She viewed her reflection in the mirror on the bedroom wall. A long silk skirt flowed over the round curves of her hips, flatteringly accentuating their shape. A linen waistcoat nipped in at the waist and buttoned over her breasts just low enough to reveal the white lace edge of her bra. The golden skin on her bare arms gleamed from the light covering of oil she had smoothed on after her long soak in the bath. Dark hair tumbled over her shoulders in loose curls the way it always did when it was freshly washed. She smiled at herself, quietly pleased with what she saw.
Slipping her feet into sandals she scanned the room. A large bed, luxuriously swathed in a handmade patchwork cover in shades of green velvet. Cream walls were home to patterned canvases she painted, nearest thing to a gallery they would ever be in, she thought. A pine chest of drawers stood in the corner by the door draped in a silk scarf, the matching wardrobe against the opposite wall. Small lamps glowed on either side of the bed sending cones of light onto the ceiling, highlighting the gold flecks in the large colourful painting above the bed. This was her favourite room in the cottage.
The sound of the doorbell filled the tiny house, she hurried across the floorboards to answer the summons.
He stood on the step in front of the blue door, absentmindedly running his fingers through his thick grey hair, anticipating the evening ahead. They had met two weeks previously and had hit it off immediately and after two coffee dates and much communication through email and telephone, she had invited him to her home for supper. It had been a long time since he had met a woman who intrigued him as much as she, or, for that matter, with whom he felt as much chemistry. He hoped that tonight he would get to know her even better.
She opened the front door, and greeted him with a sweet smile - Welcome - she gestured with her hand for him to enter the small sitting room into which it led. The evening sun dappling through the bamboo blinds at the window was the only light in the room but still enough for her to appreciate the sight of him. Tall and slim, wearing a light wool jumper and casual blue jeans his feet slid into sandals that weren't dissimilar from her own, much favoured Birkenstocks. He really was a remarkably attractive man, she thought, becoming aware of the physical response she was feeling just by being in close proximity of him.
With the door closed she moved a little closer, enveloping him in an embrace, inhaling the fresh fragrance of his neck. Responding to her warmth he held her tightly and kissed her lightly on the lips, feeling an instant stirring of arousal, he released his hold and stepped back, he did not want to appear disrespectful.
-Something smells good.
He decided to play it safe and this was not a lie, the smell of the homemade lasagne bubbling in the oven had permeated the house and it did indeed smell good.
-Thank you. I hope it tastes good. Come on through to the kitchen, can I offer you a glass of wine?
Noticing her own gabbling, she silently checked herself, talking too much was something she always did when nervous and her physical reaction to this man made her very nervous.
-Yes, that would be lovely.
He stood transfixed, watching as she reached to a shelf for the glasses, seeing top and waistband parting company revealing smooth, tight skin, the movement of her breasts tantalising... He took a deep breath and looked away.
From the offered glass he took a deep draught, wondering how he would get through an entire meal with this woman, such was her allure.
Deciding to address the undeniable tension, she bent to the front of the Rayburn, opening the both the hot and warming oven, grabbing the towel that hung from the rail she carefully extracted the dish from one and placed it in the other, both heavy cream enamelled doors closed with a thud. She took a good sip of her wine and her courage in her hands.
