She is lying in bed, in that lovely, peaceful state - floating between no longer asleep, yet still not awake.
The mattress below, reassuringly firm, still yielding easily to her weight. Toasty warm, cocooned under the heavy quilt. Her head sinking into the soft embrace of the deep pillow and her blonde hair fanned out like a halo.
The linen was replaced only yesterday and so the memory of lovely crisp sheets was still lingering. The clean scent of fresh laundered clothes still hinted at.
As her thoughts become more lucid, more attuned to the present she rolls onto her back. Stretching out like a cat in the sunshine and bringing her hands to her belly. Gliding effortlessly across the sheets.
'That's right' she thinks, smiling indulgently. She remembers last night before going to bed putting on her special silk negligee. Not for show since she was happily alone. Simply for herself.
Deep, glossy red in colour it speaks of fresh pitchers of sangria on a tropical summer beach. Thin strings across the shoulders hold up the edges of a neckline that plunges down to the top of her cleavage. The fit, although not at all firm, is perfectly moulded to her figure. In this way ensuring that it always stays in the correct location, like a second skin. Flaring slightly past the hips and finishing far short of mid-thigh. A slit on one side reaches high up past her hip allowing free range of movement for her, as well as flashing glimpses of her entire leg as she takes each step. The total effect, she knew, was scandalous. Covering more of herself than many of the outfits she would occasionally wear in public, this hinted at so much more, being nothing short of erotic.
Stretching out like a cat, she leaves one leg straight and pulls one knee out to the side. A gentle tug against the soft flesh of her mound draws her attention between her legs. Reminding her of the other part of this outfit. Also red in colour, but so thin and sheer as to almost barely exist, the tiny scrap of material started low at the front, barely covering bare mound and wrapping around her soft lips before disappearing into a thin strip between her cheeks. Where most underwear was firm, stretching to conform to all the soft mounds and curves contained within, these are forgiving, readily yielding and almost without reinforcement to cause any discomfort. Staying in place purely through the curve of her hips and the hunger of the fabric to remain close to that which it loves so dear.
Squirming a little, rolling her hips and shoulders, she feels the negligee lightly kissing her small breasts. She feels herself responding, surprisingly quickly the tips of her sensitive breasts start to tighten.
She lazily trails the fingers of one hand up across her ribs. Over her breast and circling the ever-tightening points. Sending small shivers down inside of her, from her breasts, through her belly and into her abdomen where a knot of tension is starting to form. At last, running the tips of her fingers over her nipples, gasping out loud at the shock of pleasure as she pinches them between thumb and finger.
Tracing her other hand across her flat stomach, down across her hip and to the inside of her thigh. Then back up, under the silk dress to trace the outline of her puss. She feels the heat there as she rolls her hand in slow circles. Her fingertips gently pushing into her slit, soaking the material in her gathering juices.
Her thoughts lazily drift to who's hand she would enjoy replacing hers right now. Almost with a start the face of her neighbour comes to her.
Some years older than her, maybe late 30's? He had moved in to the apartment next door 6 months ago. Clearly having different schedules, they passed each other regularly in the halls as one always seemed to be leaving for somewhere as the other came home. First out of courtesy they had simply greeted each other, but it was not long before they had built an easy rapport. He seemed a little shy, almost embarrassed to talk to her at first - more like she got from the boys at her previous high-school than she expected from a grown man. He was however, always perfectly polite and sweet; unlike all the men she knew her own age!
She on the other hand was always happy to speak her mind and make jokes. And after seeing his ready smile, was determined to draw him out of the shell he seemed to hide in. So, gradually, an easy banter had developed between them as they bridged the gap toward friendship.
She had learnt that he had moved in after his divorce had settled. He had not gone into any real detail over the past relationship, although she was at least sure there were no children involved. It was in any case clear the wound was still raw since he would refuse to go into any more detail when pressed. His eyes would go distant and his attention would wander as the thread of conversation would inevitably fall away. It felt in those moments as though he was carrying some great weight or burden, despite trying to maintain a brave face.
A handsome face, she thought, topped with a full head of wavy hair - light brown, almost blond from the summer sunshine. A sprinkle of grey shot through his beard if he'd not shaved in a few days, actually adding to his appeal in her opinion. But it was mostly his eyes that most captured her, the intensity of his gaze when he looked at her felt as if he was not just there listening to her, but listening with his entire being. Then, those times his smile reached them, the cute creases that formed at the corners and the sparkling glimmer of light in those green depths was mesmerising.
She was quite sure he found her attractive too. He was very subtle and tried hard to be polite, but she could still tell when his eyes travelled further than just her face. Almost physically feeling the desire in his gaze occasionally as she would walk away down the hall.
Thinking now of those eyes on her, she realised that she had slipped her hand under the thin fabric and was dipping a finger into the warm juice now flooding her slit. Drawing the moisture up to coat her clit as she rolled slow circles around the swollen bud.
Yes, she did like him looking at her she thinks to herself. Imagine if he saw me like this? Would that take his mind off his troubles? Heart pounding now; how far could she make him go?
He had invited her over for coffee hadn't he. A few times now. It would actually be rude if she didn't soon take him up on that offer.
She didn't want to be rude, did she? She smiled to herself as she climbed out of bed, throwing on her robe. Cut in a kimono style and complementing her negligee in colour and style, the sleeves were cut wide, the waist belted and the hem rested above the knee.
Pausing before the mirror to take a deep breath and consider the effect she wanted to present, she was happy with what she saw. As a child, she had been very active in gymnastics, training multiple times a week and competing at a national level. As a 21 year old woman, her competition days were now many years past of course. Injury and burnout claiming her from the sport just as it had all her contemporaries.
Still, the long hours of training over the years had served her well. She still ran trails in the summer and earned a good income giving aerobics and yoga classes at the local gym 5 times per week. The result looking back at her in the mirror was very satisfying.
She had been called stocky as a teen, mainly because she was not very tall and had more muscle developed than any of the typical kids. After she had tapered off from the intense physical training in her late teens however, she had grown a little taller to her 165cm whilst still maintaining fantastic tone showing the muscles rippling when she moved. The stockiness had also gone, replaced by graceful legs topped with a round butt, a flat stomach and, to her lasting disappointment, small breasts.
Her breasts; if only they had grown more as well, she thought, frowning at the A-cups sitting high on her chest and barely filling out her clothes. Although at least this way, she didn't really need to ever wear a bra, even when exercising. She would almost always have one on outside however, if only to keep her nipples from constantly showing through her blouses.
Padding across the soft rugs on her bare feet, she goes in to the kitchen and turns the pot on to boil. Pulling down the French press and fetching her beans from the fridge she grinds a portion with the antique mill. Tapping out the drawer into the pot before pouring in the boiling water. Grabbing a pair of mugs on her way, she heads to the front door.
Nervous now, she makes her way across the hall. What if he's not home? She thinks. What if he is?? What if he has company?
Well, nothing for it but to find out, she tells herself as she pushes the bell.
After what seemed an eternity, she hears the lock turn and sees the door being pulled open.
"Hi" she says smiling and brandishing the pot and mugs.
He just stands there. His eyes blinking, mouth slightly ajar. Clearly not expecting any company, let alone this. Clean shaven and wearing a neat charcoal business shirt without tie, the top half was very respectable. The bottom half however was clad simply in loose plaid pyjama pants.
"Nice suit" she says, eyeing him with a smirk.
"ah, oh, hm, thanks, work, home, ahh, video..." he stammers, clearly flustered whilst his brain tried to process what he is seeing.
"Oh, so you're busy then?" Pouting just a little.
"No, well, yes, but, umm the meeting, just finished..."
