The seconds on my watch ticked by and the moment I anticipated was growing nearer—soon I would see Andrea again. I could only think of how she looked the last time I had laid eyes on her. The braid of blonde hair curled across her smooth bronze shoulder, the blueness of her eyes stared wantonly into mine, the edginess of her Scandinavian cheekbones defined her perfect face, the O-shape form of her sensuous lips—her mouth inhaled deeply on the air fragranced with the scent of our lovemaking, the fullness of her breasts rose and pushed forward as her breath grew more labored; more raspy. Her nails sunk deeply into the meat of my chest as her body stiffened, then trembled rapidly. Her moans grew louder and more uncontrollable as the effects of her orgasm flooded over her—coursed through her and into the very core of her femininity.
My body jarred forward as the cab driver cursed and shouted in some Arabian dialect that was unfamiliar to me; my thoughts of the last encounter with Andrea disrupted. I looked past him and into the traffic ahead—typical Southern California gridlock. The stop and go traffic would move forward less then a quarter of a mile then stop again for three to five minutes. It was apparent that the forty miles between LAX and her home, in Santa Clarita, were surely going to take the better part of the evening to cover. I reiterated my instructions to the cab driver—warning him against stealing from me—I watched as he set the meter back on mileage, instead of charging me for time. I then leaned back into my seat, closing my eyes in an attempt to recapture the visions that were stolen from my mind's eye because of the driver's abrupt stop.
I entered the kitchen and watched as she stood there with her back to me. The rhythmic sounds of Bob Marley and the Wailers compelled her to move sensually—her hips sensuously sliding slowly back and forth. Beyond the music, I could hear the chopping sounds as she prepared the crisp vegetables for her locally famous fajitas. The sweetly seasoned strips of beef simmered on the stove and filled the air with the tang of chipotle and cilantro. I stood there and watched as she worked her culinary magic. The sensual curves of her body were accentuated by the trim fitting sundress that hung from her shoulders. The thinness of the material allowed the sun from the patio doors to silhouette her delectable form. Her long, slender legs were clearly outlined as the sun shone through the less than opaque material and the tantalizing whisper of her labia was proof of the nakedness that waited beneath the whimsy floral print. Her slender waist curved outward to meet the heart-shaped roundness of her cheeks that were clearly visible through the thin dress. Andrea's muscular calves extended down from the lace-trimmed hem and her petite feet shifted from side to side as she swayed to the beat of the island music she loved.