He sat in the lounge, waiting for her; this posh hotel that she had booked the weekend before. A last minute decision, "I'll fly down for the weekend," he had said. Well it wasn't really the whole weekend, the red-eye from Darwin on Friday night which got in on Saturday morning, and she had got the Monday off work, so now they had 36 hours to fill with Melbourne memories.
She had called him, "Public transport isn't co-operating, I'll be a few minutes," and so now he waited. From his vantage point behind the newspaper he could see the lobby. He waited for her, wondered what she would be wearing, what shoes she would have on, she did love her shoes. Anxiousness began to flutter in his stomach, what if she didn't show, what if she wasn't what he remembered?
He needed have worried, for there she was, heels and all, bag in tow. A tight black top that threatened to expose her nipples, flared skirt kidding her sexy heart-shaped arse; and stockings. They wrapped around her legs, decorating them like wrapping paper might. His heart misses a beat when she finally sees him, she smiles, fondly remembering their previous time together, anticipating what might lay waiting for her. Two lovers embrace in the lobby, lips locked, bodies pressed tight. There is no awkwardness. "Hi there," his voice is deep in her ear, so warm and masculine.
"Hey yourself," she whispers, her lips moving against his skin, that sweet spot just below his ear. He shivers, takes her bag and leads her to the elevators. His body presses hers against the mirrored wall, music plays in the background and either notice. His hands find their way down her back, circling around her hips, over her arse and then under her skirt. A groan escapes him when he reaches exposed skin, the stops of her lacy stockings giving way to an expanse of warmth.