New York, NY: 1/1/07

Three...Two...One...Happy New Year!!!

Cheers from the crowd erupted as the clocks ticked over from 2006 into 2007. Flurries began to float across Times Square, the endless flashing lights turning the flakes into suspended flickering crystals. The whole square reeked of drunkenness and partying as the thousands...hundreds of thousands packed Times Square as they had every year since 1907. The freezing cold and crowded celebration turned everyone tipsy or drunk, and turned everyone into old friends as well.

It wasn't a bad activity for a first trip ever to New York City. David, Second Class at the Naval Academy, was from Omaha, and the last person anyone would think would be a future sailor, let alone a future officer in the Navy. Moving to Annapolis was the first time he'd ever been to the East Coast. This year, a bunch of the guys packed into an old, borrowed car, and drove up to New York City for New Year's.

David and the crew had arrived at 2pm that afternoon in uniform. Immediately the cadets drew attention to themselves. Sharpened by regimental confidence and twenty-one academic hours every semester, and sculpted by mandatory intramurals, fitness, and summer cruises, the Academy tended to develop strong physical traits, stamina, and precision in movement. David combined ice blue eyes and a blond Navy cut with a masculine, angular jawline. His face was hairless, as per regulation. His athletic passion was lacrosse, and had the calves and shoulders to prove it. At 5'11" he was the second tallest of the four, whose tailored winter-dress earned nods of approval by men, and long looks from women of all ages.

After the ball drop and amorphic mass celebration, the crew decided to split for a few hours, and meet back up at Eugene's on 41st Street for the all-night/all-day soiree party. David, the most meticulous of the crew, wanted the time to shower, change, and catch an hour of sleep before heading back out again. For this view, he was harangued and roasted by the crew. He laughed it off and hailed a cab among the sea of yellow checkers and illuminated brake lights.

"St. Mark's Hotel, please," David slipped into the cab, sliding across the back seat to directly behind the driver. Traffic, as he should have suspected but for his New York virginity, was at a complete standstill.

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Julia was freezing cold, and attempting stomping around in her boots to stay warm. She and her friends had been drinking very heavily, and were swaying, laughing, and clinging to each other as they almost danced through the crowds in Times Square.

Julia was a senior at Hunter College, majoring in elementary education, and in the Latino Honor's Society. She had lived in the Bronx her entire life. Amazingly, in twenty-three years she had never been to Times Square on New Year's Eve: a conscious decision whose practice was not so amazing among native New Yorkers.

Julia wished she had worn more sensible shoes for the night out. The three inch heeled ankle-high boots were doing little to keep her feet warm despite thick socks, and were murder on her feet. They looked great with her jeans, but that was about all they had going for them at the moment. In response to the mild pain and freezing cold, alcohol was providing a workable solution. The girls' laughing and inebriated sway was proof of this.

Julia had large, deep brown eyes, and lustrous long, straight black hair. Tonight she had just kept it loose and straight, letting the long, shiny strands cascade down her back and shoulders. Her face was small and soft, with full, glossed lips and an unclefted chin. She never wore much facial makeup, as her skin was smooth and supple, the color of creamed coffee. She was just under 5'5", and hated herself for it. Her waist and hips were narrow, her legs toned. She hated being so average, and wasn't aware how attractive men actually found her. She always took their complements as cheap invitations to Ikea beds and carryout laundered sheets.

In the haze of the night, the women found themselves on the corner of Sixth Avenue, watching the near gridlock of traffic push through the intersection at 41st Street. The streets were packed with people: New Year's Eve keeping Midtown packed well past midnight. Auld Lang Syne had broken out amongst the crowd. The girls took up the tune and laughed their way through it joyously.

Julia blinked a few times through the sea of traffic lights and reflected profiles. Someone caught her eye, and she was concentrating on focusing for a better look.

"Oh my God, look at that guy," Maria poked fun at her friend.

"Damn," Larissa was impressed, "that guy is hot."

The three of them stared the cab down. Julia had always been the malleable one, so they all knew whom to dare.

"You should totally go over there and get in that guy's cab, Julia."

"I know you're too chicken to talk to a guy like that, Julia," The two of them laughed at her, knowing how shy she normally was, and kidding her for it. It's not like she could go over there and talk to him. He was inside a cab.

