It had finally gotten to be too much for me. I booked a flight and made arrangements. I was terrified that what would actually happen was that you would not show up and I would just be sitting there in the airport, in another country, until my return flight was ready. That is not the way it played out, for if it had, I would not be writing this story now. I arrived at the baggage claim and saw you there; long black hair flipped over one side of your head, with that “Cindy Crawford in the 80s” style. It had to be you; I knew it immediately. Your gorgeous brown eyes twinkled with delight. Your full, luscious lips curved up into the most adorable smile I’d ever seen. And my own face lit up as bright as the mirrors of Archimedes’ Death Ray. I could feel my whole body singing. I wanted to do that cliched romance trope, “drop your bags and run across the lobby into each other’s arms,” but I knew that it would’ve ended in the “hilarious” romcom version where we would have crashed into each other and probably broken your nose against my chest or something stupid like that. So I kept my carry-on slung over my shoulder and strode across the distance to greet you. We embraced and you reached up, on your toes, to kiss me. The taste of your mouth was bliss as I kissed you back, no longer able to hide my desire behind a computer or phone screen. I nibbled your lip as we broke the connection, a teasing glimpse of what might be in the plans for later.
~~~
You drove us from the airport to your house. We chatted about everyday, mundane things. We talked about the esoteric, the profane, the arcane, and the divine. The whole time I was glad that you were the one driving because I could not keep my eyes off of you. I would have crashed the car. You were so much more beautiful than the photographs had revealed.
After you gave me a tour of the house; our discussion drifted toward themes of sex: our desires; wants; needs; and limits. We set only a few boundaries. Which made them all the more important to not be crossed.
~~~
It was early evening; the sun had set but the night was not yet fully upon us. We went to your bedroom. The lights were out, but there was still enough ambient light to see each other clearly. We stood there, face to face, seeing the longing in each other’s eyes. I held you by your upper arms and gave you these commands: “I want you to strip for me. How you strip is up to you. You may be as quick or slow as you like. Strip for seduction or convenience. I will watch without judgment. But, I want you to do this for me.”
I let you go and you took two steps backward, away from me. You smiled that wicked, vixen, bratty smile. A smile which you have always denied having, even to this day. The same smile that I had seen in my mind without a picture for guidance. I knew it would be there on your angelic face. I grinned back and you turned and walked away, out of the room. I waited, bemused but amused. You came back with a chair from the dinner table and put it behind me. I started to sit. You interrupted, “Stay still.”
You slid back around to face me, back to our original starting positions. “Now we can begin. Tell me again what you want,” you asked.
“I want you to be naked. I want to watch you remove all of your clothing. I want you to do this in whatever manner you prefer, but I want to know that it is for ME.”
You came one step closer and pushed me down, into the chair, then turned and stepped away, slowly sliding one of the straps of your tank top down over your right shoulder. “Then watch,” you replied, grinning impishly over your left shoulder.
You slid the strap off your left shoulder and wriggled the top down to your waist. Your back was bare, save for the thin straps of your bra. It was just as wonderful as I had ever imagined, I longed to press my own bare chest against it, but, “Each thing in its time,” I mentally reminded myself. You hooked your fingers around the crumpled shirt and top hem of your skirt then began to shimmy them over your hips. My cock twitched and jumped with every wiggle of your hips. When you bent forward to slide your clothes the rest of the way to the floor, it took all my self-control to remain seated. I was very grateful that you had pushed me into the chair before you started. If I’d still been standing, I would’ve missed the rest of the performance and probably most of the foreplay. I wanted to take you right there and then.
You stood back up; stepped out of your pile of clothing; and reached behind your back to unfasten your bra. As you peeled it off, you slowly turned in place to face me. You dropped the bra to the floor and kicked it away with the rest of your clothing. You stood there, facing me, obviously becoming very self-conscious and suddenly embarrassed. You started shifting in place and moving your arms to cover yourself. “Stop,” I commanded very gently, “You are beautiful and I have been waiting for this moment since we first met. That first flirtatious exchange. Allow me this moment to fully take in your beauty. Don’t hide it.”
You smiled with uneasy confidence. You knew I had told you the truth, even though you had a difficult time believing and accepting it. You stood with your arms loosely at your side. I visually consumed your body and shape and every curve. I mentally cataloged every inch as best I could in the reduced lighting. But you were growing nervous again, uncomfortable from my inspection. “You aren’t done, love. You are not yet naked,” I reminded you, mostly to give you something to do to feel less awkward.
You turned away again to remove your lace underwear. You were back in the moment and enjoying yourself. When you bent over to finish removing your underwear, you “accidentally” stumbled back a step, your ass just inches from my face. I playfully swatted it, not too hard, just enough for a slight sting. When you’d removed the last of your clothing, you stood in the pale evening light being filtered in from the windows and slowly turned in place, like a ballerina atop a music box. I stood and closed the small gap between us. I stopped you when you were again facing me. I closed my eyes while deeply inhaling the scents that were a part of this woman and your world. I wanted to remember every single aspect and facet of this moment. Then I leaned in and kissed your mouth. It was a full, passionate kiss filled with everything I felt: the intense heat of desire; the tender compassion of love; the firm strength of control; and the bending allowance of surrender. I caressed your face, letting my fingers explore it gently, memorizing by touch what I’d memorized by sight already. “I –“, I started to say it, but you cut me off.
“Your turn, mister,” you cooed, “I want you naked as well.”
So I stood there, a devilish grin growing wider and wider on my face, “Ok, so do it. Get me naked. I won’t interfere. Strip me.”
——- below is still a WiP (not checked for typos or grammar) ——-
You started by working on my shirt, one button at a time. You had only unfastened about half of them before you were impatient enough to rip the rest free. “I can sew them back,” you mused as the remaining buttons tinkled to the floor.
“I said I wouldn’t interfere, but do show some restraint, Love.”
You left the shirt on, hanging open, kneeled, and proceeded to undo my belt. You slowed your pace, dragging my belt through the loops on my shorts. You dropped the belt to the floor and stared up at me from the floor.
Author Notes: This is a work of fiction. It is a fictitious encounter between two people I once knew. It’s still an active project, though on hiatus.