As she pushed open the door to the bar, her heart was racing. She knew he’d be there, waiting for her. It’d been months since they’d last seen one another and she marveled at the effect he always had on her, even before she’d laid eyes on him. Would he still be so devastatingly sexy? Of course he would. If anything, he got better with age.
There he was. Tucked into a quiet booth in the corner, his head was down as he studied the book in his hands. She took the opportunity to study him as she tried to calm herself down. No good appearing at the table all flustered – not a good look. His long fingers held the book gracefully, and she remembered how they felt caressing her skin. His long hair fell into his face, and she found herself thinking how it felt tickling her thighs when he went down on her…
She shook herself. Now, this would never do! She was meant to be calming herself down, so as to appear beside him cool and composed. At this rate she’d be stripping off and throwing herself at him. Smoothing down her already perfectly smooth hair and tugging down her jacket, she sauntered over to him.
He was so engrossed in his book that he didn’t notice her until she was sliding in opposite him in the booth. Looking up, surprised, he broke into a huge grin when he realised it was her.
“Well, don’t you just look good enough to eat.” He said, surveying her intently, still grinning.
She felt the colour rising to her cheeks as she caught on to the double entendre. She was never sure if he said those things to intentionally embarrass her, or whether it was just an unfortunate turn of phrase.
Checking herself, she responded, “You look well.”
He nodded, standing, and said “What would you like to drink?”
Ever the gentleman, she thought. After telling him what she wanted, she watched him walk to the bar, checking out his arse. Well, he was so blessed with good features that she just had to have a look! And, she had to admit, he did look good. He knew how to dress; pale jeans which encased his backside, showing it off to perfection, coupled with a plain white t-shirt which enhanced his naturally tanned skin and gave her a glimpse of the sexy tattoos adorning his arms. Well-built arms which were capable of pinning her down to a bed without much effort.
Oh dear, she was off again. This time, she didn’t stop her thoughts from wandering. There wasn’t much point. She knew where this evening would end up – the same place it ended up every time they saw one another. In bed. It was just the preamble that varied each time. Different bar, different town, different county. It didn’t matter. All she knew for sure was that he’d have a swish hotel room booked somewhere nearby and when they’d both tired of the pretense, they’d head there together.
He came back, carrying two drinks and placed them down on the edge of the table, sliding hers towards her as he sat down. Then they began to chat, idly and about every day things at first. Then the talk turned more intimate. He’d asked if she was seeing anyone – which she wasn’t – and if she’d been seeing anyone since the last time they met – which she hadn’t.
“So I’m the last man that fucked you then?”
She looked around, startled, wondering if anyone had heard him and his blunt question. He never failed to surprise her. She felt her pussy moistening as she thought of her response. Words failed her. She nodded.
“Well, well,” he uttered, lowering his voice this time, “Won’t that pussy of yours be tight, wet and begging for my cock by the time I get you naked? I can hardly wait.”
Again, she was speechless. She hated that about herself. Normally she was bright and articulate. But put her in front of him when he was talking dirty, deliberately trying to turn her on, and all she could do was blush and shrug. He, however, enjoyed it.
“Are you getting wet now?”
His foot found hers under the table, and he manoeuvred his legs so he had one either side of her left calf and began rubbing and squeezing it with his. Slowly, maddeningly. He knew she wanted him to touch her, but higher, more intimately, with his long fingered hands bringing her to an earth-shattering climax.
“Do you want me, sweetheart?”
She took a long swig from her drink, hoping the considerable alcohol content would give her the confidence she needed to play him at his own game. She swallowed, and brought the glass to her lips once more. She drained the glass quickly, and wriggled her legs so she was out of his grasp.
“Yes,” she retorted, the sudden alcoholic buzz helping her find her voice, “I do. Now if you don’t object, let’s stop pissing around shall we, and go back to your hotel. I have something I’d like you to attend to.”
Somewhat agog, he grabbed his own glass and took a couple of mouthfuls, then stood.
“As the lady wishes,” he replied, “Wow, I like it when you’re a bit forceful. I could get used to this.”
And with that, they left the bar and hailed a taxi back to his hotel…