The Meal

"I'm just going to change," you say.

I find the black dress you're in very sexy. "Do you have too? You look beautiful like that."

"I have something more comfortable, and I think you'll like it. Just wait a moment. Have a drink."

As you do into the next room I follow you with my eyes, admiring the shapely curve of your legs and the smooth line of your buttocks. You disappear, but leave the door half open. I can't see you from where I am at the table, but I can hear your footsteps crossing the wooden-tiled floor of the room. I pour some wine into a glass. As I sip the drink, I hear your footsteps stop, and a click - probably the sound of you opening a wardrobe door. I concentrate hard on the sounds coming from the room where you are changing. The creak of the wardrobe door, the rustling of material as you move the clothes on the rail. A clink as you lift the clothes hanger and more soft rustling as you remove your chosen garment from the wardrobe. I close my eyes, partly to focus more closely on the sounds of you changing, partly to picture in my mind the sight of you preparing to remove your clothes. A series of gentle clunks as you slip your shoes off and the soft padding of your bare feet on the floor as you move around the room. I imagine you in there, preparing yourself for the night to come. Suddenly the swift sound of the zip of your dress makes me start. You are undressing. I strain to hear the swish as you slide the thin black material of your dress down your body. I hear, or maybe I imagine that I hear, the sound as the dress falls to the floor around your feet. You must be naked now. I had seen in the kitchen that you were not wearing panties, and the swell of your breasts had looked so smooth that I was certain you had on no bra. More soft sounds as you step out of the ring made by your dress and bend to pick it up. The clinking of the hanger and more rustling as you place the dress in the wardrobe.

Should I go to the door? I know you are naked in there - perhaps you are waiting for me. But no - I think we both want this evening to go slowly.

I go back to listening intently. I am thoroughly aroused as I use the sounds I can hear to imagine you, naked, in the room next door. What will I hear next? The tight stretching of a pair of brief panties as you ease them up your legs? The soft sighs of a bra cupping your breasts followed by the light click of the fastener? No - I hear the sound of you lifting a clothes hanger and removing something from it. A skirt? A blouse? I crane my neck towards the door. One, two gentle footpads as you bend and step into a dress. A light rushing sounds as you ease the material up over your smooth thighs, belly, breasts and shoulders. A zip again, and you must have on a dress.

You step into shoes, and the sound of your footsteps is firm and clicking again. You'll be coming back soon, any moment. I feel a strong tugging sensation in my trousers and my heart beats faster as your footsteps come closer and louder and the door opens.

You stand framed by the door, stunning in a small, sheer white silk sun dress. I look into your eyes, and we both smile. You seem to be showing yourself to me, so unashamedly I let my gaze take in every aspect of your body. My eyes are drawn first to the pink swell of your chest revealed by the low neckline. I can follow the gentle shape of your breasts beneath the thin dress and can detect the delicate points of your nipples. I move my eyes down over your smooth belly to the firmer shape of the top of your thighs clearly outlined under the thin white of the dress. You stand with your weight on one leg, your thighs apart. I let my eyes roam over your groin, straining to see if I can make out the mound of your pussy beneath the material. The skirt ends halfway down your thighs, and I admire the full length of your legs down to your high heeled, matching white shoes. I'm breathing heavily, and lift my eyes to your face again. You smile, and turn right around so I see the roundness of your ass cheeks gently encased in delicate silk. I long to hold you and slip that dress from your shoulders. You are facing me again.

"I thought you'd like it," you said softly. "Will you pour me one before you spill yours?."

I had forgotten the half-full glass in my hand and just lifted my hand in time to save the wine. "Of course," I say. We sit at the table, drinking, talking, looking into each other's eyes, knowing, at least for my part, that the best part of the evening was still to come...