Anything She Wants by Unknown

gasping moans, the little whimpers in her throat. I pulled apart the two sides of her robe, baring her from head to toe.
    “Lay back,” I said, and she laughed again.
    “On the bathroom floor?” She obeyed and I hovered over her, my hair brushing her stomach. I traced the fine silvery marks just below her hips and my nose brushed the slight swell of her stomach below her belly button. My tongue darted out and I tasted her skin before trailing kisses down to her dark curls. When I spread her legs, my thumbs stroked the hollows of her inner thighs, already damp with arousal.
    “Vee,” she begged, tilting her hips up. She was pink and soft, her clit peeking out, and I swiped my tongue over it, giving her a teasing flick. I let my breath fan over her, then I took her in my mouth and her moan became a guttural cry, almost a sob. That I could do this to her—there’s no feeling in the world like it. I would spend all my days giving her pleasure if I could.
    Her hands twined through my hair and drew it back from my face. I glanced up. She watched me, her eyes glazed with passion, her lips parted. When I gently scraped her clit with my teeth, her head fell back. My fingers slid into her wetness, the muscles tightening around me. She was close already, so wet she drenched my hand.
    I curled my fingers and pressed up. Her grip on my hair tightened and I felt an ache at the roots, but it didn’t matter, because she came, her whole body stiffening, arching up off the floor.
    She melted into my embrace, her chest heaving. I inched up next to her and she smoothed my hair with her gentle hands.
    “So much for your chignon,” she said.
    I looked up at her, lifting my head from her chest where I’d pillowed it on her breasts. “If I asked you to dye my hair, would you?”
    Her hands stilled. “You just changed the color a few days ago.”
    This was going to hurt, but I had an idea. On her desk last night I’d spotted a garish orange and black invitation to a Halloween ball. It was from one of her big clients, someone who liked to invite his favorite freelancers to all the company bashes. I knew Alex hadn’t really intended to go. She liked to stay in most of the time. That’s something I didn’t realize about her until we started seeing each other. I’d only ever seen her at the bookstore.
    I wanted to go to this party.
    “I want to dye it a dark brown, like yours.”
    She flinched—a better reaction than I’d expected. She loved my hair being wild colors, the sort of shades she’d never dared do herself. I wondered why. It wasn’t like she worked in an office or had to punch a time clock.
    I reached up and tweaked a lock of her dark hair where it lay in a halo around her head. “And when you’ve done mine, I’ll do yours.”
    “Mine?” She pushed herself up on her elbows and I sat back, leaning against the vanity.
    “It’s The Review ’s Halloween party in a few days,” I said. “I thought we should go.”
    “I never go.” She sat up fully, her brow furrowed.  
    So much for post-orgasmic bliss. I thought for sure she’d agree, with all the happy endorphins bopping around in her system. Not that I’d use sex as a means of getting my own way, but it would have been useful.
    “But it’ll be great. I already have an idea for our costumes.” I squeezed her hand and shook it almost maniacally, and finally she cracked a smile.
    “I’m glad you do, because I never know what to be.”
    “You’ll be me.”
    “You?”
    “And I’ll be you.”
    “I don’t know.” Her smile faded to pensiveness.
    I pushed myself to my feet, my hair flying back in a wild wave. I’m sure I looked ridiculous—stark naked, pale but for my tattoos, the splash of stars that runs from my ribcage and down over my bony left hip.
    “Remember when you first came to New York and joined the punk scene?” I knew; I’d read about it in one of her notebooks. I reached down and pulled her to her feet. She gathered her robe and tied