There was a call from the hotel desk that gave me the warning that you had indeed arrived. It was the only thing I had asked them to do. I had already taken care of everything else. I hung up the phone and stared at my reflection.
My eyes were wide and full of excitement as well as apprehension. What if I was not what you were expecting? What if you were disappointed and simply turned around and walked out? How would I feel if my worst fears came true? I swallowed the fear in my throat, watched by lips become moistened by the quick touch of my tongue and turned toward the balcony of my room.
That's how you found me.
I heard the knowing click of the door's lock being released by the key card. The sound of the door being opened and the seal of its frame, sucking free of the steel, made me shiver. I took a deep breath and waited.
The air in the room was warm; the air outside was cool. It was a contrast of temperatures, just as I was a contrast of emotions. I had left the door to the balcony open and knew with each second that passed you were staring at my figure.
I had allowed my hair to remain loose; the waves were lifted and tossed against my shoulders and danced softly in the gentle evening breeze. I stared out into the night, watching the city lights flicker as various objects interrupted their brilliance.
The sound of traffic was comforting because it calmed the beat of my heart. The urge to turn around and face you was intense. My fingers gripped the metal railing that I leaned upon and still you did not come to me.
Were you too entranced by the revealing dress that dipped low and showed flesh? The glimmering cream fabric caught beams of light and when the wind flowed across the material it shimmered softly. It pooled at the small of my back, where if one were to stand directly over me, they could see the lace and silk that was tucked between the round cheeks of my butt.
The dress hung over my hips, to fall and glide over my thighs, down past my knees and rested just a breath away from my stilettos' heels. They were silver, a blending color to the rest of my carefully picked ensemble. There was a slit up the back of the dress, that revealed my legs, stocking clad by a thin, sheer layer of ivory. A seam, somewhat darker than the fabric, skated up the back of each thigh, and the tops were secured by garters that bit into the lace-covered elastic.
I heard it then - - - the first knowing sound that you were staying.
The door shut and the lock slid home.
My eyes fluttered closed; my palms began to sweat and I blushed at my own physical reaction to what was to come. I rolled my fingers into fists and tried to force my hands to stop their trembling. I moved my palms over the railing and cooled the flesh while wiping what I could of the sweat away.
Your footsteps seemed to echo on the carpet, though I knew the sound was less than audible. It was again my heart; its pulse pounded in my head, poured through my veins, dug at my soul. Another sound told me you were removing your jacket, and placing it somewhere in the room. I took another breath and waited. Time seemed to move in slow motion, but yet, this is what I wanted – want I had desired since you first mentioned wanting me.
I felt you and yet we had not yet touched.
I knew without a doubt you stood behind me, just inches away and all I had to do was turn around. I remained still. The view before me – the city, the cars, the lights – all of these blurred as your fingers stroked my hair.
A soft whimper slipped past my lips.
The touch of your hand as it slid to my shoulders made my toes curl in trepidation. You pushed my red hair to one side, exposed my neck to your hungry gaze and made my body melt. A soft chuckle rumbled from your chest as I leaned back into you. You held me for a moment, one hand sliding around my waist, the other around my throat.
There was no sense of restriction to my person. I knew you were simply holding me; you were allowing me the comfort of your body and the strength in it was just as I had imagined. Your lips found my shoulder as your hand moved from my neck to the edge of the gown.
The moan from your throat, as you tasted my skin for the first time, caused my stomach to flip. I pressed a palm to my abdomen, only to come in contact with your hand.
You moved it away and covered my fingers with yours; our hands were together; your fingers linked with mine and your lips still continued to assault my senses. The air moved around us, stirring in us both a shiver. You turned me then and for the first time I was able to look into your eyes and breathe the same air that skated into your lungs.
Words were lost to me as I drank you in. Your eyes - your smile - your masculine presence that emanated from the very core of you – all of it is there – all of it is in the flesh.
I reached out and touched your face; my fingers traced the shape of your lips, the curve of your smile, the laugh lines that surrounded your mouth. I grinned; you chuckled. My finger glided down and felt the pulse under your skin, caressed your throat.