"Chicken...Chicken," the girls mused behind her, laughing.

Julia crooked her lips in a half-smile. She would show them. She confidently walked out into Sixth Avenue, and hailed a cab. Finding the one, she strode over to it, and opened the unlocked door, and slipped in.

As the unlocked door opened abruptly from the exterior, flooding the interior cab with bitterly cold air and a slender backlit body, David was momentarily at a loss. Was this usual? Was he being robbed? This being his first New York experience, he didn't know how to react, if he could react. She – as became clearer as the yellowed interior lights traced her feminine form – quickly slammed shut the back door.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize is cab was taken," Julia attempted to sound aloof.

"It's...ok," David confusedly answered.

"Well...wanna share?" Julia asked, her lips parting to hint at her white teeth.

"O...k...," David answered, not having any clue what that meant.

She told the driver where she wanted to go, and it happened to be reasonably close to the St. Mark's Hotel, though neither of them knew that.

He was even more gorgeous in person. In the dark blue military uniform, shined shoes, gold buttons, she found herself smiling a little more that she had worked up the guts to take the dare.

"My name's David," he offered, attempting to get more comfortable with the whole situation.

"Julia," she replied with a smile, reaching across to touch his arm, "and don't worry, I don't bite," she laughed through her tipsiness. The whole back of the cab smelled of amaretto sour and her own scent.

David noticed her smile first; how her teeth played foil to her brown skin. How her hair was shone under the streetlights... A blaring horn from the traffic around them snapped him back to reality.

"So you're a soldier?" Julia asked inquisitively.

"No," David smiled at her, "Naval Academy. I'm a junior."

"Really? I'm a senior at Hunter."

"Hunter?" David had no idea what Hunter was, or where it was.

"Yeah," her beautiful, enticing smile showed itself again, "Hunter College, on the Upper East Side."

"Oh," David laughed, "I'm still not really sure where that is. This my first time in New York."

She smiled, reaching across to his arm again. He felt hard under the uniformed exterior. "Did you come for New Year's? Did you watch the ball drop?"

"Yeah," he laughed again, feeling the weight of her hand on his arm, "It was more of a drunken mosh than anything."

"I know what you mean. This was the first time I've ever been to Times Square at New Year's, and I live here," she smiled brightly, scooting closer to him. "I wasn't missing anything."

David looked gave her a sidelong glance, testing., "It was an all right night. I didn't get the kiss I wanted at midnight, but other than that it was a good time."

"I didn't either," she looked into his eyes, sending signals she knew he wouldn't miss, "but the night is still young."

Their lips met in a mutual lean. Eyes closed, tasting each other's lips for the first time. Soft, slightly wet and warm; the night lost a bit of its chill in that moment. After the long kiss, the two pulled back and looked at each other for a long moment without words.

"Do you mind if I take my shoes off?" Julia finally broke the silence, "My feet are killing me."

"Go ahead," David acquiesced, slightly taken aback by the abrupt change of topic, "we're not getting anywhere in this traffic anyway."

Julia bent down in the seat, untying the laces in her boots. Her long bend revealed skin above the top of her jeans at the small of her back below the bottom of her thick black coat. She had a beautiful tattoo of firelight-shaped wings centered on her spine. It looked incredible on her creamed-coffee skin. David shifted in his seat, a wave of heat pushing through his body.

Julia flexed her toes as she managed to pull the boots off her ankle, letting out a sigh of newly received comfort. "That is so much better," she sighed again, "these boots are killing me. Too much time on my feet today." She then unzipped her coat, and pulled it off her shoulders, willing her torso out of it.

Under her bulky coat, she was wearing an angel-white knit turtleneck sweater. It hugged her body, revealing the gentle slopes and valleys beneath. She was beautifully feminine. Her eyes returned to his, glimmering in the bright city lights pouring in through the cab windows.

"Are you ok?" Julia asked. David looked as if he'd taken a blow to the head.

"Yeah," he paused, "everything's great, actually." He looked deeply into her eyes, knowing she wouldn't mistake his look.

