Other Thoughts.

Other Thoughts...

He is younger than her. Not one year or two years or even five years which could, kind of, fall into the age-mate category and be justifiable.

He is younger by fifteen years. By no standard is that acceptable either to her world, or his, or even generally. It is not a non-issue that could disappear into mainstream society anywhere in the world. It is, actually, an issue that would make them exist on the very edge of society, or in a minority group of other social exceptions.

She is forty and she looks it - by no means is she passable as mid-thirties. If anything, on a long day when she is tired, she looks forty five.

He is young, mid twenties and every inch the prince charming who could have almost any of the younger women, nay, any of the girls ready to start a new life with a well arranged match to one of the city's most eligible bachelors.

Plus, that's not all. He is from a well known and established family aka a rich family with business interests in Africa, Australia and India. He is the younger of two brothers, almost a prince if there ever was one.

By contrast she is middle aged, middle class and somewhat staid. A mother, a woman in a life filled with middle class experiences and firmly rooted in her own family, immediate, extended, past present and future. A well known, beloved face which is found at family events and their respective photographs in many a family album & mantelpiece.

Now, once all that is said and understood - when one looks away from all of it - having peeled it away from the human being that each one is - the narrative changes.

He is deeply spiritual, sensitive and hard working, focussed on the business that he runs alongside his brother. But he gets bored of the predictable women thrust upon him by well meaning relatives, preferring instead a spontaneous connection. Looking for a meeting of minds, interesting conversations and someone aligned to what he envisions for his business.

And that's what he finds in her.

Unfortunately.

She is everything he wants his other half to be... beautiful? Maybe not. But elegant, yes. Attractive, yes. Deep eyes that actually respond as he talks. When he talks about the spaces he wants to build and how they should look - guiding him, disagreeing with him, patiently and clearly putting her case forward until he understood how she her ideas could only improve his ideas.

And beautiful or not, sexy she certainly was. He could tell that she exercised regularly from the confident and strong way she carried herself. From the well toned arms and shoulders. The neck structure and the long legs generally clad in not-exactly-cheap jeans. (The difference was, she worked for them while his were ... well just there, purchased without second thought.)

Again, having looked beyond that, when neither were identified with their circumstances, there was a silent communication. When they were at his office, fine-tuning the latest project, there was only a complete, intellectual communication that left both of them immensely satisfied.

There was no laughter, it was always serious. Nor were there any casual or personal remarks. It was always to the point and if there were any extra words, they were only pleasant hellos and goodbyes. And that was why, one evening, as they concluded a meeting, he couldn't find it in himself to face yet another evening with his friends. All he wanted was to remain in the meeting room and continue working with her. Keep talking about the project and the latest selections. He wouldn't say it - he know she had to get back to her family.

But quite to his surprise, she picked up her things and made her way to her office, settling down at her computer to work. He went about his own things but watched, thinking she would leave any minute now. But she did not... and so he settled down at his desk - watching her, the thoughts crossing her face as she typed. Her legs crossed, back straight and that frown that he had so gotten used to. The way she reached between her shoulder blades when she was tired. He though the might stand behind her chair and rub her shoulders, imagining that she would sigh and maybe lean back to relax.

He knew he wanted her. He dare not admit it to himself, neither did he want to think of her in that way out of respect for their working relationship. (and her family). But damned if he didn't want to reach for her hand when they sat across each other in his office. Now in the evening light, with the light rainfall and that almost magical twilight hour he really did want to go up to her, have her stand up and take her in his arms.

He didn't know what would happen next. A warm sisterly hug? A kiss? Would she spurn him ("Of course!" said the sane half of his brain) or would she soften and perhaps rest her palms on his chest? Would she allow him to trace her collar bone? ("No!" said the sane half, again)

And so on and so forth went his thoughts. He was startled when she switched off her light and immediately brought himself to the present, adjusting his trouser under his desk and quickly pretending to look at his screen.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she said, easing his glass door open and smiling that tired smile of hers. The one which he wanted to replace with a warm personal one just for him.

Months passed. He thought his errant thoughts would pass too. They didn't. Until one fine weekend , having faced an ultimatum to settle down (& get married), he grouched his way into the office. He was looking for peace and quiet to work out the details of his latest project. And she was there - wearing cut-offs and a tee-shirt with open sandals. Sitting cross-legged on her office floor, munching tortillas with cheese and wine and looking at a spread of the very drawings he wanted to work on.

