Devon stepped from the warmth of his car into the chilled evening. A breath of wind caught up a handful of newly fallen leaves, and they whipped and twirled around a streetlamp before drifting to the ground as the wind passed. The neighborhood was well established, with the 1930's Bungalow style houses canopied by century-old maples.
The house before him was, he admitted with a wry smile, far more charming in a slightly eccentric sort of way. A violet color vibrantly shaded the front door, and it was highlighted by the paler shades of purple that trimmed the eves. The house itself was a handsome soft grey color that worked well with the quirky purple pallet. Several huge trees draped over the house, which would probably shade it throughout the heat of the summer days. The yard was prettily landscaped, and neatly kept.
Very much the opposite living conditions from what he expected his lusty Jessamine to dwell. He had pictured a modern loft, with hard lines and metal accents, not this picturesque vision of homey comfort.
He shrugged off his curiosity as he bounded up the steps. Their relationship, if you could call it that, was based on sex. Nothing more and nothing less. She, according to her online profile and their typed conversations, wanted to explore her most private of fantasies. The desires that dwell within the heart, but which are rarely ever expressed. Perhaps, as he thought on it, the house made quite a bit of sense. Jessamine, or whatever her real name was, was probably the complete opposite in nature than as she was portraying to him.
Three quick raps on the door announced his presence, and he waited. A clumping sound descended what he assumed were stairs, and approached the door. He wondered what the heck she was wearing, but figuring it was better than the bare feet that she wore on their first encounter. And from there, his thoughts wandered a week back to her seemingly endless legs wrapped tightly around his waist as he pumped into her hot, welcoming pussy.
Rather than paste a pleasant expression on his face to hide the lascivious thoughts racing through his mind (something he would have done on a normal date), Devon allowed his every thought show as Jessamine opened the door. Her breath caught audibly at the sight of him smiling at her in a suggestive manner. Without saying a word, that first five seconds spoke volumes. He raked his eyes up and down, taking in the glorious sight of her.
Jessamine's boyishly-short black hair was mussed artfully, allowing the graceful architecture of her face and long arch of her neck to show. Her make-up was minimal but for a rosy shine on her lips, but the lack of paint emphasized the erotically fullness of her lips. She wore a short dress that moved with the lithe curves of her body. It's muted mossy green color and simple lines would have been casually classy, but for the long, belled sleeves that turned classy to charmingly flirty. A bright yellow, heart-shaped stone draped around her neck, and hung so low that it drew the eye to where it was nestled, happily between Jessamine's bountiful breasts. Climbing from the top of her knee-high, combat boots was a dragon, etched onto the lace of her black leggings.
A peculiar assortment of clothing, but somehow Devon found it refreshing. Here was a woman that marched to her own tune. He could imagine her in the sleek little number that most women would have chosen with a night of seduction in mind. Maybe even dressing down into a pair of jeans and a simple top. Yet this outfit was so unique and unexpected, that he found it erotic all the same. Especially the chains on the boots.
As the flowery perfume that was Jessamine swept through his senses, his semi-hard erection sprang painfully to attention. It was only the remembrance of the plans he had made that kept him from foregoing the evening in lieu of wild, passionate sex up against her door, down on her hardwood floor, on the stairs and beyond. He didn't know what she was really like in her world, but he was exceedingly grateful for whatever prompted her to go looking for a man to fulfill her unspoken fantasies.
"Trouble," he said with a smile, "you are definitely trouble."
She slid her arms around his neck, and pressed her body full against his. Feeling the obvious proof of his desire for her, she smiled wickedly. "That," her tongue slipped out to lick along the line of his lips, "was precisely the point."
He took her mouth with his, pressing down on the cushion of her lips with savage viciousness. His tongue plunged into the heat of her mouth, sliding along her tongue, and stealing her breath away. It might have been punishment, a reprimand for her audacity, had she not responded in kind. Her tongue battled fiercely with his, and her ripe body rubbed suggestively against his. It was a losing battle, and before he succumbed to her, Devon broke the kiss with a hissing reluctance.
"We'll never get to the theater," he panted, his forehead pressed against hers, "if we keep this up."
"And I've always had a thing for dark theaters." Devon took her hand, and pulled her away from the house and into his car. As he slid into the driver's seat, Jessamine whistled appreciatively, "This is one sweet ride."
"I use it to seduce the ladies," he said wryly.
