After deleting me off her socials, I was surprised that she'd noticed I was in town. I was even more surprised she'd reached out - it had been almost ten years since we dated, and not much shorter than that since we'd talked.
First it had been coffee, which had migrated into plans for drinks, then:
*Steph*: Hey, all the bars around here are closing super early - wanna just come over and have some wine here?
*Me*: Yeah, sure. Send me your address, I'll be by in a few.
She was still in the same place, which shocked me - she'd always wanted the white picket fence and the 2.5 kids (one of many, many reasons we never worked out), so I was surprised she was still in the same place she'd lived when she was in nursing school.
Steph answered the door in a high necked black sweater and a skirt that ended mid thigh, with long black socks that looked cozy and warm - although the cynical part of me immediately clued into the fact that she knew how I felt about thigh-highs. This was deliberate.
I found myself starting to get angry; this time, at least, I shook it off.
"You gonna say hi, or just stare at my legs like a big weirdo," she asked, a smug grin on her face. In my defense, she had as stunning a figure as ever - she might have been short and slim, but her curves belonged on the cover of a magazine, and not one you'd leave on the living room table.
I dragged my eyes up to hers, not even trying to hide the lust. Apprehension warred with an expression on her face I've become more and more familiar with as I age - the look of "fuck yeah. I've still got it."
"You made your choices," I half-growled, waving a hand at her outfit. The smirk came back, and she shrugged, turning to go up the stairs that led into her one bedroom loft.
I followed her, and we were both silent - a younger me would think the silence awkward, but now it just felt like pure tension.
"Wine?" Her question finally broke free, and she couldn't conceal the huskiness in her voice. She cleared her throat quickly, avoiding my eyes as it was my turn to grin. I grunted an affirmative, and she set to pouring.
"Where's Chester?" I asked, after her cat. "He's staying with my parents for now." She responded, busying herself with the bottle. I was disappointed - when we'd broken up, I missed the cat as much as anything else, despite my allergy.
"So...can we address the elephant in the room?" I asked, sidling up to her as she stood at the kitchen counter. She finished pouring my glass and pushed it over to me, arching an eyebrow. "Hmm?"
I rolled my eyes. "Alright, fine. We haven't talked in pretty much a decade, and all of the sudden you reach out while I'm in town. What's your angle?" I finished my question with a sip of my wine.
She kept her eyebrow arched and held my gaze for a moment before answering. "Can't I just want to catch up?"
I stepped away from her, letting my eyes travel lazily over her deliberately provocative outfit. I let a bit of growl enter my voice before I asked, "Is that what you want?"
It's worth noting that Steph always fancied herself as quick-witted - and usually, she was. If it wasn't a clever bon mot, she could at least be counted on to riposte with sarcasm. So when she didn't respond, and in fact blushed slightly, I was a little taken aback - but my surprise was quickly replaced with hunger.
