She had on too much perfume.
She didn't mean to put on so much, but she knew he loved the way it smelled so she doused herself in it. It was a blend of oils she'd made up and called "Come Hither." She only wore it when she was definitively on the prowl. This combination could and had had detrimental affects when worn carelessly. A lover once told her it smelled like the best sex he ever had. Tonight, she applied it to all the places she wanted him to kiss.
Nape of her neck
Valley between her busom
Backs of her knees
Small of her back
The meeting of her thighs
It had been so long since she'd last....seen him and he was only in town for the night. She hadn't even planned on going out that night, but since she was out, she wanted to make sure he knew shewas there before he could even see me. She wanted to linger in the air.
Would he look the same?
She made her rounds 'round the table, greeting and air kissing until she got to him. He stood, opened his arms then slid them around my waist under her open jacket and pulled her to him so effortlessly. She had fully meant to keep her distance in the embrace, but instead, feeling those arms around that waist....she was back in the familiar place both of them fought so hard so often to forget. She nestled into that familiar faraway place, her head resting in the valley of his neck and just inhaled him, as she was sure he was inhaling her. He bowed his head and ran his finger from her collarbone to her cheek and back again. She craned her neck eagerly anticipating the bites he used to plant where his thumb now danced. He planted a soft kiss an inch or two lower than he should have for it to only be a kiss of greeting.
When she felt his lips on her neck, she forgot where she was, forgot who she was, or what she was supposed to be doing.
"I know that scent well." He whispered into her ear as he took a deep breath of her scent. His breath almost felt like a growl in his chest as he took a hit of her intoxicating smell. It emanated off of her. His face was still much too close and much too low to be as innocent as she was feigning this encounter to be.
Just as quickly, he pulled away and held her at arms length, a wry smile on his lips as he drank her in visually. She battled with her legs to invent a steadiness she certainly wasn't feeling. He'd made her weak. So much for them just being friends. No one at the table even batted an eye. The whole exchange had been less than half a minute, but a lifetime of their encounters washed over her in that instant.
They sat at the table in close enough proximity to tell a thousand secrets to one another with their eyes and careful smiles. Without speaking they made dirty promises about what they would do to one another if ever they were able to escape the rest of their party. The drinks flowed easily. Her clothes felt too heavy and she was disinterested in the meal. She looked at him an he bit his lower lip ever.so.slightly.... She got fidgety and impatient.
She excused myself from the table and felt his eyes consuming her as she walked. He felt her wetness around him from across the table, across the room and his eyes continued to devour her as she moved slowly away from him and the party they were with. Knowing he was thinking about the same thing she was caused her to inhale slowly and hold tight her muscles at the entry to her love. There was no certainty they would be able to make good on what they were both so close to they could taste it. She didn't want to get her hopes up. She strode as confidently as she could towards the ladies' room. The hallway was dark and long and narrow and led to a tiny water closet with a pull string light.
She looked at herself in the mirror.
The flush she was feeling had crept up her neck to her cheeks. She rinsed her hands under cool water, wet up a paper towel and pressed it to her neck to try and sober up from this longing that had made her dizzy. She'd hoped the wet paper would help to cool her hunger.
When she thought she'd collected herself, she opened the too small door and stepped out only to be met with him standing a few feet down the hall propped against the wall, head hung ever so slightly. His presence startled her and she stumbled back. There was a tiny ledge between the door and the hallway and seeing him there caused her to slip and almost fall. He darted forward to save her, one arm slid into the small of her back and the other into her hand.
Around him, she even fell gracefully.
He righted her and she found herself up against the wall trying to catch/steady her breath, her pulse doing a step routine in my ears. They were frozen as if caught in a moment on a faraway dance floor. His arm round her waist, his other hand holding hers slightly above their heads. He leaned her arm against the door jam and allowed his arm to sloooowly travel down her wrist, her elbow, up her shoulder, cross her collarbone until his finger traced the line of her jaw to her chin. The soft pallate of her throat fit perfectly between his thumb and forefinger and still holding her by the throat he commanded her her neck upwards to welcome his kiss. With just those two fingers, he had the strength to hold her exactly where he wanted her. He had her by her neck pressed against the doorjam, the mass of his body against her. She couldn't get away if she wanted to and there was not a drop of fear in her heart. She liked how he held her.
Something about the danger of it made her pulse quicken.
Something about the aggression of it let her know exactly where he was waking up the next morning.
Too much needed to happen for them to part ways at the end of the meal.
Her chest rose against him. He left no room between them for it to fall.
Over his shoulder, she saw a busboy darting towards them,
misunderstanding the encounter and trying to come to her rescue much too late.
She welcomed his kiss.
She welcomed his arms holding her to him.
She welcomed all of the possibilities that night had to offer.
The dim light creeping around the curtains let her know they hadn't slept at all. He laid head to foot on the bed drinking in her legs through his hands. He'd run his fingers from heel to thigh, then glide his open palm over the vast expanse of her legs as if trying to memorize them or cover them in his fingertips. He kissed them, licked them, bit them, embraced them, held them. Even with morning-after hair and makeup she'd never felt as beautiful as she did that morning in his eyes as he devoured her legs. She'd never felt so tall, so supple, so womanly as she did laying across that hotel bed that morning.
Laying with him
Her skin was so awake with passion... she could feel the difference in the callouses on his hands, the soft pads of his fingertips....They were drowsy with sleep and longing for each other but too afraid to let the minutes pass by sleeping through the morning....after all, he was only in town for the night, and the night was running away from them fast.
She turned her gaze away from him briefly into the pillow and was met with her own scent mingling with his. Her breath seized sharply when she felt him wanting more against her thigh.
One hand slid effortlessly up her calves, up her thighs, making small circles 'round her belly as if saluting the home of the baby they joked of making.... up higher and higher, dancing along one breast, then the other until he had her neck once again cradled between those fingers of his. His mouth followed the same path his hand had taken. She arched under each slow, wet kiss...each one eliciting a soft gasp from her parted mouth. He climbed her slowly with his mouth til she pulled him close to her, so very close to her. She panted against the same place her face had nestled into hours earlier when they were still clothed.
He looked at her. She looked back. Their eyes met. Their stare answered hundreds of questions. Usually one to look away as she writhed with want, she held his gaze, smiled at him. He smiled back. They both inhaled deeply and then,
he entered her just as he was and she let him in....