"Hm hm hm, hm hm hm." Standing in the bathroom, fixing her hair, Samantha found herself humming the words to that ridiculous song. "Birth day sex, birth day sex." It was a silly song, but it was appropriate for the occasion. Birthday sex was definitely on her mind.
She looked back at herself in the mirror - *his* mirror. It wasn't her birthday; it was her Anthony's. And here she was in his bathroom, in his place, and he had no idea. Or so she hoped he had no idea; it certainly sounded on the phone like he had no idea. They had spoken no more than 20 minutes ago, and she knew he was on his way home. Tony sounded so heartbroken that - she had him believe - she couldn't be in town for his birthday. She had been away on business for two weeks, due back in four days from now, but managed to cut out and swing an early flight home to be with her lover, Tony Liu.
She smiled into the mirror at the thought of the word "lover." In their six short months together, they'd already established rhythms that left a certain ache whenever they were apart. Rhythm, she reiterated to herself, not routine. Nothing about their time together was routine; together, nothing felt boring. Everything was about taking chances, about letting go. If she was playing it safe she wouldn't be planning this surprise party of one.
The smile tempered. She looked at herself and saw an older face. The occasion of his birthday gave her an excuse to dwell on their age difference yet again. He was turning a mere 28 years young: a personal trainer by trade, a physical specimen in his prime. At her age of 33, her prime was fading; weight was staying on, skin was wrinkling.
Yet he didn't seem to mind at all; in fact quite the opposite. His favorite outfits of hers were always the ones that extenuated curves that weren't there 5 years before; and he lamented aloud whenever she applied even a stitch of make-up - don't hide your beauty, he always said. Didn't he know she used to be skinny? She found it hard to agree, but then, she knew she had to let it go, at least for tonight. Tonight was for him.
Or was it? Because one thing age had given her she could appreciate - and lord how he helped her appreciate it - was an absolutely carnal libido. If tonight was just for him, what could explain the burning anticipation, the torrid butterflies in her stomach?
This she could readily admit to herself: she loved how her outfit felt on her body. It was a black dress - a little black dress - that left little to the imagination. It clung to her hips like a second skin, and she relished the sensation of the fabric strafing over her bra-less nipples. She also enjoyed the lace of the pair of black stockings rough against her thighs. Tall black heels elevated her an inch or two too, giving her a definite feeling of power. She liked feeling sexy, feeling 110% ready to ravish him.
So she wanted this very much, she decided. But was this what Tony wanted? After a long day at the gym, was he just going to want to come home and sleep?
Samantha had been gone back and forth in her head about this all evening, to the point she knew she was getting ridiculous. Sitting around Tony's place waiting for him was driving her silly, every scenario of how the evening could play out once he got home running through her mind. At one point, after she found herself staring at the kitchen counter, she'd taken her panties off; "easier access," she thought, "in case he simply wants to bend me over and take me right there." After 15 minutes of sitting around with no underwear, doubt set in and she pulled them back on.
That's how she'd found herself back in the bathroom, fussing in the mirror. And that's when she heard the sound of his key unlocking the front door.
.............
Tony took his time on the long march up the stairs. It had been a long day, and yet he wasn't in a hurry to get to his apartment. A wallowing trek really suited his mood. He had to prepare himself for another night without Sam.
She'd been gone two weeks but it felt like an eternity. They said absence made the heart grow fonder, but he didn't think it was possible to grow any fonder of her. He missed it all, from her wit, her intellectual acumen, her laugh, and her smile, to her demeanor: the way she carried herself, an always considerate but somehow still take-charge manner that extended into the bedroom (and only half the love they made was in the bedroom).
She was away in Florida for a work conference, but he knew how those conferences went - an hour or two in sessions, three or four hours at the club or hotel pool. He imagined how she'd look in her bikini, lounging about with little on. Sam was half-black, and the sun could change her complexion dramatically - from a pale brown into a delicious caramel. It made his belly burn just thinking about it, and thinking about how she was gone turned that pleasure into an ache. He'd laid in bed every night thinking about her, feeling himself, imagining the warmth of her soft parts against him, the small whimpers and moans she'd sound when they really got going. But memory was no substitute for the real thing.
Tony finally reached the door, unlocked it and entered, his mind resigned to another night alone. But something made him jump. A figure was walking down the hall towards him.
He stopped. It was Samantha. He knew as soon as he heard the words "Surprise! Happy birthday!" His heart immediately began racing at the sound of her voice, the void of loneliness filling over with joy.
She approached him quickly. He noticed she was in heels because of the sway of her walk closing the distance between them, and because they elevated her almost so their eyes were level. She held her arms out to him and they embraced in a deep kiss.
When the kiss was through he was still speechless. She looked into his eyes trying to get a bead on him. She could see a stunned smile on his face but he wasn't saying anything. "Hello?"
"Thank you." It was all he could stammer. He embraced her again and struggled to articulate his feelings. "I was so sad you wouldn't be here."
What a softy, she thought. Weren't personal trainers supposed to be incessantly gruff and hard-nosed? It was such a part of what drew her to him. "I caught an early flight back - sorry I didn't tell you on the phone."
"Don't be sorry!" He corrected her. "I really thought you'd forgotten my birthday."
"No way I could do that" she replied, her thoughts turning to the small gifts she had for him. She turned away, walking towards the kitchen, where a few presents and a single chocolate cupcake sat on the table. A full step behind, he didn't notice what was on the table. He was too suddenly taken in by what Sam was wearing.
She had on a short black dress, cut low in the back showing a large share of her upper back. The spaghetti straps were very thin, almost superfluous, clinging helplessly onto her bare shoulders. He noticed the garment was real snug around her waist too, extenuating the dramatic flair of her hips and accentuating the movement of ass as she walked away. The hem was just short enough to offer a peak-a-boo hint of lace surrounding her thighs where sheer black stockings ended. Those thick thighs that made his heart quicken, inspiring endless fantasies about how one might get between them...
