Colleen. Fair skinned and red haired. Long dark hair cut short, but still think and a handful. Her eyes were deep and rich, hiding a secret behind them. Her body? Oh, she had curves. Held in a way that was both and sexy, a body that you could enjoy and explore, a body that just oozed sensuality for me.
I met her through a posting one of us had put up. I'm not sure who answered whom at this point, but it was enough that we found such similarity between us. Both in our likes and dislikes, as well as our attitudes and level of open mindedness, as well as our mutual desire for a power exchange -- fortunately from opposite sides of the same coin. The subtext that flowed through our email breathed of sensual pursuits and erotic adventures, of her enjoying a strong hand and a dominating spirit -- something that caused the pulse to beat a bit harder and the imagination to wander.
We finally agreeing to meet at an upscale corner bar -- a place in New York's Meat Packing district, for upscale cocktails and whispered conversations. Dark lights and low tables that induced strangers into illicit glances and covert subtleties.
We met and chatted, having only known each other's typing, well aside from a brief conversation over the phone that is. We quickly settled into some initial conversation, keeping it light until we both overcame the social mores that a cocktail is great for. By our second cocktail, our conversation floated toward the sensual side. At first a joke about spanking, then a comment about tasting which slid into a subtle touch, some glances. A finger on each others knees, thighs, shoulders and faces. It was enough. We kissed in public, before I rose for the restroom. I returned, but rather than to my bar seat, I pressed up behind her, letting my cock just touch the cleft between her cheeks, pressing my hardness into her ass. I could feel her curve her back, raising her rear up to me, as if a cat in heat, readying herself for penetration. Her skirt stretched around her rump, outlining her firm flesh perfectly. My own cock feeling the valley formed in the fabric.
We stood like that until the bill came, and then that was it for the evening. Just enough to know what we wanted and to hope for more. Something to solidify what we imagined was there, and to see where it could all go.
Our next meeting was set for Sunday. A private brunch; something fun and interesting and enabling us to take things to the next level if we wished. Something that would allow her to sit back and enjoy, a chance to speak more honestly than we could in public, but also to be led to her own pleasures. It was agreed that I would show up with our brunch. So I spent Saturday shopping -- for farm fresh eggs for poaching, lox and fresh bread. I also picked up some champagne and orange juice for mimosas, as well as fresh fruit -- strawberries, blueberries, melon, a banana and ripe mangos. I also added some honey into the bag for my own tastes, as well as a toy I thought might come to use. What can I say, but some delights for us to snack on and enjoy.
On Sunday, I arrived at her door and knocked gently. It swung open to reveal her in a knee length skirt and blouse. I smiled. Her blouse was just revealing, nothing too much, but enough to give a hint of what lay beneath. She gave me a light peck at the door and invited me in.
Her apartment was small but nice. What we'd call Brooklyn Compaction -- small, but well done. She asked what I had brought, but instead I simply went to the kitchen to pour us both a mimosa and set out some food. A tray of samples as it were - fruit that was light and easy, along with some scones. We started to talk, to pick up from where we had left off. We sipped our mimosas too quickly and got a bit of a head going. Smirks and smiles, slipping with flirtations, kept us going until the first bottle was finished. And when it was, I opened the second, the two of us together pouring yet another glass.
