Smiling as he stepped out of the lift, John walked briskly through the hotel's front lobby and made his way to the bar. As he stepped through the doorway into the bar he spotted her, sitting at a table in the corner. As John walked towards her table she spotted him and raised her hand as he noticed a flash of recognition cross her face. As he bridged the distance between them, she gave him a slightly nervous smile.
As she'd sat in the bar waiting for John, Emma had found it hard to believe that she was actually doing this. She'd hesitated about coming here for almost a month, changing her mind several times every day since she'd first agreed to this meeting. Even during the taxi journey from her place to the hotel where John was staying she had began composing a last minute text apologising that she wasn't going to be able to make it. The taxi had pulled into the hotel car park before Emma had had time to finish and send her message and she had found herself sitting anxiously in the bar waiting for John to arrive.
When she'd spotted him walking through the door, Emma's heart had missed a beat. At least the photographs he had sent her had been accurate, she thought to herself. He was taller than she'd expected although he had told her that he was 5'10". He was well dressed, but she'd expected that, quite strongly built and, most importantly of all, quite good looking. She wouldn't have agreed to this meeting in the first place if he hadn't been Emma reflected to herself as she stood to greet him, wondering if his first impressions of her were as favourable as hers were of him.
As Emma stood up, John's smile broadened. He found the nervous smile that she awarded him strangely endearing. She was exactly as she'd described herself, about 5'4" with medium length, dark brown hair hair that framed an attractive face to which a minimum of make-up had been applied. The long dress that she had chosen to wear, whilst neither particularly tight or overly revealing, suggested a figure that was toned and yet generously curved at the same time. His smile of greeting turned to one of appreciation as he neared her table.
Emma's heart pounded. As John closed the gap between them, she felt her nervousness abate and decided she was content to wait and see where this evening took her.
They had 'met' online in a chatroom and had quickly struck up a conversation that had been open, frank and ultimately intimate. As their 'relationship' had developed they had exchanged e-mail addresses, photographs and finally mobile phone numbers. Since they both had partners in the 'real' world, neither of them had expected anything serious to happen and both had been happy to enjoy pursuing what they called their electronic affair to the full. Content to flirt outrageously online and send each other messages, by text or e-mail, that were occasionally highly suggestive, neither of them had ever anticipated, living as they did at opposite ends of the country, that they would ever experience anything more than the harmless fun they enjoyed together.
It had been John who had suggested they should meet the next time he was in London. It had been asked jokingly more than with any serious intent. They both knew of the others' commitments and John had fully expected Emma's reply telling him that she'd 'have to think about it'. He had been pleasantly surprised when, a few days later, she had contacted him to tell him that she thought she might be able to make it. In the intervening weeks they had painstakingly made the arrangements that had led them both to be here at this time.
Even as the bent forward to greet each other with a kiss, neither had any idea what the others' intentions were. From the moment he had walked into the bar and had seen Emma sitting there waiting for him, John had decided that he would be happy to share whatever company Emma was willing to give and was content to wait and see where this evening took him.
As their lips met, Emma experienced a suddenly overwhelming sensation of desire that she had been totally unprepared for. An excited tingle ran up her spine. "Can I get you a drink?" John asked. Fighting down emotions that she felt she shouldn't be experiencing, Emma managed to find the words to ask for a dry white wine and soda. Overwhelmed by a sudden surge of conflicting emotions, Emma sat down and watched as John made his way to the bar.
"There you are," John said, depositing two glasses on the table and taking the seat next to Emma's. "You decided to come after all then, I see," he said.
Emma took a sip of her drink and nodded. "Y ... yes," she said, "but I'll be honest and admit that I nearly backed out at the last minute." She shrugged then added, "I'm still not sure what I'm doing here. I ... I can't quite believe I'm actually doing this."
John smiled. "I know what you mean," he said, "It's a little odd to say the least. Nervous?"
Emma nodded again. "A little, I guess," she said.
"Me too," John admitted. "You ever done this before?"
Emma gave her head a barely perceptible shake. "No," she said quietly, "have you?"
"Once," John admitted, "about a year ago. To be honest, it was a total disaster. I hope this time it's better in fact, it already is, I've already had more conversation with you than I did with her."
Emma found John's manner disarming and relaxed. She laughed. "It can't have been that bad, surely?" she asked.
John smiled again. "OK, I may be exaggerating," he admitted, "but not by much."
As their nervousness dissolved they chatted more and more easily. The was something in John's easy-doing manner that put Emma at ease. His soft spoken, Scottish accent suited him in a way that Emma couldn't fathom. It had been the sound of his voice when they'd talked on the phone more than the way he looked in the photos he'd sent her that had first attracted him to her. Despite a constant nagging feeling that she shouldn't be here, Emma began to feel a tingling rush of anticipation.
They finished their drinks and John returned to the bar to get them some more. As he sat down, his knee brushed against hers and Emma experienced a flashing stab of arousal in response to that fleeting contact.