I shut the door to my apartment and exhaled in a long, slow breath. The snow fell heavily around me, blocking out the sounds of the city. There was three full inches on the sidewalk, and my black wool coat cradled the snow like a lover's hand on virgin skin.
Am I really doing this?
I thought as I stepped off the curb walking across the single lane dividing our apartments.
The snow had already covered her tire tracks. I reached the edge of her building and paused, clutching the little box in my hand tighter.
I am completely ridiculous.
I had bought the simple diamond necklace shortly after Thanksgiving, but as I'd paid for it I knew I would never give it to her. We'd never spoken, we'd only made eye contact twice, once while jogging, and once while she was retrieving something off her dresser.
The beautiful vision who lived in the apartment next door to mine, and had masturbated for me 327 times. Since she had given me the lovely gift of her buxom breasts, tight ass, and flat tummy over and over again, I had justified I needed to get her something lovely too. After all what girl doesn't love diamonds?
Besides,
my thought process raced on,
its not like you can't afford it.
I could afford it. Despite the turn in the economy, business for me had been good.
I started walking again, it had only been about five minutes since she had held out the silver and gold present, "For you, From me" emblazoned on its tag. She had been dressed in a Sexy-Santa lingerie set, red velvet with white fur trim, the bra expertly holding up her voluptuous breasts, the sheer red "skirt" cut to not really cover her velvet bikini-style briefs, her chocolate curls cascading around her creamy white skin. As soon as she'd shown it to me through the heavily falling snow I had walked out of the room, grabbing the diamond. I had debated on changing into a nice button down and slacks, or perhaps a three-piece suit, but she had seen me in my black sweater and khakis. I was too afraid it would attract attention to change. So I'd slipped on socks and shoes and wrapped the diamond -- if she was giving me a present than I could give her one right? I sighed.
What if she thinks I'm trying to pay her for letting me watch?
I thought as I let the brass knocker fall in the center of her real-pine wreath.
I took a breath, and almost slipped the package in my coat pocket when the door opened.
God.
She was breathtaking, her cheeks were flushed, possibly from embarrassment or perhaps from the orgasms she had gifted me only moments ago. She bit her lip and I saw an expression in her brown eyes she tried to block out with a sexy grin, her tongue peaking between perfect white teeth and licking her brilliantly red upper lip. The expression had been excitement, she had looked completely thrilled I had come over.
"Hi," I said, "I'm," but that was as far as I got. She sprang into my arms, her lips locking on mine. I caught her with the hand holding the diamond and caught the door-frame with my other hand, keeping us upright, my feet slipping on the slick sidewalk.
God. I thought again. Her lips were like satin, smooth and moist, just enough to be soft. I kissed her back, and felt her tongue dart into my mouth. She tasted like a candy cane. I slid my foot forward looking for a better purchase, and feeling her leg wrap around mine. As much as I wanted to enjoy the kiss the awkwardness of keeping us standing with the icy ground was distracting.
She leaned back with a grin, and I got my first up close view of her.
Her eyes were a deep brown, lit with the slightest hint of green right around the pupil, which at the moment was very, very dilated. Her brows were perfect arcs, the kind my mother says comes from painful waxing. Her nose was small, slightly upturned, with the lightest sprinkling of freckles making her look youthful. Her mouth was a perfect thick curve, not as thick as Angelina's, but then who's is?
I let my own mouth break into a smile, I could feel my manhood pressed between us, and knew she recognized it as well.
"Hi, I'm," I began again, but her fingers flashed out, she pressed them over my lips silencing me.
"No names yet," she said, her voice sexy, although deeper than I'd pictured.
I chuckled, but nodded.
"If you must, you may call me Noel, and I will call you Tom, since you're a peeper," she said, which delighted me thoroughly as my name was indeed Tom. "Can we go inside now? I'm freezing!" She asked, a giggle escaping those lovely lips.
I set her gently down inside her own door, and noticed she was indeed cold, her nipples pointed through the velvet top. Up close I could tell they were a larger than I had originally guessed definitely larger than the end of the pencil eraser I'd compared them to previously.
"What's this?" She asked, noticing the present I held in my hand.
I laughed, "You weren't supposed to see that. I hadn't decided if I should give it to you yet."
She grinned and pulled me in by the wrist, "Ooooh! What is it?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" I asked, playing at suave. Honestly I was impressed by how easy it came, usually I'm too nervous to talk to women. Maybe they should all only wear lingerie.
I glanced around the little entry way of her apartment, in truth it was the exact same shape as mine, but in reverse, a staircase turning around column. On top of mine was a fake plant, on top of hers was a sculpture. Black and white glass twisting in a double helix around a gray abstract piece. Maybe it was because I was so turned on my balls ached, but the gray part looked like a couple making love. It was the size that if I shoved it up her cunt it would induce pleasure cries.
Noel led me up the stairs, her velvet clad butt swinging more than necessary, but completely entrancing my eyes. At the top her living room carried the black and white theme, subtle pops of color were scattered here and there, blues mostly, especially heavy on the turquoise side. She had other glass sculptures on an entertainment center that was ridiculously over-sized compared to the little television on the shelf, and several soft looking pillows on the modern-styled white couch.
"Wine? Champagne? Eggnog?" She asked, entering her kitchen, it was well equipped, stainless steel appliances, lots of glass.
"Whatever you're having is fine," I said with a smile, still taking in the styling. "You're bedroom is very," I paused. I didn't want to offend any of her tastes, "different from this."
She laughed, "My mother sees everything but my bedroom."
