The door closed with a gentle noise and the only light in the room came from the flicker of fire from several candles scattered about. The aroma of lavender filled the air. Amy's senses were heightened by excitement as she sat in anticipation in the cream-colored, soft hotel chair. The bed sheets had already been pulled down. The smooth blue silk shimmered in the low glow.
She brought her glass of red wine to her lips and sipped. She'd never done this before. Her heart pounded with nerves beneath her breast and there was a slight tremor in her hand.
The man across from her wasn't tall but rather about her height, as she'd requested. His brown hair was a shaggy mess of waves and fell around his ears, and dark, compassionate curious eyes looked at her with a gaze that made her feel seen--and wanted.
Amy's eyes fell past his chest--taught and firm beneath the fabric of his white buttoned shirt--to the bare forearms, exposed thanks to his rolled up sleeves. His build was apparent already but the muscles of those arms were tight ropes that led the eyes down to strong hands with broad palms and able fingers.
Amy ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip and let her teeth nibble at the soft skin beneath.
"Hello," he said with a nod of his head. He smiled, and when he did Amy felt her nerves release a bit. He wasn't intimidating. There was a gentleness to the way he said the word and that smile was warm and understanding.
"Hi," she said, but it got caught in her throat. Amy repeated, "Hi," with more voice. "Oliver?" she asked.
The man nodded. "That's me," he said and flashed the smile again. "Mind if I come in a bit more?"
Amy shook her head. She sipped at her wine again.
Oliver stepped further inside and the candlelight illuminated him more. He wore a pair of smooth black pants which had been ironed with nice creases. A black leather belt shone around his waist, and a pair of equally black shoes completed the ensemble.
He was exactly as she'd requested over the phone.
"How's your evening been? Amy, right?" Oliver asked. He approached her with grace, his shoes making no sound upon the carpet, and gestured to a chair near her. "May I sit?"
Amy nodded. "Fine," she whispered and found herself grinning in embarrassment. Her cheeks burned with a sudden blush and she hid behind her wine glass again. Was she really doing this?
Oliver offered his smile again as he sat. It was lascivious or knowing about what was going to transpire, but welcoming and calming. He could see her emotional state and he was making space for her. He leaned forward in the chair a bit, his elbows on his knees, and folded his hands together beneath his chin. Oliver's dark eyes searched her own. Amy looked at his arms again. His skin was a dark tan made golden by the candlelight.
"You've never done this before," he said gently.
"No," Amy admitted and shook her head. Her long brown hair brushed her bare shoulders with the motion.
"Is there more wine?" Oliver asked and raised an eyebrow while he tilted his head to the left towards the bottle upon the table. Amy couldn't take her eyes away from his. They never left her gaze.
She bit her lip and nodded from behind the wine glass in front of her mouth. The grin remained on her face and now her neck felt hot.
Oliver removed his hands from beneath his chin--his eyes finally moved away from hers--and with his left arm reached over to the bottle. His hand wrapped around the label--she saw the musculature and tendons work--and he lifted and slowly poured into one of the glasses. The red liquid fell in a soft stream and the sound accompanied the pounding heartbeat in her ears. An irrational thought of Oliver possibly hearing the sound jumped into her mind.
He placed the bottle back down, took the glass and raised it to his lips. Oliver once again looked her as he took a long sip.
"What do you do, Amy?" he asked. His voice was a baritone. It was smooth and soft but with a slight vibration as if it arose from somewhere deep in his chest.
Amy swallowed and cleared her throat. She finally brought the glass down from her face and held it in her lap with both hands. The forefinger of her right hand stroked at the glass as she kept looking into Oliver's eyes.
"I'm a student. A grad student."
"And what does the student study?" he asked, grinned, and sipped again at the wine.
"Neuroscience," Amy said. She tucked her chin down a bit and pulled her lips inwards as her smiled broadened.
Oliver's eyebrows lifted in interest.
"Brain stuff," he said. "I'm impressed."
"Yeah," she whispered. "And I teach undergrads a little bit."
"And a teacher," Oliver said. "Attractive."
Amy let out a small giggle and brought the glass back up to her lips to hide again.
"Where do you do all this?" he asked.
"MIT."
"And why are you in New York tonight?"
"I had a conference," Amy said. "I had to present."
"I'm impressed again," Oliver said and leaned forward once again to close the distance between them. "How did it go?"
Amy chewed her lip and looked at his dark eyes. Small wrinkles adorned beyond the outside corners and somehow amplified his gentleness. How old was he? Was this how these things went? He was so...personable.
"I don't do talks well," she said softly.
