The Bad Day

Author's disclaimer: This is all mine, please do not copy without permission.

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That walk was one of the longest I have ever experienced, before or after. He had tucked me up against his side again as soon as we moved from our private corner by the Waitrose and began moving relentlessly in the direction that I had pointed.

It was at about this time that it really began hitting me that this was really happening. I hadn't actually gone around the bend and was hallucinating. I was actually going to get Mr. Perfect. Hell, I didn't even know his name yet. Shouldn't you ask the man you were about to have the opportunity to ravish what his name was?

Somehow, it didn't quite seem appropriate to ask. Silly sounding, isn't it? But somehow walking down the blustery street in the pouring rain with the sexiest man I had ever seen with nothing but sex on the brain, the mood just wouldn't let me say anything. All I could manage was tugging him in the right direction on the right streets to reach where I lived. I had never found a man that scrambled my mind enough to actually not be able to form a coherent sentence. Maybe this wasn't good idea that I thought it was, I mean, really, this could be dangerous, being with a man that dazed me enough to not be able to think. If I was like this now, what would I be like afterwards? Completely mindless?

As this was running though my mind, that little voice, you know, the one that always gets you in trouble chimed in and reminded me that this was Mr. Perfect. I gave in without a fight. I actually think it was disappointed in me.

The kiss from before had left my entire body extremely sensitive to the littlest stimulation and our every movement together simply made it worse. Even in the cold and the wet, I was aware of his arm over my shoulders, his thigh pressed against mine, and somehow I just knew he was watching me. How, I'm not sure. How do you walk down a street pressed as tightly together as we were, watch that other person, not pay attention to where you are going, and still manage to be the one leading and keeping the pair moving? He did.

My life never works like this. Things don't work out for me. I kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for him to stop me and tell me that he had suddenly remembered another appointment that he just has to go to, that he had had changed his mind, that he had to go home and wash his hair. But he didn't, he kept us going relentlessly down the streets, through the square and to the front door of my apartment building.

My flat is in a fairly typical London building in Kensington, a grayish whitish five story building that blends in with everything around it. I thank the heavens that for once I don't have to be ashamed of the place I'm taking someone home to, (even if it isn't technically really my place.)

I had to fumble through my gigantic bag to find my key. This is usually a task in and of itself that involves me dropping everything else, sticking my head in the bag and rooting around for a while. Sometimes I get lucky and can simply stick my hand in and fumble around a bit like that and then find it by touch alone. This is on a good day, when it's not raining, I'm not in a hurry, and I don't have an extremely gorgeous guy on my arm that I just need to get upstairs to make my dreams come true. Of course I had to embarrass myself with my bag and my key. It felt like forever to find it and then get it in the lock to turn. Of course he was staring at me and I was staring at him and my belly had gone beyond feeling simply warm to doing complete flip-flops, I'm sure that that made everything ten times worse.....but really.....can you blame me?

The lobby was empty for once. We didn't have internet in the building, but had found that we could go pirate it in the lobby from other people. Usually the lobby is packed. I can't imagine what it would have been like to have walked in when the usual ten people were sitting there. I would never have lived it down. In hindsight I have to wonder what he would have done with all the catcalls.

And then we were finally in the elevator, ensured privacy at last. The doors had barley closed when he had me up against the wall again. (Personally I was shocked that not only could we fit in the tiny Elevator Of Death, as I like to call it together, but also that for once it was working). We would never have made it if we would have had to walk up the five flights of narrow staircase that it takes to get to my apartment, we would have probably made it to the third floor and he would have had me face down on the stairs, my pants around my ankles, with his hopefully thick cock pumping in and out from between my thighs as I screamed loud enough for the neighbors to all think the building was on fire....hmmmm, maybe not such a bad idea anyway......

But his wiry body had me dangling from several inches off the floor and his mouth, oh that delicious mouth of his was on mine again and my random thoughts about the lobby and the elevator disappeared from my mind as if they had never been.

That sweet caramelly taste had invaded my brain, my breasts ached where they were crushed against his chest and his hands were underneath my bottom at this point holding me up. I had never had such a heady moment in my entire life. I was still aware of the mustard stain and I couldn't believe that he was able to be so up close and personal as it was with the way I looked and hopefully didn't smell, but I decided at this point that if it didn't bother him than it wasn't going to bother me. I just hoped I hadn't found the man of my dreams who also happened to be a mad man.

As his lips continued to eat at my mouth I became aware of him making deep growling noises low in his throat. This only served to turn me on even more than I already was. It was almost as if he was devouring me all of me. I had never felt such a sensation of being consumed by any other lover I had ever had.

