I was sick of posing for graduation pictures. This wasn't the real reason I had actually put on makeup and picked out my most curve-hugging maxi dress; nope, that was all because I had a feeling I would see him tonight.
"Come on, Sam, can we please finish this up?" My dear friend and photographer, Samantha, was being so patient with me: "You look so beautiful, Anna! But yes, we can go now. I got some good pictures!" Finally! We turned to walk out of the park, hopped into the car, and sure enough, I had just received a text from him.
'What are you up to?' he inquired. I told him, and said that we were heading to the Ferm to get a drink and hang out. 'I'll be there,' he said. Yes. I loved his assertiveness. He has such a gentle soul, but God, the air of mature confidence that he exerts draws me in like mad.
He's almost 15 years older than me, and I love it. I want him to show me everything he knows. I want his hands to explore every inch of my body, mapping out this uncharted territory. His lips... I shuddered. I can't even think about him without getting turned on. I crossed my legs in an attempt to feel less awkward with Sam sitting right next to me in the car.
We drove to the Ferm, ordered our wine and began to delve into our usual philosophical debates, but this time, I couldn't focus. My eyes and thoughts kept wandering towards the door, wondering when he was going to make his entrance. Make his entrance...okay, my mind is definitely in the gutter. I can't even think about fucking doorways without thinking about fucking...never mind.
Just then, I spot him as he walks into the bar, his slender but athletic body (he's a triathlete and a yogi), his thick black hair, tanned skin and radiant smile that is framed by his always-perfectly-unshaven stubble. Half Cuban and half Iranian, he far surpasses the stereotypical idealistic image of tall, dark and handsome. I wonder what his body looks like without the burdensome cover of clothing...Stop it, Anna. Play it cool.
He slowly strut over to our table, and kissed me on the cheek-hesitated for a moment as we lock eyes, air dripping with sexual tension—and then kissed me on the other cheek. "Hola, Anna," he greeted me. I was starting to tremble and could barely muster a "Hey, Carlos." GOD. I felt the wetness between my legs beginning.
Sam looked at me, eyes wide. She could feel the tension, too.
As I watched him walk to the bar for his beer, all I could focus on was how badly I wanted to tear his clothes off and run my hands all over his body, his chest, how badly I wanted to press my warm flesh against his.
When he came over and sat down, our legs were barely touching, my body heated with passionate electricity. He grabbed my hand and ran his fingers in between mine, rubbing me in exactly the way I was craving him to rub my pussy.
He asked if I wanted to come out and sit at the picnic table with his friends and band mates. Your friends? I thought to myself, Great, they have no idea we are seeing each other, so now I can't touch you anymore...
We went out and sat down; it was an agonizing hour, since he was sitting at the opposite side of the table from me. We kept looking at each other, and I could see that he wanted me, too.
I could see little flames dancing in his eyes when he looked at me. Eventually, it was getting late and Sam had to go pick up her husband from his office. I was going to get a ride with her, so I stood up to leave.
Carlos pushed himself up from the table and swept me off to the side, my back pressed up against the courtyard fence. He looked at me with his eyes of fire and pressed his lips against mine. The outside world fell away as his hands firmly groped my backside, pulling me into his hardness. He asked me if he could take me home, instead.
