She met him for a late dinner at their favourite restaurant. Both had been working long hours; it was good to unwind together. He had changed into casual clothes, jeans, Bluntstone boots and a casual dark blue shirt. She was still in her work clothes. The restaurant was still busy, but they found a quiet table in the back that afforded them some peace and quiet.
He ordered baked salmon for both of them, with a side-order of coleslaw and garlic potatoes and a glass of Australian Cabernet. The waiter looked at him when he mentioned the red wine and explained that red wine should not be paired with fish. She watched him as he patiently listened to the waiter's explanation and repeated the order. The waiter insisted on suggesting a white wine. He reached for the wine menu and stood up to face him. His voice was quiet and had little emotion when his eyes connected with the waiter to repeat his request for red wine. This time the waiter complied.
They spoke quietly during the meal, she about her day, he about his. The conversation flowed easily back and forth. There were pauses here and there, but they were very comfortable with silence.
He ordered chocolate ice cream for dessert and then asked to pay. Before the waiter arrived, she reached for a pen and wrote on her napkin 'Let me fuck you tonight'. He smiled and took her pen and wrote 'No. Tonight I will fuck YOU'. Neither of them made any attempts to hide the words when the waiter handed them the bill. They wanted him to see it.
On the way to the beach they stopped at the car to pick up a blanket. Hand in hand they walked along the water until they found a hollow in the sand. He spread the blanket, took her clothes off without asking and laid her down spread-eagled, making sure she was comfortable. He sat beside her and let his hands caress her breasts. Time became irrelevant.
His fingers wove light brushes on her flesh, avoiding her nipples and aureolae. They drifted from the underside of her breasts to the curves above and from there to the sides and back. From there they meandered carelessly to her right and left breast, teasing her with his nails. He watched her carefully and adjusted his touch to her body and mind.
With no rush his fingers reached her nipples, teasing them with the palm of his hand and playfully placing them between thumb and index finger to pull them and twist them gently.
"Want you, light me up, burn inside me," she whispered.
"You'll have me, soon, I promise," he replied. "Tonight is only about you and searing our lust into your soul."
He leaned over to kiss her. The kiss became a saga of intimacy and pleasure. Her lips were silk, her tongue was velvet. Their breathing patterns quickly aligned and they inhaled and exhaled together, nothing interrupting their magic. His tongue explored her freely, teasing the ridges of her teeth and the soft folds inside her mouth. When she resorted to urgency, he steadied her need gently.
The kiss transcended into a caress of her hips and waist stroking her more softly than butterfly wings. Under his touch she drifted off into the space between pleasure and sleep, and he kept her there, watching her eyes close and her breath steady. The stars cast soft shadows over her perfect olive skin. He traced their shapes and edges, careful not to wake her, never not touching her, but keeping his fingers soft and tender so she could stay in her reverie. The crescent moon moved across the horizon. Once in a while he heard distant voices and the caws of seagulls.
An hour later his hand moved further down and tenderly parted her thighs. She woke with a gasp of pleasure, eyes smiling at him.
"Oh, there you are."
He smiled and kissed her. "It's been three hours, Stefi, maybe another one and a half 'til sunrise."
His fingers ascended between her thighs. There was still a lot of dampness even though she had slept. He opened her languidly, folding her lips apart, brushing whimsically along their inside without entering. She let out a short sigh, longing for more. His index finger entered deeper, massaging some of her cream into the adjacent skin. He was so familiar with them, their creases, their texture and their shape, but he never tired of caressing them.