The phone rings at 11:03pm. I buzz him in.
You and I look at each other, unsure of how to feel or what to expect. A minute passes. 11:05pm. I open the door to find him standing there. He smiles and brushes past me, making his way to the couch, to you. “Eme”, he says. “We finally meet.”. I disappear into the kitchen and pour us some drinks. You flirt with him. You’re nervous, but I can tell by your voice that you’re very very hungry.
He’s perfect – 6’, 195lbs - a nicely chiseled body; late 30’s. He looks every inch the guy that you’ve fantasized about. He’s clean-cut, Spanish – very dark, masculine, wearing tan khakis and a white polo shirt. There’s an athletic grace to his movements.
He reaches out to shake my hand, giving me enough of a squeeze to make me grimace. He tells us that he just left his co-workers at the bar. We sit around and drink and talk for a while, our new friend inching closer and closer to you with each sip.
He turns to you.. “You are absolutely beautiful”, he says He gets up and walks over to you. He sits down beside you, caressing your shoulders. He asks you to stand. He moves behind you and draws you to him.
He kisses your neck, letting you feel the warmth of his breath. You look off into some distant, inner dreamscape. He puts his lips to your ear and whispers. You rest your head against his shoulder. You break into a bright smile at something he says.
I’m invisible to the two of you. He’s kissing your body, licking from your neck up to your ear, your head tilted back, showing your pleasure.
