Part 1
The plan was to go for wings and maybe a drink after work. I got home stepped out of my work clothes, and still had enough time for a quick shower. I was already thinking about what I was going to wear while the smell of coconut relaxed the day's stress away. I always underestimate how many bubbles my loofah can create. While the scented soapy white flow continued down my body I decided on my classic, but cute go to outfit that never failed in a rush. For better or worse my OCD with color made getting dressed quicker sometimes. By the time the last of the bubbles were swirling the drain I'd landed on a black lace thong, black lace plunge bra, light blue skinny jeans, black V-neck t-shirt, silver jewelry, black leather jacket and done.
He was running behind so I drove to his house so we could drive over together. I stepped in to wait, I'd never been inside before. Before he put on his shoes and jacket he offered a tour of his townhouse and I accepted. I'm always curious to see if my idea of someone's house lines up with reality. We finished off the main floor, I was impressed how clean the kitchen was and the living room was moderately decorated. We went to the basement next, no surprise it was a bit of a man cave - flat screen, gaming and gym equipment. We made our all the way upstairs, just continuing to poke my head in the rooms after all we had somewhere to be. We were in the hall outside of the master bedroom. Now this is where the details get a little sketchy as to how we ended up in what is to follow. I consider myself to be pretty funny, bit of a smart ass too, who enjoys a challenge of wit and words. From what I remember it started with a very simple but loaded question, "Want to come in my room?" and that's how it happened. I'm sure my unwillingness to lose face to his emphasis on the word "come" and smug grin, is what led to this game of sexy chicken. But here we were, face to face in his hallway outside his bedroom door.
Over the last few years we'd met up dozens of times before; for coffee, lunch, walks even the gym. We were acquaintances who became friends, who occasionally flirt with the idea of taking it to the next level. The mutual attraction was obvious and understood but remained unexplored. There was no one reason why we hadn't, just one huge concern; bells can't be un-rung, and actions have consequences. No doubt friends can become lovers but often only one of those relationships survives. This is strictly an anecdotal opinion of mine, but inevitably someone's feelings change and alter the relationship.
Conversely, some opportunities and moments only happen once, and regrets can haunt.
And now that moment was here and it was time to decide what to make of it.
Honestly I've been anticipating this encounter for some time; it was inevitable. I've touched and played with myself while imagining how we would cross that line. And if I were Caucasian you would have seen me blushing on the outside, matching how hot and flush it always made me feel on the inside. I've come up with so many answers to how he would look over top of me, naked. How he would smell before our scents comingled. How his hands would feel gliding along my skin. How his almost shaved bald head would feel in between my legs. I've wondered if his thick fingers would be gently playing with my clit, and how far in they could reach.
And now the moment was here. No excuses to leave, no amount of witty remarks and avoidance was going to work now and I'm not sure I would want to leave.
