It's late afternoon and after dropping our bags in the room, we kick off our shoes and head to the beach for a walk. The soft warm sand under our feet, the cool breeze coming off the water, the setting sun turning the sky beautiful shades of orange and gold. Talking, laughing, dipping our toes into the water, splashing each other, I chase you down the beach and back to the apartment. Now, alone again, we kiss hard, so hungry for each other. No time, for that, I say. We have dinner reservations somewhere nice. But first, I want to get you ready.
I run a warm bath for you, suds filling the tub and the sweet smell of herbs and petals fill the room. While you relax and wash yourself, I stand and shave. You look absolutely beautiful, your tanned skin and chestnut hair cast a sharp contrast against the white marble tub. "I'm done shaving. Now it's your turn, darling."
You sit up on the edge of the tub and I put a fresh blade in the razor. My hand gently parts your legs and you lean back a little. I lean closer and the cold, sharp razor touches the skin between your legs. My hands work confidently, exposing all of your bare skin. Each stroke of the razor gets a little closer, my hand lovingly handling your lips to be sure to get every curl. Warm water rinses you clean and I take your hand in mine, drawing your fingers across your own smooth flesh. Our hearts are racing with temptation but it's time to get dressed.
On the bed, I've laid out a lace body stocking. The swirling patterns tease and tickle every inch of your skin, especially when you walk. Next, the panties, the knee length dark brown skirt, a beige and gold blouse, glossy heels in dark leather, makeup, jewelry. You look breathtaking. In my black suit and tie, I take your hand and we hit the town.
Dinner is amazing. Course after course of small and exotic foods, each delivering a little surprise. We talk about each morsel and try to guess how it's made. And each course comes with a wine pairing -- glass after glass of champagne, Shiraz, Merlot, Cabernet, port. My hand, under the table, pushes your skirt back a little and rubs against your leg, feeling the texture of the stocking and heat of your body. You smile and slyly shift your leg away. Yes, this isn't the place.
Next stop, the club. It's 11:30 and the scene is already in full swing. The music is great and we jump right in. I don't have to tell you how hot it is to dance with you. I need a break and I get drinks from the bar -- vodka and OJ. Back to the dance floor, and now we really work up a sweat. All eyes are on us. Time for another drink and I can barely keep my hands off you.
I take your hand, pull you off the dance floor and out to the taxi stand. In the cab, we put our hands on each other's leg. As we kiss, your fingers move higher to find my hardness, the fruit of your sweet touch. My hand on your leg grips tightly and my fingers dig deeply into your thigh. Each of us looking into each other's eyes as my hand slides along the lace, moving closer to your heat. Now each of us touching each other, our lips close but not touching. Our breath mingling in the warm evening air. The taxi racing down the highway to our flat.
Stepping out of the taxi, we stroll back to the apartment. I've had a few drinks and can't seem to stop touching you. I whisper in your ear about how much I need you. About how you turn me on. I'm thinking about those freshly shaved bare lips and the soft pink flesh within them. With each step toward the door, you can feel the lace rub and dance on your skin.