He began tugging at my jumper, pulling it up and pulling at my shirt underneath. He had to work his way through the shirt I had under that as well and I was so busy kissing him back and letting my hands glide through all that glorious hair that I really couldn't help him. His hands finally reached my flesh and every sensation that I was already feeling became intensified even more, almost as if electricity was running through my body. His hand curved over my breast and began to knead gently, pressing my nipple directly into the palm of his hand.

It took both of us a minute to realize that we had reached my floor and that the door was open.

By some miracle, I still had my keys clutched in my hand against his back. He kept me dangling from the ground, prompting me to wrap my legs around his waist and he walked with me out of the elevator. I pulled back from his kisses long enough to get him to my door and we again somehow managed to get through my door.

The door clicked shut and we were on the floor so fast my head was spinning (even more than it already had been). I didn't even really have the sensation of being lowered, just of suddenly being there with him over me and grinding his erection against the crux of my thighs.

Im sure I must have been a sight. I have long, really thick and curly blonde hair that had long since fallen out of the chignon that I had had it messily tied up in. My glasses I had tossed when we walked in the door. I only really need them to read. And here I was sprawled across my entrance hallway, completely unbound looking, with a stranger pulled over me. Hell, I still didn't know his name. I had to give myself another reality check, this was really happening.

He himself was looking much less pulled together than he had been. I liked him even better for it. I can't stand those people who never looked disheveled no matter what happens. I pulled at his jacket, enjoyed the rich suede under my hands even as I rushed to get it off him.

I got through his top layers completely. I didn't really give him time to do anything else but help me, and when he was uncovered.....God, if there is a God, what a sight that was. He was long and lean, with a trail of hair lightly dusting his abs, leading to the button on his trousers. He was braced over me and seemed to appreciate the fact that I was nearly drooling over his abs.

He suddenly began moving again, and this time it was my shirts that began coming off, and then I was sprawled under him in my green bra with my breasts spilling out of the cups in a way that they do when I'm not careful about arranging myself just right. He didn't stop there.

He reached back and tugged my trainers and socks off with deft skill that I would admire much later. My pants and underwear came next. My legs were still spread wide around his own thighs and it took a bit of maneuvering. Somehow this only managed to make me even wetter than before, so that by the time he got it all off me I'm sure I had drops of my own lubrication caught in my pubic hair. He took a look at me lying wide before him in nothing by my bra and my hair and groaned.

With one finger he lightly traced through my nether curls and my lips all the way to my ass. A line of fire ignited in my body and I jerked up toward him, trying to maintain contact with those talented fingers. His hands, those wonderfully strong hands, parted my thighs wider and he leaned down, beginning to lick me where his finger had stopped, retracing its way back to the beginning and then he was circling my clit, making me cry out in agony before pressing his mouth fully against me, making my back arch off the floor.

He went slowly, seeming to savor every taste he had of me, slowly forcing his tongue deep inside of me and showing me that my earlier fantasy was more than correct by pushing his nose into me and against my clit every time he pressed deeper into me.

At this point he had his hands clamped on my sides to keep me in place. I couldn't stay still with all of this going on and Im sure that the noises I was making weren't sexy at all. On later introspection I was sure I had sounded like a wet cat in heat. And that heat, you know that heat that begins to build and build when you start to reach that point, that final climactic point where the world explodes in front of your eyes and you don't know anything but what is happening to your body and whoever with.

Suddenly he pressed a finger lightly against my ass and pressed it a little way inside, crooking it just slightly. It was enough to send me completely over the edge, screaming. With his mouth deep in my cunt and his finger in my ass I felt as if the world had completely ended.

It took me a few moments after the spasms in my belly stopped and my inner muscles had quit clamping together to realize that he had pulled back and was watching me. My eyes, which had rolled into the back of my head began to refocus on him. He was braced with his arms standing in stark contrast to the walls behind him. It was if all of his muscles were straining against a great pressure and he had a slightly wild look in his eyes above his glistening chin.

Another involuntary groan pulled itself out of me and another afterwave pulsed through me. One of his hands came up again and that finger, the same finger that had started my bliss traced from my collar bone, between my breasts, over my belly, right back down to my apex. Goosebumps broke out over my body and I couldn't help but sighing. He stared for another second and then very deliberately caught my eye as he reached for his own pants.

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A/N: Just thought that I would note that yes, I am aware of the fact that midwesterners don't say "jumper" or "spectacles", being a midwesterner myself. But I was in London when I was writing this and I wanted to convey that my character had been there long enough to start picking these small bits of slang up. Thanks for the reviews though, I live for them!