Nine o'clock Thursday evening found me sitting on the sofa, dressed in yellow boxers, a man's white tee shirt, and a pair of socks. I was folding laundry, absently watching television at the same time, when the doorbell rang. I knew who it was and yet, I was almost too nervous to answer the door.
The bell rang a second time and I began walking toward the door, briefly glancing at my reflection in the hall mirror. I opened it to find Peter standing there, dressed in jeans, a dark blue shirt, and a brown leather jacket.
He was wearing glasses, and his hair looked mussed. On his feet was a pair of ratty loafers. He grinned the minute he saw me.
"There you are." He said, letting himself in and brushing a kiss across my forehead before I could object. "I was wondering if you'd forgotten the bet this week."
Butterflies took flight in my stomach and my feet were cold inside my socks not from the autumn air pouring over them, but my fight or flight response kicking into gear. "Peter, really, I thought it was a onetime thing. Honest." I said, my voice wavering.
Peter turned to look at me. "Lucy, really." He shook his head and then walked into my living room. He surveyed the comfortable space. It was small, much like his own, but with a womanly feel to it. "What were you doing?" He asked, and shrugged out of his coat.
"Folding laundry." I said, trying to put clothes back in the basket but I was too late. Peter had made his way to the sofa before I could and picked up a pair of white cotton string bikini panties. He turned around and ran his fingers over them. I wasn't sure if I wanted to pass out from the embarrassment of him fondling my panties or from the knowledge of how it felt to be those panties in his fingers.
"Would you put those down, please?" I asked, reaching for the garment.
"Nope. I will not." He said and stuffed them into his pants pocket. "You want them, Lucy, you come get them." His eyes danced with glee and his grin grew wider.
"Peter .... Come on." I said and made a swift grab for them as they were hanging partway from his pocket.
Peter stepped back and laughed. "Try again." He teased.
"Look, Peter ..." I reached out again, but this time lost my balance and fell into him. We both then fell onto the sofa.
I tried to scramble up, but Peter's arms were locked around me. He looked down at me, breathing heavy, and whispered, "You have beautiful green eyes, you know that? Struck me from day one how beautiful they are."
"Th ~ th ~ thank you." I stumbled over the word like it was a piece of concrete.
"You're welcome." Peter whispered in reply and dipped his mouth to mine.
I was a goner. His hands reached up to cup my face, his mouth slanted, his lips parted, and his tongue was searching for mine. Once found, it was gently sucked and stroked, and I responded in kind. We broke apart, gasping for breath, many minutes later.
I looked up at him, eyes dilated with lust, and stood. Without a word, I headed toward the back of the house, to my bedroom. I didn't turn the light on, just pulled the blankets down, exposing the crisp white linen of the fitted sheet. Peter walked in behind me and pulled me into his embrace.
"White sheets? Are you kidding?" he laughed, and kissed my neck on both sides, nuzzling his way across.