She lunged at him gently, catching his face with her right hand, caressing his jaw line, her lips parted, drinking softly from him. His tongue slipped into her mouth slowly, tasting her for the first time. She let out a warm, near silent moan as she exhaled against him; pressing herself to him a little harder.

She felt soft against his lips, sweet and tipsy. A further heat came over him as his hands sculpted the form of her sweater around her flexing waist. Their breathing was becoming deeper and shared. Daring herself, feeling her need, she began opening the gold buttons on his winter-dress.

The kiss became long and deep, heated as his hands slipped under the knitting of her sweater. Her skin was soft satin, hot despite the cold night. She moaned again softly, opening the white dress shirt, and sinking her hands inside, running her fingertips over his undershirt. His chest was firm and muscular: silk over riveted sinew.

Suddenly, his hand was at her crotch, cupping over the seams of her jeans. Enjoying the immediacy of his touch, gentled through thick denim, she pressed herself against his hand, almost trapping it with the closure of her thighs. She moaned excitedly for him, renewing the taste of his mouth on her lips with a hot, wanting kiss.

She tugged at his undershirt and button-down, releasing them from his trousers. Her long nails traipsed across his tightened abdomen. Using only a slow gentle touch she explored the shaped ridges of his stomach. His skin had only a fraction of an inch of give until reaching the hard muscles further underneath. She smiled and let out a purr against his neck as she felt the hardness.

His hand moved in a slow to and fro motion against her mound. The heat of the moment, the feel of his body against her, and her deep desire to feel his fingers on her skin drove her to remove her hands from his stomach, and release the button of her jeans. She lowered the zipper, and opened the angle wide, revealing white cotton panties underneath. Without needing invitation, he sunk his hand deep into her jeans, cupping her mound.

His trousers were becoming more and more confining with every passing moment. One hand could feel her wetness soaking through the panties, hot against his fingertips; the other ran through her long straight hair, cool and incredibly soft on his skin. The combination was an amazing contrast.

Her thighs were soft and smooth as silk, quivering from his cupped hand. The shape and silhouette of her groomed pubis pushed against the interior of her panties, the rest of her mons smooth and flawless. The absence of hair made her nerves stand on end in hypersensitivity, making each one of his touches more visceral.

Traffic was stopped, the meter kept clicking, but that didn't matter as the temperature continued to rise in the back of the cab struggling in Sixth Avenue stoppage. Julia moaned again for him as she felt his fingers moving her panties aside, revealing her swollen lips to his caress. She was soaked for him, and knew it. A thick finger easily slipped inside, betraying her further. She clasped at it involuntarily, suddenly needing to be filled by him.

She felt the bulge in his trousers thicken against her thigh. She released her gentle grip on the back of his neck and slowly slipped her hands down his chest under his open clothes. Her hands moved smoothly despite the rhythmic probing of his long finger snared within her snatch. She opened his belt, and released the closure of his navy blues, and lowered the zipper. Tugging a little, she pulled them down enough to reach her hand inside.

Enclosing her hands round the shaft, she pulled it from the confines of his y-fronts. His cock stood at attention for her. She smiled, leaning back, looking hotly into his eyes as she slowly stroked his manhood from base to tip, matching the rhythm of his finger inside her. She pouted in pleasure, delicately squeezing her hand around his shaft in kind.

His thumb grazed her fleshy folds, finding her clit with his practiced ease. Gently, he flicked his thumb over the hardening nub, sending waves of intense pleasure through her pelvis and spine. Her hips and thighs flexed as her clit was massaged while simultaneously being penetrated.

She closed her eyes, moaned, and arched for him as she felt a second finger slip inside her. She knew her lips were swollen and heated. Each plunge sending electric pulses into her stomach and up her spine. Her mind began to unweave at his touch. Feeling his thick erection in her hand only made her cunt grip his fingers tighter. She whimpered in pleasure for him.

Without words, his fingers left her depths, and traced up her lower stomach, leaving a tiny, sparkling trail of wetness behind. She panted in desire, her skin on fire. Every brushing touch of his fingers made her skin flare in anticipation. She tugged at her jeans and panties, fighting to lower them. The absence of his fingers leaving her hot, wet, and empty.