"Is that what they said, or is that what you're telling yourself?" Oliver asked and tilted his head a bit.
Amy smiled again. "Me. To myself."
"May I?" he asked and reached a hand out towards her--palm up.
Amy looked down and saw the thick pads, the firm thumb muscle and the lines and creases.
She nodded and placed her hand in his.
Oliver placed his wine glass back on the table. He put his other hand upon hers and she disappeared between them. They were warm and smooth. He applied a firm pressure and rubbed along her skin. His eyes looked down upon his hands as he worked.
"Who does Amy want to be tonight?" he asked.
Her left hand still held her wine glass, now in her lap, and she felt it shake a bit. She wondered if he could feel her right hand shaking too.
"I don't know," she said, soft again.
"Should we find out?" Oliver asked and his eyes jumped up to hers.
Amy realized she hadn't been breathing and suddenly took a big inhale as her heart pounded at the question. She felt hot between her legs.
Her grin was gone, as was his. There had been a quick shift in his manner--but not aggressive or intimidating. He now radiated an energy that wanted to guide her, not just comfort her. And she wanted to go with it.
Amy nodded.
Oliver removed one hand from hers and reached for her wine glass. She gave it over to him and he placed it next to his on the table with a gentle
tink
of the glass upon the stone top.
He stood and pulled slightly on her hand to lift her from where she sat. Amy let herself be shown how to move. Her legs felt loose and uncertain. Her knees shook.
Oliver moved an arm slowly around her waist, but hovered in the air for a moment before touching her. He looked into her eyes and searched. Then he asked, "May I touch you?"
She nodded again, her voice trapped in her throat.
"I love your voice, may I hear it?" he asked and smiled.
Amy swallowed and her voice came out in a breath: "Yes, please touch me."
His hand fell upon her waist and wrapped around to the small of her back. Amy felt his fingers through the thin soft dress she wore. Her chest rose and fell with her now deep breaths.
Oliver lifted her left hand with his right, as if holding her in dance form, and interlaced his fingers with hers.
"May I bring you closer?" he asked.
"Yes," she gasped and nodded.
He pulled at her back and she moved towards him. Her breasts pressed into his chest and her face was inches from his. She could smell him. He wasn't perfumed. There was no cheap cologne. Oliver was...clean. He was fresh air. She could breathe.
"May I kiss you?" Oliver asked. His voice was soft, deep and small, but it encompassed her entire existence in that moment.
"Yes please," she whispered back, and it was she this time who made the move--a desperate passioned move of her lips to his.
She skipped the soft kiss. The months of stress of her studies and teaching exploded in a violent need for this man. Her right hand wrapped around his upper back and pulled him in tight against her. She pushed her hips inwards and Oliver understood and pressed with his hand at her back to guide her in rhythmic movements.
Between the deep searches of their mouths for one another they broke away for fast breaths. Amy let groans escape from her throat. Oliver moved his right hand away from where it clasped hers and began to touch at her hair. He found her ear and moved his fingers along the lobe and down her jawline. He paused and pulled back an inch from her soft lips and looked in her eyes.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"Please keep going," she said and reached across the gap to find his mouth with hers once more.
Over the next few moments, as her tongue sought to touch his teeth lightly, Amy felt him press her ever so gently towards the bed behind her. She allowed to be taken and moved her feet with his. Soon her legs reached the edge.
Amy broke her lips away from his. Her breathing was intense and heavy.
She slowly sat down upon the mattress.
Oliver stepped back, his eyes on hers as he'd become so good at maintaining. His strong hands moved to the first button on his shirt. The forearm muscles quivered as his fingers worked at undoing each one down the front of his body. Soon the fabric pulled apart and Amy gazed at the athletic smooth form before her. Oliver let his shirt fall from his arms to the floor.
"If you'd like, you can lie back," he whispered and lifted his chin a bit to motion.
Amy nodded and did as he requested.
Oliver slowly knelt down at her feet. His hands moved to her ankles, below where the hem of her dress fell. As he touched her she shivered a bit. Amy looked up at the ceiling and felt as his fingers explored up her legs--crawled and dragged up her calves. Her silver dress pulled upwards with his hands.
He began to kiss the inside of her legs when he reached her knees. The fabric she wore was now worked up to her lap. If he looked forward he'd see from where it now felt all the heat of her body originated--hidden only by the light lace fabric of her white thong.
"Is this okay?" Oliver asked from between her legs.
Amy brought her gaze down from the ceiling and saw his brown eyes looking up at her. His wavy hair fell about his forehead and over his ears.
