She unlocked the door and he held it as he followed her inside. The dim blue light of the aquarium and street lights filtering through misaligned blinds onto the sofa and side table. Night lights illuminated the kitchen and hallway. He followed her inside and stood behind her as she slowly placed her keys in the basket by the door.
The smallish, two-bedroom house was nothing fancy. But it was a house, and she (and the bank) owned it and this couldn't be a bad thing. The cushy red sofa was inviting but a bit too large for the small space of the living room. Opposite it was a humungous entertainment center that, too, was rather massive for the space. An area rug separated the two with a tiny red chair at the far end. An ad-hoc computer station sat in the near corner.
She had stopped short upon entering, skillfully forcing him into her. Giving him no choice but to press his body up against her from behind. Confined in the entry-way he put a hand on her hip and gestured her in with the other. The door was still open and the cold January air was invasive. She stood firm as he began to move, pushing back into him, his arms folding around her, holding her in a way she had desired for months, if not years.
She was wearing skirt as he had suggested, rather alluded to, in their chat. Much of the present heat was from the game. Their slowly progressing on-line chats, growing from the seed of a simple wink. It had taken both of them some time to learn how to navigate the online dating universe. Which service to use and the always annoying profile. Then dodging scams and marketing accounts; filtering for the basics such as location and age; children; drink/smoke; and, most importantly, the photo (it'll never work if there isn't at least some level of physical attraction). Eventually a wink linked the two profiles in a potential match.
He loved skirts. The way they compliment the female form. The way they enticed and teased. Short ones that compelled you to look every chance you could; the ones naughty girls wore. Long ones that accentuated the hips and moved in the breeze; the ones good little church girls wore. He loved them all. He loved them because it provided access. Access to that which men hunger for. Access to what he hungered for right now.
Her's was a bit on the slutty side; a jean skirt that went to just above her knees. Taking her lead he pressed his body against hers. He slid his hands down to her hips and pulled her in. She bent slightly in response and gently reciprocated the contact. He put his face in to her neck and inhaled deeply. Barely touching her skin with the tip of his nose he breathed her in; from her shoulder to her neck, and up her neck to that spot just behind the ear. She leaned her head to give him more access; sighing softly.
As the social etiquette of their introductory ice-cream date was replaced by a more animalistic mating ritual he reached down with both hands and began slowly pulling up her skirt; a clear indication of what he wished to do. Receiving no resistance he brazenly pulled it all the way up to her waist. A gust of cold night air blew in, and up, causing her to gasp and then shiver; it was maybe 10 degrees outside.
Wanting more, just not in the doorway, he pushed her in and finally was able to close the door. Locking it he turned around to find she'd gone into the room and was now casually standing there looking at the kitchen and down the hall. She had straightened her clothes out and put her purse down on the small red chair. She just stood there in the pale light and looked over her shoulder; inviting him to advance.
He walked towards her only to have her turn and slowly walk down the hall; asking him to follow with a subtle look. He did, slowly, mesmerized by her vision. She stopped in front of a full-length mirror at the end of the hall. It was gaudy but it filled its purpose and seemed to draw her into its presence. He came up behind her again and quietly looked over her shoulder into the glass.
They were both so fully aware of what was about to happen and no words were needed. They had been chatting with each other for nearly a month. The early chit-chat included things like family and friends; what they liked to eat, read and listen to. The pattern of the chats also indicated that they both had lives, and weren't weirdo's desperate for attention. Later, as it seemed there might be something there, they chatted about what they wanted out of life (meaning this relationship). Neither mentioned the 'M' word, but instead both eluded to a rather casual thing. Just some dating; no commitments; see what happens. Then, one night, the door was opened.
She had had a rather rough day and was getting emotional in her chat. At some point she just broke down and e-shouted (or is it i-shouted?) "I JUST NEED TO GET LAID!" The discussion quickly spiraled down to the issue, like a championship chess match getting down to the wire. Delicately phrased messages raced back and forth, both sides hoping to corner the other into submission.
"sam1809>How long's it been?"
"looking422>Months", she lied
"looking422>you?"
"sam1809>with another person? About the same" he lied in response; subtly opening a door while masking it with some good old self-deprecating humor at the same time.
"looking422>YES, with another person! Why, do you have sex with nobody?"
"sam1809>Are you saying I'm nobody? Aw, that's not nice. Besides, everybody does it. Don't you" he dared her to enter the room.
"looking422>Do what?" Like that door in the back of some older movie rental shops, she wanted to go in but was afraid. She needed someone to guide her there. She needed an excuse.
