***”The Third Cumming” by Clit Club***
*(This is a preview of a short erotic story that you can currently read for FREE on Kindle here:* [*https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B09C8T374H/*](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B09C8T374H/)*)*
**Chapter One**
I sat alone at the table, with the slow jazz tunes keeping me company as I picked at the wheat bread on my plate. Around me, conversations stirred, coupling with the melody of the music until it all practically blended together in a mixture of indistinct voices and saxophone solos. Then, a bell. A hot wave of summer bled in through the front door as the silver bells jingled below the handle.
I hadn’t seen her in almost a decade. Her hair, which was, from what I remember, long and blonde was now cut short and dyed brown. Now, we’d practically switched heads. Here she was with the short, shoulder-length dark curls, and here I sat, black roots creeping from the center of my skull. As she approached the table, we quickly locked eyes, and she smiled at me. Did I smile back? I couldn’t remember. I was transfixed on her arms, now covered in various tattoos – a lion head on the left shoulder, a dragon on the right forearm. All animals, fictional or otherwise. She looked much more comfortable in her low-cut blouse and jeans than I did in my dress, over-accentuating my curves and hoping to catch someone’s eye.
“Oh, my God. How are you?” she asked me. I stood up and our bodies embraced. She felt warm, but not hot like the harsh sunlight. Comforting, instead.
“I’m doing okay. How are you?” I asked. She was wearing an alluring scent, I realized as the aroma surrounded our hug. It smelled like a foreign perfume, not like the cheap American-made brands. Something French, perhaps?
We separated from each other, though my arms didn’t want to return. She sat down across from me and immediately grabbed a slice of the wheat bread.
“I’m doing good. Thank you.” She paused to grab her silverware, and I sat down, as well. “Are you still running your magazine? Last I saw, you did some really nice stuff, Vern.”
Vern. I hadn’t been called that since college. My expression must have stiffened because I could tell she was backtracking her thoughts.
“I’m sorry. You probably prefer Veronica now,” she said, chuckling bashfully.
“No, no. I like Vern. Always have,” I said, my face red.
As we both blushed, waiting for the other to speak next, our waiter appeared, bringing us both water glasses.
“Hello, ladies. You both look lovely tonight,” he said, winking at us. He couldn’t have been older than 25, as he spoke with such youthful vigor. His white shirt was tucked into his tight black pants, the fabric outlining his member and leaving very little to the imagination.
“Oh, thank you,” she said. “Miranda.” She put out her hand playfully, like a queen.
“Nice to meet you both,” he said. “What can I get for you tonight?” We gave him our orders and then he walked off, though his ass looked great in those pants. Seeing him walk away was a pleasure.
“What a nice boy,” Miranda said, twirling her pasta noodles around her fork. “Reminds me of the time when we were in college and we went to that Chinese restaurant…” Miranda began.
I laughed before she could even finish her thought. “Oh, yes! And all those free crab legs!”
Miranda laughed, as well, and we smiled at each other again.
“We had a lot of fun back then,” she said, her smile straightening.
“We did,” I said, thinking of our many nights together in her dorm room, bodies wrapped together under the sheets, trying not to disturb the kids across the hall.
“How’s…Harry?” she asked. I hadn’t thought of him all day.
“He’s fine. Out of town right now, though, so I’ve been lonely,” I explained.
“Me, too,” she said, earnestly.
“How’s Paul?” I asked.
Miranda sighed. “He’s okay.” She paused, then lowered her voice. “Well, I don’t know, really. We’re…married still, but…”
She trailed off, her eyes going down to her bowl. The air was heavy, though the restaurant was alive with jovial conversations and laughter.
“We’re like oil and water, you know? But you and I, well…” she started, then chuckled.
My heart thumped. “I know,” I replied, red as a beet, feeling the blood rush to my face. “Thank you for reaching out. I know it’s been a while.”
Miranda smiled yet again. “I was happy to. I was in the city, so I thought why not?”
I bit my lip, but then another thought trailed out from my brain and into the conversation. “Maybe you can come back to my place if you want to talk some more, or something,” I suggested.
“I’d like that,” Miranda replied, winking at me. I blushed.
As we tried to pick up the thread of another conversation, the waiter returned. His dark hair was combed to the side, and his big, brown eyes were gleaming at us.
“How was everything, ladies?” he asked, leaning against Miranda’s chair.
“Delicious,” she said, flirtatiously.
“Happy to hear that.” He dropped the check down on the table between us. “Please let me know if there’s anything else I can do for you.”
