We have been emailing for a few days now. You compliment me on every picture I send you. The anticipation is at its peak. I am beyond ready to finally meet you.
I arrive at the quaint little coffee shop on the busy college street, order my hot, soothing drink, and sit at an empty table. My phone pings with an incoming text: I might be a few minutes late.
I sip occasionally, waiting for you to walk through the door. My thoughts intrude my focus. Will he look like his picture? Will he like what he sees? Will he stay true to what he has been saying in his emails? Will it dawn on him that I am 10 years older? Will it matter?
I look up. My thoughts disappear immediately. You have arrived. A long, low breath escapes your lips as you sit down across from me, your eyes never leaving mine. I hold my coffee, my finger tapping against it as you get situated.
"Hi," I say.
"Nice to finally meet you."
"You as well."
Your pupils are heavily dilated. You are obviously taken aback by my appearance. I study you closely.
"Well, am I true to my pictures?" I ask.
"Better. Much better."
I can feel my cheeks flush. I am flattered by this young, supple 18-year-old. His hands tremble a bit on the table. His breath is scattered. He is nervous.
"You aren't so bad yourself. Thanks for meeting me."
"Oh no, thank you for wanting to meet. You look amazing."
"Thanks. I work with what I've got I suppose."
Awkward silence hovers over us for a few moments. All we do is stare. I have no idea what is going through your head. My head swims with images of you in my van, naked, struggling to hold back an orgasm.
My daydream is cut short as you start to speak. "I can't believe how sexy you are!"
I giggle under my breath. "Quite the charmer, aren't you?" You nod. "You know that isn't necessary with this type of arrangement, right?"
"Sorry.. I just hope this is all really happening."
"Oh, I assure you it is."
We engage in light conversation for a while. You talk of your college goals and your hobbies. I talk of my past, and what I expect from our meeting. I lean over and your eyes drop to my cleavage. You sure aren't making a secret of it. It's almost as if it's out of your control. I love it.
Maybe 10 or 15 minutes pass. I can tell you are waiting for me to make the next move. You seem a tad afraid.
"Let's go back to the van and... talk."
Your eyes widen, and you hop out of your chair immediately, reaching out your hand to me. Your breathing quickens a bit. I smile devilishly at you. So eager.
I walk a few steps ahead of you. I can feel your eyes on my ass. I look back and you have a new confidence about you. You want me. I am reeling.
"Holy shit, it's freezing out here!"
"Do you want my jacket, Jen?"
"Oh no no, you don't have to do that. This is not a date." Such a sweet boy. You then wrap your arms around me. You are so warm. I giggle as you obviously flex your muscles, trying to impress me. It reminds me of how young and inexperienced you are with women.