She finished her dinner, keeping an eye on the window at the end of her kitchen table. She liked having the furniture arranged this way because it gave her a great view of the block while eating, and she knew it would be perfect for later. It was not quite dark yet, it would probably be another half hour or so. She rinsed her bowl and put it in the dishwasher, wiped off the table and took a last look around to make sure things were neat.
He stabbed at the button in the elevator for his floor. He was pissed that he had to work overtime, but he had managed to get things wrapped up so he could get home before dark. Anyway, working overtime was a good excuse not to go out with the guys for a beer. For the last week or so getting home quickly had been a priority.
She opened the box from Victoria's Secret and admired the cream-colored silk camisole and the matching thong. Then went off to shower.
He hurriedly unlocked his apartment and threw his briefcase on the chair by the door. He looked out the window, still about 20 minutes of daylight left, enough to gobble down pizza from last night and go through the mail a bit.
She lathered herself with the luxurious french milled soap she received years ago as a gift, but had been keeping for a special occasion. She loved the feel of the hot water unwinding her muscles, and the lather and her fingers on her body. She caressed her full breasts for a little longer than her mother would have approved of and began to trim down under, keeping it neat and presentable.
He had thrown most of his mail in the garbage, put the cable bill on the desk and tossed his plate in the sink with the others. He peered across the street, an alley really, and noticed that she had moved the furniture in her kitchen. Strange for the kitchen table to be up against the window, but he remembered that he, too, had recently changed his furniture around as well, and his big leather chair also faced the window.
She stepped out of the shower and toweled off, feeling her smooth, silky skin. She released the clip that had held her long blonde hair out of the water and brushed her hair with long, luxurious strokes. She stepped into the thong and brought it up to her damp mound. Was she still wet from the shower or already wet for what awaited her? She didn't know, and frankly didn't care. She slipped the camisole over her head and looked at herself in the mirror. Her ample breasts filled out the camisole nicely and her nipples were far more than visible through the thin fabric. She turned to her closet and considered her shoes.
He untied his tie and hung it on the rack. Next was his white shirt, not cotton like his colleagues but a fine silk shirt, impeccably tailored. He hated dressing for work, but he had decided that if he had to wear the corporate "uniform" he was going to look damn good doing it. In the gym he had been paying particular attention to his chest and abs, and was pleased to see that both were improving. His chest was nicely defined and his abs were good and solid. Probably a month or so until the six pack started to appear, but it was as flat and as firm as anyone his age he knew. He hung his trousers in the closet and removed his socks, leaving only the black boxer briefs.
Her stiletto heels clicked across the hardwood floor of her living room as she headed toward the stereo. She chose the Motown playlist on her IPod and Heard it Through the Grapevine kicked in, and she felt her hips start to sway as she extinguished the lights in her living room and headed to the kitchen. It had been dark about 10 minutes, but with the drapes drawn it was tough to tell.
He turned off the lights in his apartment except for the floor lamp next to his chair. He settled in facing the open window, put his glass of ice water on the end table and waited with anticipation. He only had to wait a few minutes.
She walked into the kitchen and switched on the light to the ceiling fan directly over the table.
