My very helpful editor was bgmisfun. All characters are over eighteen as is clear in the story.
My eyes were glued to the computer screen anxiously. The email was open, my fingers ready to reply, but the awkwardness would not let me begin.
"Dear Kevin", no...That was too close, I should maintain my distance even through the coldness of the internet.
"Hello Kevin (that was better), I got your email and of course we should meet while you are in Berlin..." I can pick you up from the airport and accompany you to your hotel and maybe have hot sex there before going out for a beer. God, I needed to keep this very short if I wanted to sound casual.
"...I'll meet you for a beer near your hotel tomorrow night. See you then. Sara."
Perfect. That was casual, just me doing my duty as expected. I had been living in Berlin for a couple of years now, studying and working a part time job at a supermarket. I hadn't thought about Kevin for ages, but as usual that did not stop the heat from enveloping my body as his image came into my mind now.
Kevin was a friend of my father's and I had spent some summers in family holidays with him and his family when I was a teenager. I don't remember the first time I saw him.
When I was fourteen, I was very introverted and did not care much for new people. I still looked very young, and I saw no reason he should pay any attention to me. Yet somehow he caught my attention, with his jokes and interesting conversation. He had a great smile and clever eyes, which drew me in at every occasion.
Every year our families would travel together, in Italy, Greece, Austria, and the Mediterranean Islands. Every year I would fantasise about him. I would spend an entire year without seeing him, but the moment he appeared and greeted me with two kisses I would melt, my heart beating faster.
But I grew up, and stopped taking part in these family holidays. Stopped seeing him completely. Different countries, different worlds, different lives. And here he was now. I had not seen him in six years. I was older, and so was he. But my mind was the same apparently. Just thinking about him made me want to touch myself.
This was so stupid and pointless. As if he felt the same! As if an older man with a wife and kids would ever have noticed me. I would just do my duty, go have a drink and make small talk and that would be it. He could tell my father how hospitable I was and my father would approve. I just had to get through one probably boring night with Kevin and I would go back to my normal life.
***
Ok, maybe it would be a bit more difficult than that. I had a hard time deciding what to wear to meet him. I tried a couple of dresses, but didn't want to look too well dressed. How did I want him to see me? I ended up choosing one of my favourite black dresses, not too revealing, but I liked how its hem danced against my knees when I moved. I felt safe and still pretty wearing it.
Now I waited in the hotel lobby, my imagination spinning out of control. Everything around me seemed to make me hot. A jazz song playing somewhere in the background, the soft lobby lights, every aspect of the environment conspiring to make me dizzy.
I always had a hard time controlling my thoughts, especially my dirty thoughts. I saw a million scenarios where we ended up fucking, his eyes filled with desire, his big hands touching me everywhere. Stop! Just small talk. He doesn't want anything. Remember that and everything will be fine.
And there he was. A charming smile on his face, deep brown eyes fixed on me. There were many new wrinkles around them. His hair was also greyer than I remembered, but he still towered over me. I couldn't believe looking at him that he was already over fifty. He looked fitter too.
"Hello, Sara. It's so nice to see you after all this time." He put a hand on my shoulder and kissed my cheeks. I hoped he didn't notice how hot they were. "Hello! Nice to see you too. How are Monica and the girls?" Why wasn't he taking the hand from my shoulder? He just left it there, squeezing a bit. It felt like an hour went by. I kept making small talk, asking about his family and he answered, but his hand didn't leave my shoulder. I was burning inside, imagining where else those strong fingers could be placed. I suddenly wished he would just go away and stop getting me so hot. That thought made me strong enough to suggest we go look for a bar, and finally he let go.
The rest of the night went by quickly, talking and drinking beer. I remembered how funny he was, talking about his country, but also interested in me and my life. We were sitting across from each other and his leg would occasionally bump against mine. Every little touch made me aware of how hot I still was. I wanted desperately to get home and have some time to take care of the heat building between my legs. But it seemed like he wanted to have another beer, and another, and a bit more conversation.
