The cool breeze wafting across her inner thigh snapped her attention back. How on earth could she have drifted off like this, in this place, in her situation. Then realisation dawned that the breeze could be important. Meg strained through the silence to hear any sound that would indicate movement by the door, but all she heard was the swoosh and boom of the blood in her ears. A natural breeze, a natural consequence, putting goosebumps of cold on her goosebumps of anticipation. Her mind went off again, the same question, the same imponderable; what compulsion had led her here . . . to this.
Shopping . . . what a ridiculous way to start an affair. If someone had told her that she would have accepted the offer of a coffee from a complete stranger in a supermarket, she would have thought they were stark raving bonkers. But Jonathan was not just any old stranger. The look in his eyes as he apologised for knocking her cereals to the floor, the static shock as his fingers touched her hand, meant that when the deep brown timbre of his voice offered her coffee by way of apology, she accepted before she realised that she had. It was such a natural liaison that it wasn't until she was on her way home that it struck her that not only had she had an intimate tète à tète with an unknown (well almost unknown) man, but had, casual as you like, agreed to meet the following week at the same time! Oh well, Meg thought, lets see.
Jonathan felt completely mesmerised. It had been a long, long time since he had felt the reactions that he had felt earlier that day. The woman, Meg, had exuded power, control and subdued eroticism. It had been many, many years since he had seen that combination in a woman and he knew full well what it could mean. If he had wanted to take the time to judge whether it was prudent to take the risk of contact and . . . whatever else, he didn't. Even he was surprised at the speed with which he had moved on the 'in-control' Meg. Now it remained to be seen if next week's meet was to happen.
Meg shifted on the bed, she wasn't uncomfortable but it was hardly a natural position. She felt thoroughly exposed, which she supposed was the point, it certainly was having an effect. Whether it was her blatant sexual exposure or the anticipation of what may happen she had felt her nipples rise at the beginning and was fully aware of the dampness growing between her legs. Her arousal took her mind on to their later meeting.
Jonathan was aware his role would be reactive. He could only hope that he could follow and work alongside the power and erotic charge that had existed the previous week. He wasn't disappointed. Meg's eyes glowed. Her sharp mind and quick conversation couldn't hide the sense of a barely contained erotic volcano. The conversation, inevitably, turned to matters sexual. It really did seem the most natural thing in the world to arrange a hotel meeting for the following week.
True enough, the next week seemed to take forever to arrive. Meg, who had been trying for months to keep sex out of her thoughts, now had a battle to think of much else. Quiet times away from man and family were spent with a silver bullet and a vivid imagination. She had thought a number of times that here was a chance to call it all off, to fail to turn up and continue life as it had been, but even in the pragmatic afterglow when the silver bullet had stopped buzzing and her breathing had returned she knew it wasn't an option that she was going to take.
The click of the door closing sounded to Meg like the clank of a prison cell, not that it was a foreboding thing but a finality. Jonathan made a point, a conscious act, of the finality of closing the door. He turned and kissed her. They had kissed before but they were more pecks, this was an absorption. He took complete control. The kissing remained just short of frantic and the removal of clothes was the same, just this side of desperate! Jonathan's hands and lips seemed to work in synch. The spots were just right, almost as if he had prior knowledge of her body and its needs. She felt comfortable naked, comfortable with his lips on her neck, stretching back -- subconsciously offering her neck, a primaeval reaction . . . and he accepted, nibbling at the centre of her neck, expecting an involuntary withdrawal and surprised when it didn't happen. As his lips travelled down he moved Meg toward the bed.
Coming back for air and a last kiss he felt for the first time a reticence, a moment, the hiatus said much, the last barrier. He laid her on the bed and moved slowly. Opening her legs and stroking the inside of her thigh he felt her following his movements. His lips traced the same lines following his fingertips up to the dampness of her labia lips, the outer lips swollen and glistening. The scent of her excited him and he had to remind himself to take it slowly, to savour every moment and every reaction. He spent time. First on the outer lips stroking and sensing. Feeling her excitement mounting, picking up as he moved inwards, tracing every intimate crease with his tongue whilst his mouth and lips caressed the whole of her. In a detached way Meg realised that he was avoiding her clitoris, building a need that seemed a little unfair at the same as it seemed right. As Jonathan moved in, the warm circular movement of his stroking tongue was enough to set the chain of sparks that brought on her orgasm.
