You text me one foggy morning at 5 am.
"I'll be on a 4 hour layover at LAX. Can we get together for lunch?"
(Some quick reworking of my day...) then: "what time?"
"Flight gets in at 11."
"... Sure."
You give me the necessary airline info, and I snow my way out of work.
The next 5 hours are torture. Waiting wondering wishing and ... Waiting.
Fighting the traffic on the 10 and 405, I slide into the pick-up lane at LAX and find you waiting with a backpack slung over your shoulder, wearing 501 jeans and a button down blue shirt (which brings out your eyes). You smile, wave and step over to open the car door. As you slide in, I greet you with an awkward leaning-over-the-console-hug which feels very safe and friendly.
"Wow, so good to see you!"
You reply, "You too... Thanks for rescuing me from 4 hours of boredom."
"Where do you want to go? Are you hungry?"
"Later... Let's drive up the coast and see what looks good," you suggest.
The conversation continues as I make my way out of the LAX maze and over to the PCH. I learn you are on your way through to Phoenix for a job interview tomorrow, and we talk about the kids. It's funny how the struggles we have are almost identical. All at once you reach over and take my hand in yours. "Jen..." you whisper hoarsely, "are you really going to make me ask?"
I squeeze your hand, smile at you and pull my hand away.
I pull into a parking lot on the ocean side of PCH and shift into park, kill the engine and turn to face you. Our eyes lock and I lean in, pulling your face to mine to kiss you, finally.
As expected, the chemistry is perfect and sparks fly as we deepen the kiss. Your lips fit mine perfectly, your tongue darts in to taste me and I'm swept up in passion. My hands trail from your jawline down to your collarbone and flatten out to slide down your (rock hard) abs before resting on your waist. Your hands tangle in my hair as you hold my face still kissing me with an intensity I'd long forgotten. The mysterious responses all over my body from this one kiss are amazing: my nipples harden, my panties dampen, my heart races and it's as if the surf is pounding in my ears. My hands find your belt and seek to loosen it.
You break off the kiss to look around, survey our surroundings. It's the parking lot of an upscale seafood restaurant which opens for dinner at 5. No one is around, and the parking lot is deserted. The windshield looks out over the ocean, still shrouded in fog, so much so that in fact my car cannot be clearly seen from the road, so ensconced are we in the fine mist. You smile at me and shift the lever to ease your seat back. Grimacing from some residual shoulder and back pain, you find a comfortable spot and draw me over you. It's a bit awkward in your lap this way, but you are able to pull me down into a full body press and continue kissing me, your hands free to roam my body. Sliding your hand along my thigh and up my dress, you grab a handful of my tush and squeeze.