She wasn't kidding--she practically lived next door to the pub. It was a decent-looking pre-war building, in which she had the classic young-professional-in-the-city living arrangement; three people sharing a rather modest-sized two-bedroom apartment. It had a cozy feel--nice, but not matching, furniture (no doubt hand-me-downs from the roommates' parents), a few framed theatre posters, and the like.
I knew that room, I'd lived that very same life (though it was close to 30 years ago)...
Leaving our shoes at the door, we tossed our coats on a chair. Motioning to a large sofa, Simone said,
"Make yourself comfortable."
"Thanks."
"What would you like?" she asked, crossing to a shelf that contained an odd collection of different liquors. "Most of this stuff is my roommates's, except the tequila. I don't really drink much, y'know [I already knew this], but on special occasions I'll have a shot, or maybe a margarita."
"Is this a special occasion?" I asked. (I immediately regretted the question--it sounded like a truly sleazy come-on; thankfully, however, Simone didn't seem to notice.)
"Yeah--I think it's the first time I've actually ever gotten to have an actual personal conversation with you!"
"OK, so two shots of tequila, then."
We talked jobs, and apartments, and normal life stuff for an hour or so, then each had another shot. Half an hour later, I announced that I had to get going. As I stood up and headed toward the chair where our coats lay crumpled, I heard Simone say, brightly,
"Sorry it got so late--I must have talked your ear off!" Then she added, very quietly, "You can stay here if you want."
"Is that a good idea?"
"My roommates are away for the weekend."
I turned to find Simone standing right next to me. Looking directly into her wide, dark eyes, I asked, in a low voice,
"May I kiss you?"
"OK."
Standing on tiptoes, she wrapped her arms around my neck, and we kissed, gently at first, then more passionately. Suddenly, she was yanking at my shirt and trying to unbutton it. As I helped her remove it, she reached for my belt, managing to undo it, and the top button of my pants, before I grabbed her hands and said,
"Whoa, slow down."
"What did I-- Is something wrong?"
"No, you're good. Can I have a turn?"
Blushing, she nodded.
Gently turning her around, I wrapped my arms around her, and kissed her neck, swaying gently, and running my hands up and down her body (resisting the temptation to make a predictable, clumsy grab at her breasts). As I paused for a moment, Simone looked back at me, wordlessly asking me to unzip her. I obliged. She shimmied a bit and the tight cocktail dress slithered to the floor.
I had long admired Simone's little hourglass figure, and--especially when it was perfectly defined by the high-waisted, wide leg jeans she favored--positively worshipped her butt. Now, however, covered only by sheer pink hipster panties, it was simply sublime. I mused that it was almost a shame to uncover it.