He opens the door.
The hall is beautifully decorated with a woman's touch. Curios and accent pieces hang on the wall. And as he has come to expect, finely woven carpets cover age-old wooden floors.
"Out here!"
Our hero closes the door behind him and steps into a warm, if cluttered, living room that is bathed in natural light from a dozen windows. He frowns and calls out, not knowing which of its three exits takes him to her.
"Are you lost? Do you need help?"
Outside. He makes his way to the glass door and slides it open. He's about to complain before he sees her. She is either naked, or wearing a top without straps, and is submerged halfway in a large, above ground jacuzzi. Her arms are spread out and she has a pleasant smile that's neither cunning nor open, but somewhere in between. "You should shut the door so flies do not get in," she says. Then, after a moment adds, "...and the same could be said for your mouth."
He cannot say for certain that she winked beneath her shades, but he believes it. He, however, closed the door behind him and made his way over to the side of the massive tub.
"Look how dashing you are in those shades-very sexy. I am glad you agreed to wear them. I wondered what it would be like not seeing your eyes. I do love your eyes, My Mister. So bright and blue and not at all what I am used to And, as it turns out, you hiding them from me? I do not miss them that much!" She laughs, like a normal woman, not at all like the first night. Then she splashes water at him.
When he dodges she laughs again and kicks her feet out of the water so that her naked knee is visible.
She swims up to his edge of the jacuzzi and rises out of the water, her breasts nearly visible. Then she pushes her hands against the railing and leans forward. "Are you going to come here, or do you fear another splash?"
He moves over to the edge of the tub, tempted to look down, but keeping his eyes on her. And once he's made the decision it almost too easy. She is transfixing and somehow, only seeing the outline of her eyes through the smoked lenses almost makes her more appealing. "You are a very striking man."
There is alcohol on her breath, light and easy. If she was anyone else he would ask about it.
But still, even as the heat beats down on him, he waited for what was next. "Thank you. You know how I feel about you. How beautiful I find you."
"I do. I am no stranger to me thinking it. Most men come for the looks, or the breasts, and only figure out I have the wit somewhere later. You are such an enigma to me. You knew I had the wits first, I told you that you'd never get the breasts or see the face. And yet..."
She runs the front of her hand up and down his chest, feeling him through his shirt. They stare at each other as before she grabs him, clings to him. Then his hands move up her back to her hair, still dry, and they lock her head in that position. She swallows and he can hear it like a gunshot; sees in her eyes the first moment of fear.
Then he leans in, presses his lips against hers. For a moment, they are only touching and she is trembling, despite leaning in the water, despite holding onto the railing. Then she pushes back and he follows, bit by bit, until the kiss is whole.
They dance with each other, hold on to one another, with that kiss. Their lips say all the things they can't because it would be too soon and daring, because it would wound him and worry her. So they say them here, in this kiss, before they even part their lips.
Then, for the first time, he invades her. His tongue in her mouth, his hands through her hair. His shoulders exerting force on her body with his size, holding her in place until she kisses him back, licks his tongue with hers and sucks it into her mouth with vigor and not just pleasantry.
When the kiss is broken they look at one another. She bites her lip and he looks at her with his mouth falling open, terrified that she is going to withdraw again, ask him to turn around while she escapes into the day once more. The feeling is hot, in his stomach, in his eyes. He's never wanted to pin a woman down like this.
But instead, she laughs. She laughs and says, "You're a very good kisser!"
So he vaults over the edge of the tub, clothing and all, and sinks into the water next to her. He's wrong on the depth, though, and sinks in until his brown hair is soaked with water and, for a moment, as dark as hers when he comes back to the surface.
"No!" She splashes at him, kicks him in the thigh. "No! I'm naked! I didn't say you could come in here! You get right back out this momen-"
Our hero kisses her again, this time capable of wrapping his arms around the small of her back and pulling her to him. And this time, she stops fighting, almost immediately, putting her hands on his hips and letting herself be dragged to him, almost weightless from the water.
Either he's pushed his way between them, or she's opened her legs, but he's gone from kicking to latching them around him.
He pushes until her back is against the wall and they kiss. And they kiss. And they kiss.
When he pulls back she is a different creature entirely. Her mouth is open and she is panting. Her hair is ruined, not perfect for the first time and she is looking at him in a way that is almost terror mixed with arousal. He feels the darkness stirring in him, telling him that he could take her now. That he could push her and she would yield.
