Several members of the audience hung around, murmuring praises and pressing hearty congratulations into her palm. One older gentleman stood out from the rest. His manner was dignified and intelligent. "Young lady, may I have your card, please."
"Sure." Louisa smiled at the man. Silver-rimmed glasses circled his blue eyes. A little scary was her involuntary reaction. But he returned her smile and carefully tucked her card into the breast pocket of his suit jacket. "I'll be in touch," he promised, and left before Louisa realized she hadn't gotten his name.
She was starving. What she wanted to do most of all was race upstairs and call Richard, tell him how wonderfully she'd succeeded, but there wasn't time. As a speaker she was assigned to one of the big round tables at the snooty-doo luncheon. Even though it was flattering to be asked about her work, she was dying to call her man. It would have to wait.
Conversation over lunch was largely a re-run of the talk she had just given. Many of her peers had been attending concurrent sessions, so Louisa wound up repeating herself a lot. After a while it was like watching a train go by. The salads and the chicken entrees were all alike, and amidst the hubbub, the faces began to blend as well. If it hadn't been for the ubiquitous name tags, she wouldn't have remembered at all which was who.
Finally it was over. Louisa said her goodbyes and joined the crowd by the elevator. On the ride up she remembered the mysterious box. What could it be? Never mind — she would call Richard first.
Actually the first thing she did was get out of the oppressive pantyhose. The satin skirt lining caressed her bottom as she pressed the phone buttons. He answered on the first ring. "How'd it go?"
Louisa bounced into a happy babble of achievement. She thanked him for the flowers, too, letting him know how the gesture had started her day so beautifully.
"So what was the question you couldn't answer?"
"Oh, that." She chuckled. "I got to the part where I said we don't know why someone comes into the library and some smartass piped up and said Yes, we do, we've compiled all these statistics from questionnaires.
"I told him first of all, those questionnaires measured the past, not the future, and second, libraries are always trying to expand their audience. That's the point of discussing the library of the future. And the point of my design is to make a library inviting to everyone, not just certain groups."
Richard's head rocked back. "Tongue fu, baby! You sure got him!"
"I have to say I did," she answered smugly. Then her voice changed. "Do you miss me?"
"Oh," he groaned, "is water wet?"
"I can only speak for myself," she said softly.
His palms got sweaty. He exhaled into the phone. "I put a special gift in your suitcase. Did you open it?"
The box! Louisa almost dropped the phone. "Oh my god. Is this what I think it is?"
"You'll have to open it."
The ribbon surrendered easily. Richard could hear the muffled noises of the package being opened, followed by his girlfriend's gasp. He'd taken a risk that she wouldn't be offended. In fact, he hoped her reaction would be quite the opposite.
"It's almost like you," she marveled. Her pulse was doing the zero-to-sixty thing as the implications unfolded in her mind. She knew what was about to happen but could hardly believe it.
"I know, I spent a lot of time finding it. Rub it across your mouth, Louisa, just pretend I'm with you."
"Mmmmmmm. Oh, baby." She moaned into the phone as the tip smoothed over her lips.
"Now unbutton your blouse. Tell me about your bra."
Her fingers fluttered fast as hummingbirds down her front. "I'm wearing a red blouse today and my bra is... red lace to match..."
Richard splayed his legs where he lay on their bed. Red! Jesus! His thigh muscles clenched.
"Listen closely," he instructed. A second later the sound of his zipper raked into her ear.
"Oh, god," she murmured, "is that what I think it was."
"I think you know by now what it sounds like when I unzip my pants in front of you." His voice was soft, but edged with a tiger snarl of lust. Her answering moan made him feel free to say what he was thinking: "Now take my cock and rub it over your breasts."
He imagined doing so. He could almost feel the gentle scrape of lace on his tip.
"Oh... oh, god yes, ... I'm doing it...."
"Pull open your bra, show me your gorgeous tits." The faint click of her front-hook clasp reached his ear. There was a rustle of lace on skin.
"I'm rubbing the head of your cock over my nipples." The timbre of her voice was twisted with lust. "They're so hard, my nipples are so hard..."
"Unh," he moaned, "that's good, baby, now touch me, stroke me with your hands..."
"Are you touching yourself."
"Yes, ... I've got my dick out and I'm stroking it for you. I'm feeling your hands on me, Louisa, I want you to jack me off."
"Oh!" His language yanked her through a shuddering moment of speechlessness. "Oh, yes, feel me stroke you, honey ... you know I love to handle you..."
"Talk to me, girl, tell me what I do to you."
"You make me cum," her whisper rose to a whine, "I thought of you all night last night, I masturbated thinking about you. I finger-fucked myself."
"I want you to fuck yourself right now, Louisa, feel my cock inside you."
Louisa hiked up her skirt around her waist. The lifelike prick nudged easily into her slippery fissure. Her mouth fell open at the surge of pleasure. This was better than her hand. Much, much better.
"Oh, god, ... Richard ... yes fuck me, I need you..." Louisa panted. One hand squeezed her breast while the other frantically manipulated Richard's understudy.
"Don't stop, baby, I'm right here with you. Ride me."
"Oh god yes I'm riding your cock. So hard — Christ!"
"Hold the phone down there, I want to listen while you cum!"
Obediently she held the phone so he could hear the squish, squish, as the stand-in cock plumbed her depths. She let herself go completely, knowing he was on the other end of the line, stroking himself and listening to her get off. The thought of him witnessing her masturbation sent her over the edge.
In the distance Richard heard the familiar yelping scream. Though the saline on his lips was only his own sweat, her noise touched something deep inside him. His gut echoed back to her call. He groaned several times as he made his own sticky mess.
In the current he dropped the phone. He picked it back up and reconnected with her: ".... oh, baby," she was sighing. "Wasn't there an old commercial about the phone being the next best thing to being there?"
"If so, I don't remember it. Listen, angel, did you like that?"
He couldn't see her eyes widen as she nodded an are-you-kidding yes. Then she wised off: "No, I was just faking it."
He snorted with laughter. Her post-coital wisecracking turned his heart over in his chest. "Oh, yeah, me too then." He grinned. "So tell me again when you're coming home."
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