As I left Melissa's apartment building, the sun in my eyes burned for a second. It was later than I thought and I couldn't be late to meet Damon. I pulled up the app for a car.
On the drive my mind drifted back to the night before. It didn't seem real. I'd had enough dreams about Melissa in the last few weeks, this had to be just another one, right?
Except I could still smell her on my skin, taste her on my tongue. Her hair all messed up, her voice soft and commanding, then loud and begging. Her perfect tits under my hands, her wicked smile over me as my cock thrust into her. And not just the sex, but how comfortable it felt, holding her as we slept, being naked next to her, having breakfast together.
The car stopped and I dashed to my apartment and ditched my clothes. I'd get away with not showering again but the jeans and now wrinkled t-shirt I'd worn to the movies last night wouldn't cut it at the places Damon picked for lunch. So on with a button-down, trousers, leather shoes. I thought about finding a tie, but I still had to get across town and being late was the worse sin.
Damon was at the back table on the terrace. As I sat down, he raised an eyebrow at me, then waved at the waitress.
"Better be quick, I already ordered."
I ordered eggs and coffee and the waitress sauntered away again.
"Big night?" Damon said.
"Yeah, something like that," I agreed. He had that smug, amused look he gets when I mess up, but at least he wasn't lecturing me again. I tried to shift his focus away from me.
"Have you heard from Ramona lately? What was it this time, penguins?" I asked.
Damon's smirk got bigger. "Yes, mother is fine, the fundraiser for the
pelicans
was a great success. She found a new artist, though, so I doubt we'll hear much from her until she's ready to unveil him."
"Oh, that's good." Damon's widowed mother was a major philanthropist, on the board of half a dozen charities, and always had a new cause to champion.
"So you won't have to worry about your weekends being monopolised by her parties for the next few months." The waitress appeared with coffees and water. Damon continued, "I wonder what you'll do with all your free time."
"Um, I'm probably going to be busy for a while, I might have to cancel lunch next week," I blurted out. At least, I hoped I would be busy next weekend too. Laying the groundwork for an excuse couldn't hurt.
"You have a big project in the works? I didn't hear about anything new coming out of your department."
Crap, he was calling my bluff. "Oh, it probably didn't make it up to your level. Just some stuff Terry wants me to take care of. Nothing major."
The waitress returned with our order and I hurried to eat so I didn't have to answer any more questions.
"I assume you can still make time for training, the club tournament is coming up," Damon said.
"Oh, sure, no problem. We'll do great this year, promise." Ramona insisted that Damon participate in her club's tennis competitions every year, and he always dragged me in as his partner for doubles. We did okay, although I wasn't at Damon's level, I did need the practice.
Damon leaned back in his chair and said, "You should have worn a tie."
"Huh? C'mon man, are you really going to dress code me, like we're back in high school?" I retorted.
"No. But if you are going to run around with a hickey on your neck like a horny teenager, you should wear a tie. It would cover it better."
My hand flew up and Damon laughed. "Relax, there's nothing there. What's her name?"
"What? Whose name?" I stuttered.
"Anson, please. You got here late, you reek of flowers, and you have been grinning at your eggs this whole time. Oh, and the new waitress touched your arm twice and you didn't even look at her. You met someone. More than just met, since you used her shampoo."
I gave up. Damon always knew. Ten years since he'd taken me under his wing in high school, the rich popular jock protecting the poor scholarship student. I don't know why I tried to hide anything from him. "Melissa. I've never met anyone like her. She's... she's amazing."
"They always are. Will you be seeing Melissa again?"
"Yeah, tonight, I said I'd cook."
"Hmmph. Go to Voula's for the marscapone. They should have figs now too."
"Yeah, right, I need figs and mascarpone and olives... wait, how did you know what I'm going to make?"
"You always make tiramisu when you want to impress someone. So finish eating and go already, you need all the time you can get, the way you cook."
I shovelled down the last mouthfuls and bounced up out of my chair. "Thanks, Damon, I'll talk to you on Monday."
"Don't bother, I don't want to know," he called after me.
@@@@
I had texted Melissa my address and to come over at seven. At ten minutes to, I checked everything again: Table set. Ingredients prepped. Music. Clean sheets. No stray socks lying around.
Seven o'clock. God, I was sweating.
Did I need to change my shirt? No, it's fine.
Seven thirteen.
Did I miss a message? No, just a thumbs up emoji. She must be late. She's not coming. I messed up somehow -
Knock knock.
She's here!
I hurried to the door.
Okay, ready.
I opened it and she was there. Strappy top and short flowing skirt and sandals, a summer jacket, she looked casual but more dressed up than last night.
"Melissa! Please come in," I said. I wanted to throw her against the wall and bury my face in her tits. I took her bag and jacket instead and showed her in. I tried to remember what Damon had tried to teach me about courtesy and manners and how to be a proper host, but all I could think of was how much I wanted to taste her again.