He had never seen her like that. The thoughts that sped through him were crazier than ever, her hair was down - long and beautiful. Her legs were incredibly long and well shaped and without make - up, relaxed and softly scented he couldn't believe it was her. Her scrawl on the drawings was flowing and bold... her curves were just perfect. He had visions of having her in his bed, head on his chest, his fingers tracing her shoulder.

A soft sound of her clearing her throat brought him to the present and he again shook his head, saying hello and slipping into their normal work talk. Both totally forgot that it was a weekend until hours later when evening fell that she sat back, as always reaching towards the back of her neck.

This time, he couldn't stop himself, he reached over and skillfully rubbed that knot of tension that she was trying to ease out. And yes she did lean back into his palm and sigh before she realized what was happening and jerked away. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," he said, realizing what he had done. Seeing his hurt expression she softened - but she also saw what any woman, as experienced as she was, would see. Desire.

"Rihan..." she started, whispering because she was unsure, frightened. She shouldn't be, but she was. She was because his touch had sparked something in her and her pulse was racing. "I.. you.. . what was that...?" she asked although she did not want the answer. She was, as if, paralyzed - if her mind was present, she would have wished she had never come into the office that day. But right now she was trembling, her eyes, almost involuntarily fell to his mouth and her hand flew to her throat.

Again, he could not stop himself - he cupped her face in his hands and kissed her - gently at first but then deepening as she responded. And how she responded! He had never been kissed the way she kissed him back - her lips parting softly, capturing his lower lip between hers. Then his upper lip - her mouth soft but voluptuous and sensuous. They fell onto the carpet as he reached towards her, her hair spreading below her, his fingers twining themselves into the long silky locks. It went on for what seemed like an hour and a second at the same time, until she came up for air - her eyes opened and he found himself falling into the deepest pools of brown he had ever seen.

Her scent was heady, it swirled around them - so gentle that he couldn't put his finger on it but enough to make him dip his head and trail kisses on her neck - tasting velvety skin, reaching lower into the V of the tee-shirt, his hand on her hip and his leg between hers. He couldn't bear the thought of letting her go, realizing how attached he had become to her. Something he though was completely inappropriate was suddenly feeling perfect. Her hands were indeed splayed on his chest and she was looking at the triangle of hair peeping at the open collar of his shirt.

His hand slipped under her tee-shirt, finding a flat stomach and soft flesh at her hip - the red welt where the jeans settled into her skin was incredibly sexy and he rubbed along that, easing her button open and rubbing his thumb ever so slowly where the fabric gave way. She arched upward and his erection pressed into the softness of her belly. Her moving beneath him aroused him further & her fingers undoing his shirt buttons were also driving him crazy.

She pushed the shirt back and ran her palms over his chest, sliding fingers through his chest hair & sliding palms across his nipples. He slid has hand around her waist and reached inside her jeans to feel her buttocks, pulling the jeans so that the seams rubbed her clit. Her sharp intake of breath made him stop and search her face, only to see exactly what he was feeling. He needed her, he needed to see her - pulling up her tee-shirt and exposing her bra frustrated because he couldn't undo anything.

She chuckled gently, sensing his frustration and sat up, undid it & pulled it all off in one smooth motion. He moaned at the fullness of her breasts, the large nipples hardening as he watched - he swooped down and took each one in his mouth, feeling their softness and rubbing/kneading with his hands, unaware of the effect he was having on her.

She was practically on the edge of an orgasm because of the intensity with which he was suckling her - her jeans felt incredibly tight and her clit was swollen. At one point it seemed as if he would have her entire breast in his mouth. But then he wanted more. He pulled her jeans down, feeling up her soft pussy - she was completely waxed and soft. The wet, warm and silky softness drove him nearly insane - he could barely hold it together until she simply thrust her hips upward to allow him to penetrate in one fluid motion.

She met each of his thrusts with a strong one of her own - her breasts pushing against his chest, her hands cupping his buttocks and her pussy clenching tightly round him - until he came - his entire universe unraveling and righting itself in her arms. She followed, her eyes closing even as she sought his out - feeling as if there was nothing else in the universe except him and this moment with him.

To Be Continued...