“Oh, we will,” Miranda said. Then, he winked at her and walked away.
“Who doesn’t love a good wink?” I said, thinking about my many attempts at winking to past lovers but just looking like I had a facial tick.
“He’s cute,” she said. “What do you think?”
“Yeah, I think so,” I replied.
“Maybe he could come hang out with us,” Miranda said, with as much serious intent in her tone as possible.
“Oh?” My eyes widened, and I imagined the three of us, briefly, in my bedroom together. The thought gave me a stir.
“What do you say?” she asked me, rubbing her hands together.
I looked at her, bathed in the golden light of the ceiling lamps like an angel. Here I was with Miranda again, after all these years. So much of her had changed, but so little, too. I rubbed my leg against hers under the table, and we locked eyes. I wanted to reach over and run my fingers across her face, feeling her soft skin and lips, hoping she would want to reach back and touch me, too.
“I’d love to,” I said.
**Chapter Two**
The waiter returned to our table to collect Miranda’s card. Lunch on her, as always.
“Everything good, ladies?” he asked us, smiling, his white teeth practically sparkling. I could see muscles hidden, albeit poorly, underneath the white fabric of his dress shirt.
“Great, actually,” Miranda said, curling little strands of hair around her thin finger.
“I’m glad to hear that. Anything else I can help you with?” he asked again, winking at Miranda. She looked at me. My turn, I guess.
“We were wondering, actually…” I paused, taking him in, imagining his tongue on my breasts, with Miranda below, head in my pelvis. “Would you like to have some fun with us today?”
His smile grew, and he chuckled. “Really?”
“Have you ever had fun with ladies like us before?” Miranda asked him.
“I can’t say I have,” he responded. “My shift does end soon.”
“Perfect,” Miranda exclaimed. “We’ll be going back to her apartment,” she said, eyeing me.
“Here’s the address,” I said, pushing a paper napkin towards him with my home address written on it in blue, smearing ink.
“Perhaps I’ll be there,” he said, playfully. “Maybe you two ladies can…keep each other company until I arrive.”
Miranda laughed. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll be fine.”
He took the napkin and put it in his shirt pocket. Miranda gave him her card and he walked back into the kitchen. Again, we were alone at the table. My leg rubbed against hers under the table. I thought about rubbing my hand on her thigh, slowly making my way towards her pussy, crawling towards it with my fingers. I felt a chill and gathered myself, wiping some sweat from my forehead. After a minute, the waiter came back with the card.
“My name is Dylan, by the way,” he said. We exchanged names, and he said he’d meet us soon at my apartment. Would he actually show up, though? We got up from the table and exited the restaurant into the hot summer heat glistening on the sidewalk.
“I’ll call an Uber,” Miranda proclaimed, pulling out her phone. I wanted nothing more than to rip off her polka-dot blouse and feel her body on mine, then reach over and kiss her neck, running my hands across her supple breasts, playing with her nipples. I clenched my hands to keep them still.
The Uber arrived within a few minutes, and we quickly rushed in. The ride to the apartment seemed to last forever. Miranda sat in the backseat next to me, and my hand brushed up against hers. She didn’t pull away, though. In fact, she moved it closer. Then, she took her hand and moved it onto my thigh, rubbing it slowly. She looked at me like she had back then, when we were together. When we were young, wild, and free. She moved her hand under my dress, eyeing the driver to make sure he wasn’t looking. I felt her finger rub against my clit, and I gasped in excitement. She swiftly removed her hand, but the driver had not noticed. We looked at each other and suddenly laughed.
Eventually, we made it to my apartment in Manhattan. We thanked the driver and quickly walked up the stone stairs, through the glass doors, and into the elevator, barely paying any notice to the doorman. In the elevator, we stood close, and I could feel our breath syncing, our heartbeats practically thumping together. The elevator slowly rose up the building, and before I knew it, Miranda’s lips were on mine. They were soft and lush, and our tongues were inevitably wrapped around each other. She put her hands on my waist, and I felt her breasts through her blouse, running my hand underneath the fabric, feeling her skin. I jostled them in my hands, and she started rubbing my wet pussy under my dress.
Then, the doors opened. The hallway was empty, thankfully. Not wasting any time, I led her to my front door down the hall. My hands were shaking as I reached for the keys in my purse.
“I want to devour you,” Miranda whispered, biting my ear.
The lock turned, and I opened the door.
**Read the rest of this short erotic story for FREE here:** [https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B09C8T374H/](https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B09C8T374H/)
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