She reached into the back pocket of her jeans, and pulled out a square package. Tearing the foil and looking into his eyes sensuously, she pinched the band, and pulled the condom free. She moved to his cock, placing the condom on the head. She leaned in, kissing and moaning at his neck as her fingers ringed above the band, and with a squeeze and push, she rolled the condom down his rigid shaft.

With a green light, the car pushed forward into the intersection. Julia wiggled out of her jeans and panties, pushing them into a pool on the floor of the cab on top of her boots. Her hand returned to David's glistening cock. She could feel his heart beating for her as she tested his girth and solidity.

She changed her position beside him, straddling with a single motion of precise grace. Their eyes met within the irregular bright of momentarily unobscured streetlights beyond the cab. She could feel the head of his cock gently pulsing against the smooth, silky skin of her inner thigh. He could feel the heat of her thigh with clarity, burning for his touch.

With mutual, sensuous smiled they enjoined, her hand clasping his shaft and guiding it slowly into her depths. She opened her thighs to accommodate him, coating him with her slickness. He felt her warm velvet walls enshroud his cock, taking him in up to the balls.

Low moans escaped them as they filled the back of the cab with sex. She began to ride him slowly and deliberately, controlling her movements above him with a calculated rocking. She leaned into him kissing, sucking, and nibbling at his neck. As it turned out, she did bite.

He moaned for her, his hands exploring her curves as she rid him with powerful precision. Her head arched back as he cupped her breasts through her sweater. His hands made her need his touch, and quickly she reached her hands behind her back, still impaled on him, and unclasped the strapless bra. She peeled it from her breasts and lifted the sweater, the decorative ribbing resting just at the top of her breasts as it scrunched up at her shoulders.

Eager for more, she took his arm by the wrist and all but wrenched it to her sex. She panted for him, drowning in her own pleasure. "Rub my clit...please...your cock feels so good in me," she moaned.

His thumb again met her clit as she rode his shaft in abandon. The rhythm electrified her, his shaft and thumb working in tandem to make her hips convulse in pleasure. She shuddered, calling out to him as she came on his shaft, her hips bucking against his cock in spasm as her orgasm rushed through.

Her hardened nipples betrayed further how aroused she was for him, how complete she felt with his cock buried within her. His tongue crept across her tightened left areola, teasing the tip of her distension. She moaned for him, her nipples incredibly sensitive, burning to feel him. Instinctively she tightened around him as she rocked against his hips, making his head roll back in pleasure.

Her hand pressed against the window, heat melting the humidity into the lines and flesh of her palm. It was slightly fogged, but she knew people could see her. She knew they could see his hand cupping her right breast; could see that it filled his hand as she pressed against it. She knew the street lights bounced off her skin, dancing in light and shadow as the car moved down the avenue. She moaned, riding him harder in desire as she felt new eyes on her, thanking him for turning into an erotic sculpture. She became an artwork of pleasured desire.

"Fuck me," David pleaded for her, her hot slick walls sending him into another world. He could see the tattoo on her back in the rear view mirror, the streetlight glowing of the rises and valley of her spine, her moans pouring into his ear.

She pressed her palm to the cool window, pressing harder against him. Her walls clamped around him. She could feel him engorging inside her; could feel herself stretching around the veiny cock within her.

"Oh God," he moaned for her, his voice airy and pleasured, "I'm going to cum." He squeezed her flexing thighs, his hips bucking under her in urgent, involuntary spasms. She pressed hard onto him, her muscles on fire, her nipples aching, she felt complete into her depths, her walls massaging, coaxing him. She wanted him, needed him to cum for her.

Suddenly his hands gripped her hips, and he plugged deeply into her. His fingers made her burn, and she felt her walls spasming. His eyes rolled back, his neck muscled popping out through his skin as his body convulsed under her, his rigid hardness pulsing, then exploding within her. She rode him harder, feeling her own release about to push her over the edge. She coated him further with her needy orgasm, writhing on him as heat rushed over her in uneven waves.

They crashed against each other, forming a single mass of flesh in the back of the car. They panted and flickered, squeezing each other intermittently. After a few long moments, she removed herself from him, smiling hazily as she struggled to put her jeans back on.

"I'm staying at the St. Mark's Hotel. Why don't you stay for breakfast?" David asked, closing himself up, though still untucked.