It almost pained me to pour the drink. Wincing at the crackle as the warm amber caused the cubes to pop. Swirling the glass, in a practiced manner, a few times, as my eyes became fixed on the silhouette now poised in front of the terrace doors.
The thought of scotch this smooth didn’t need ice soon faded as the scene of a recent event replayed. Taking me back to the vestibule, a quiet exchange of greetings. How she asked “Half day?” with a weary grin. I had nodded and offered a brief explanation. My curiosity as to her unaccustomed tardiness resulted in a groan and a look of minor distaste. A meeting held her after work followed by a Q and A session that she had no desire to attend but unfortunately had no choice.
Rising up on tiptoes as she moved closer looking over my shoulder, “Any regulars?”
When I had informed her “No, just a bunch of newbies I have never seen before” an expression of ‘ Perfect end to a perfect day’ formed on her face. In what could be called a pout she shared the fact that she did not like to drink alone.
“If you like….” I started carefully, “I don’t live very far and …” Her arm slipped under mine and I continued to tell her about the view as we went through the doorway.
Now, A half an hour later, stepping up behind her, bodies nearly touching, putting my head over her shoulder, so our faces are almost cheek to cheek. Hardly startled by my approach.
I extend my arm out and start to point to the south. Tilting her head to follow where the finger leads. In tones just above a whisper I begin to explain about the various buildings. How when night falls the Empire State will be shrouded in Red, White and Blue. How the silvery spire of the Chrystler building catches the last golden rays of the setting sun like a facetted jewel. How that sometimes the stars of above appear to be here on earth.
Silently she listened, leaning back into my chest. Instinctively a hand went her hip, her perfume, like wildflowers, caused me to pause.
Trying to draw her attention to the park below, I found myself peering at the silver chain nestled between her bosom. Feeling a blush take me as I realize that she has noticed that I have stopped speaking. . Clearing my throat, I mentioned that her drink was on the coffee table. My attempt to cover my guilt yielded a chuckle.
While she turned and walked away my eyes followed, watching her hips sway, the bounce of her blonde hair, the skirt just the right length, her sexy legs in stockings the same shade as her skin and those heels. Good God those heels. Dangerous and sleek, black and sinister. Each step, a click on the hardwood floor.
Taking a seat and her first sip, I made my way over. Sitting on the arm of the couch behind her. She moaned into her glass as I slipped my hands on her shoulders and squeezed. Pressing my thumbs in to half arcs, again and again. Rolling the pads over the knots of tension. Feeling the warmth through the material, wondering if she knew how the little moans are affecting me.
Deftly removing the clip, letting the luxurious mane cascade down. Moving to the back of her neck, finally actually touching the smooth skin. Fingertips first gliding up, before curling slightly and raking down. Time and again, inching, little by little, massaging the scalp. The base, the crown, the temple, each rewarded by a gasp, a moan, a weighted sigh. Then with spread rigid fingers, through her silky hair stroking.
Leaning back and resting her head on my thigh, as she stretched out, I spied her legs again. The sound of a shoe hitting the floor was followed another. Looking again I met her eyes. “You have incredible legs” to which I added” and I like your shoes too.”
“You do huh?”
Nodding “Oh yes, very nice…they have a very distinct descriptive name don’t they?” I felt a bit guilty for the blush that rushed to her face ,but she eased my mind with a warm grin.
As I got up she put the glass on the table. Sitting in the far end while she settled in the crook of the sofa, legs extended, her feet resting in my lap. Sharing another smile, gently taking hold with both hands. Her eyes, half closed, a visage of growing relaxation.
As soft at they were, a great massage requires actual contact. Her eyes grew wide when my hands slid up just beyond the hem of her skirt. I don’t know what was more pleasing for her, my boldness or the sensation of my hands all over her sexy legs stripping away the thigh highs.
Gripping again and lifting, kissing the top of the foot, looking up the length. Reaching under the back of the knee and pulling fingertips down, dragging over the calf to the ankle. Squeezing the heel first before driving firm thumbs covering the sole, splitting right and left at the ball.
Giving in to the sensation, tiny oohs and ahs becoming more common. Moving her other foot in a playful method in my lap, toes wiggling and gliding across the tautness on the jeans.
Along the shin, delivering kiss after light kiss, breaking contact only long enough to move up. Surrounding her knee, then passing. The definite texture of my tongue, broadly sweeping the inner side and a wicked grin forms as the result of her gasping sharply.
Searching blindly around the waist. Delicately undoing the buttons of the skirt, pulling it free from her body. Focusing now on the small black garment, all that bars me from paradise.
A stillness between us occurred as fingertips started to tug at the thin fabric . Expecting to find a tuft of the same blonde hair as I eased the silk past her hips, only to discover none. Pausing, breathlessly gazing at the bareness of her sex. So tempting, so inviting.
Unable to resist I moved in to kiss tenderly, and its’ softness was like that of rose petals. Sensing the growing arousal, trying to show restraint, knowing it is a losing battle as her intoxicating scent draws me in closer, salivating in anticipation.
Finding myself lost in the moment, realizing I should look up at her, but unable. Her taste, her searing heat of her essence, holding me utterly captivated.
Her hand positioned with nails almost biting at the back of my head, then placing a foot flat on the floor, gaining leverage, arcing herself up, furthering our junction.
Nimble fingertips part the dawn-tinted bliss, marveling at this sight, delighting, and nearly losing myself to the hunger. I turn my head, letting my tongue flatten and glide the edge along the folds. Licking and lapping, feeling her body shutter with each brush. Texture pressed against smoothness.
Dipping and delving, probing softly, going only so far before driving back up to the little hood. Carefully weaving a delicate dance of flicks and flutters over and around the tiny nub, now swollen and a deeper shade of crimson
Each nerve on fire as her rolling moans turn quickly to sharp panting. She was drawing close to what I had hoped would be the first of many this evening. Words gasping out, pleading out not to stop, to which I had no intention.
Her own words urging my own excitement, firing my own arousal fiercely. Devouring her, drawing her closer and closer.
Her leg hooking firmly over my shoulder as the other darted forward, locking out, toes spread wide. Her head pushing into the cushions, while her back straightened. Through clenched teeth a mantra of “yes”, being growled with each breath.
