Desire... a word so ingrained in his head since the first time that he saw her when she walked into the cafe with long, teased, brown hair. Her quiet, cold, calmness shouted to all that no one could break through the surface of her ocean. Ice was all that she was. She had a masterful way of making everyone in the room look her way, some tried to sneak peeks, others; men and women, openly stared as if she was the only woman in the world. He couldn't believe that she chose to sit at his table.
"Is anyone sitting here?" she whimpered (or he imagined it), a voice much softer than her persona, pushing the hair out of her eye. He didn't answer, didn't need to. She was already sliding her tight, jeaned ass into the seat next to him. As she grabbed his Coke and sucked on the straw pulling the fluid from its container he wondered what this was all about. He sat up straighter, pushed out his chest trying to impress but she could see right through him...knowing.
When they dated he found himself getting closer to her, hugging her good night and then quickly stepping away before she felt his hard-on. She would peck him on the lips and say "Just friends...right?" with a sly smile widening on her face.
He could feel himself blush as her eyes drove him crazy, the brown orbs that encompassed him. There was a way that she would squint when she was reading a menu or thinking really hard, with that hair over her eye. She would catch him staring at her and would interrupt him with an uneasy joke or an offhand comment. She must have known what he was thinking. There was no hiding the desire in his eyes.
"I'll see you tomorrow ok? Let's go for a drink." She offered... knowing.
'Wasn't it supposed to be just friends?' he thought as she reached under the table and put her hand on his thigh. He knew that this was going to be awkward. There's no denying that he was hard, rock hard as she slowly slid her hand up until it reached his stone like crotch.
She looked away with a smirk on her pretty face, pretending to watch the crowd. Her hand movements were almost imperceptible above the table just twitches of her forearm. Underneath the table, though she was fumbling for the tab on his zipper, sending jolts of fire up to his brain.
The cool air exciting his pubis as she struggled to tug out the flesh, a wrinkle of her chin was the only crack in her stone faΓ§ade.
She snuck sideways glances at him as he struggled to stay composed. He began to look longingly at her cleavage so close to him her well rounded breasts pushing against the ripped T-shirt exposing just enough goose-pimpled flesh. Her hard nipples protruding against the fabric with no sign of a bra.