibly sexy. I needed to go out with her.
I wasn’t sure if she’d remember me, but I figured I’d just tell her I recognized her from the fair. I don’t remember our exact conversation, but it went well (some people are good surgeons or good architects, I’m good at talking to girls on dating apps). We agreed to meet that Thursday for a drink.
I was more nervous than usual for a first date. Even in the brief time I’d seen Olivia talking to Steph, it was clear she had a lot of confidence and a quick wit. I think I was a bit insecure about being too mainstream for her, as I’m pretty clean-cut and have a much less interesting wardrobe than she did.
We met and instantly had chemistry. She said in a deadpan that she didn’t remember me at all, but was glad her earrings had made an impression. She had a teasing personality and was perceptive and instantly picked up on the little ways I presented myself on the date and called me out on them; it was intimidating but fun and refreshing compared to nonstop pleasantries on most first dates. We had a cocktail and then decided to walk a few blocks to a fancy, old fashioned hotel, which had a bar with surprisingly affordable drinks. We each had a champagne cocktail (underrated) and learned about each other. She was smart, creative, and political. I was smitten.
After our drink, we walked down the street in the dark for a block or two, enjoying the warm night air. We stopped at a bench and leaned against it and kissed. Softly, and then more intensely, my hands wrapping around her waist. I looked at her and smiled; the fact that I was out with this artist girl whose beauty had blown me away months ago was hard to fully wrap my head around. I figured that would be it and I’d walk her home, but she looked right in my eyes and said “let’s go to your apartment.”
She gave a little smirk, probably at my stunned face, and grabbed my hand as she opened her phone and called an Uber. I lived a mile or so away, and we sat close, scrambling to discover each other’s thighs in the back of the car. We raced to the door when we got to my apartment, and fell onto my bed making out. She pulled off her shirt, paused and gave me the same smirk as before and said simply, “I want you to fuck me.”
I felt like I was living out a particularly vivid daydream, pulling off Olivia’s clothes and kissing my way down her body. I kissed her thighs and smiled to myself before I tasted her at just how surreal this was. I gently moved my tongue along her clit, and hearing the way she whimpered was so incredibly sexy; it was the first time she’d sounded like she wasn’t totally in control. I breathed in her body, she smelled damp and sweet and I slid my finger inside of her and put all my focus on that noise she was making and making it more intense. A minute or two later her voice caught as she was moaning and she came, and pulled me up and kissed me and slid me inside her.
I was so turned on from the excitement of actually being with her and from hearing her cum that I could barely contain myself. She fit me perfectly and pulled me in as I fucked her slowly at first and then faster, pinning her legs up on my shoulders. We were both sweating and panting and I completely forgot myself in the warmth of the air and the alcohol and her body. She clawed at my back and I felt myself getting ready to finish. I pulled out and came on her chest, covering her pale, smallish boobs. I collapsed next to her and we kissed deeply before she hopped out of bed to clean off.
We met once more and then that was it, unfortunately. She said she didn’t see it working out long-term and that was that. She was a remarkably magnetic person, and it’s still such a turn-on thinking about her and the way we met.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/j0lkg0/the_artist_i_met_while_out_with_another_girl