He looked her up and down slowly, enjoying her body. She had taken time to look sexy and it showed, from the heels to the black dress and her carefully layered hair. She was looking through the window at the harbor, and her back was turned to him, so he took his time and looked at her beautifully shaped legs and her butt, and imagined her smooth back, a familiar stirring in the pit of his stomach warmed him up slowly.
It had been a great evening, a business dinner with Jessica, his beautiful - and very influential - client who had flown in to New York for a conference. She made time for him, and he planned everything down to the last detail. An early dinner, the Broadway show, and then the bar afterward for drinks. He had studiously kept away any business talk, which was not difficult - they'd both had long weeks and just wanted to untwine. There was enough time for business talk another day.
What was really difficult though was keeping his eyes from undressing her. She was not a model by any means, but she was very sexy, he thought. She had full lips, blonde hair, a sensual laugh. Her dress was cut low enough that he could see well defined breasts. And she had taken time to look good. She just smelled .. sensual.
When he went to the restroom at the restaurant, he had actually needed to go into a stall, and pulled out his cock - it was turgid, exuding pleasure and he needed to reposition it. He came to the table, flustered, and she seemed to look straight at his crotch again, starting up problems again.
He could picture her naked, awesome breasts, blonde pussy hair, a slight tummy ... and willed his mind to stop before he had a real problem.
Everything had gone well (except for his cock) until the bar. She had a really nice voice and laugh, and was up on all the latest news, and they bantered back and forth on politics for a while. Then disaster struck - they mock-fought over the bill and somehow he managed to spill her fries all over her dress, and splotches of dark red ketchup splattered her dress.
'Damn,' she said, looking at the dress, 'I cannot walk into the hotel lobby like this.'
'Jess, I am so sorry,' he said helplessly, 'I'll pay for the dry cleaning...'
'You doofus,' her laugh had no trace of rancor at all, 'Don't worry about it ... hey, your apartment is near here, right? I can do a better job cleaning it there, if you don't mind.'
Of course, he did not mind. He knew nothing would come out of it, but the thought of her in his apartment made him giddy.
And so they to his apartment that overlooked the East River. The lights were dimmed when they walked in, and he left them that way. She'd then looked over his hardwood floors, the Ethan Allen furniture, and his collection of string instruments quietly, looking really interested.
