Watching the stars as they showed themselves in the moonlit sky, curling up on the sofa with a glass of wine, sitting there by myself in front of the crackling fire and the swirling flames that stirred up wistful reminders of romance, that could have been loneliness made me shiver.
In the perception of an absent confidant my mind turned to distant recollections for comfort.
Thoughts of a time so special to me came to the forefront of my mind like so many times before, and as I sat and pondered on it, my mind recalled every heart-stopping moment totally. Roaming thoughts of ever-lingering memory of a time gone by and a clandestine rendezvous in the proverbial, 'Out of the way cafe.'
The remembrance of settling myself in a chair at a small table in a corner, and as I looked up to see you smile and greet me with a cheery "Hello you," as you walked over to the table. Six foot, distinguished, muscle-bound, yet kind and sensitive. A man any woman would be proud to know, who carried a tray, bearing the promise of something tasty.
As I leaned back to admire the sight before me I stretch my legs out, and beheld a twinkle in your eyes as you glanced down, and I regarded your face displaying momentary approval at the nylon stockings surveyed.
Sitting to join me, passing over a cup of steaming tea, and I reached to accept the offering, and hereby allowed the possibility of our hands to meet, and, fingers entwined, wildly exuded tumultuous sparks previously unforeseen or dared to speculate.
As you placed the cup down, your head lifted slightly, and we looked into each others eyes, in the vain hope of finding an answer how to cope with our feelings, and still our fingers remained touching, teasing exhilaration.
Then you smiled, that special smile you saved for me and me alone, and our fingers disengaged. I echoed you with my own smile, and my eyes emitted animated euphoria as kicking a shoe off, you stretched a leg out, eager to enjoy compliments of pleasure produced from a surreptitious glance of toe touching nylon.
You wondered about touching slightly higher. I could see in you the longings to, and you speculated, even dared yourself to, hoping it wouldn't be noticed.
I in turn dared draw from your lip a remaining teardrop of tea with my finger, allowing it to dally there before lifting it to my own lips and tasting not only the tea but your skin. As this stimulated feelings of arousal within me, I remembered wondering if it excited you as much.
I remembered a bead of perspiration that showed on your forehead as I leaned forward a touch whereby a slight gap between buttons becoming more prominent, and it revealed an edge of white lace, the beginnings of a promise of a cup of white lace that surrounded my flesh within.
Now sitting here, my hand wandered down to my left breast, and cupped it. Massaging it ever so slightly. Running a finger over a now hardened nipple whilst thoughts of 'what if you had plucked up courage enough to reach out and touch' entered my now desiring mind. What might have happened then? As we knew we both wanted it to. Oh how I wished it was you touching me now. I closed my eyes and continued to remember the way I felt then.
An enticing yearning which encouraged the deep seated moments of the start of a raging fire immediately ignited. My heart beat a little faster. I wondered if you could see it in my face as I felt the flush rise in my cheeks. For I detected a similar slight flush in yours.
However much we wanted more and yes, we wanted more it just was not possible. One of us was attached, and we always promised never to compromise the fact.
Yet you still pushed a scrap of paper toward me with a hurriedly scribbled number on it.
"Call me."
