Once inside, Eva starts climbing the stairs. “I’m at the top on the right. It’s the largest of the four units,” she says.
I look around the foyer and take a deep breath then begin slowly climbing the steps after her. I can’t help but notice that she puts a little extra swing in her step, knowing very well what I must have my eyes.
And good Lord, what a sight it is.
Her pencil skirt hugs her curves like a second skin. Nylons with a line climb perfectly up the back of her legs, directing you to a heaven that’s every man’s dream. Red high heels make me drool at the many different ways I imagine her wearing them when I have those thick thighs of hers wrapped around me.
Her blonde hair falls in soft waves down her back, and the closer I get, I take in the slightest hint of her perfume. She smells like a vanilla dessert I can’t wait to devour.
Unlocking the door to her apartment, she lets me enter first. “After you, sir,” she smirks.
I smile as I pass by nervously. I need to taste her again, I need to feel her again in my arms. Three days has proved to be too long. Now, standing with her within arm’s reach makes me want to throw all self-control out the window and push her up against the doorframe.
She enters her apartment after me and puts her purse down on the counter, along with the roses I brought her. Then, she makes her way across the room and clicks on the wall heater. Turning, she timidly starts to straighten a stack of magazines on the coffee table.
Sticking my hands in my pockets to keep from grabbing her, I begin to walk around the small living room. The place is not what I expected. I expected something out of a magazine. Maybe something more city, and showy.
There are some newer-looking items, like the couch and coffee table. But then there’s a rustic, worn, and old feel to her place. It’s the kind of space you want to stay in, a place that feels like home. It’s warm and inviting. She watches me as I survey the living room and kitchen, and then make my way down the hallway, glancing into each room as I pass.
Two bedrooms. I wonder if she has a roommate. This is quite the place for one person to have all to themselves.
Turning and making my way back to her, I ask, “Only one bathroom?”
“Yeah, but it’s only me. I mean, it’s not the best when I have company, but it works, you know?”
Question answered. Finally. A place with no distractions or interruptions. Maybe I should satisfy my appetite, close the space between us, and take as much of her as she’s willing.
But figuring it would be a bad idea, I nod instead and continue my walk around the living room once more. She studies me, and begins to look nervous. I let her. Something about the way she squirms under my gaze makes me imagine how she might writhe in pleasure as I make sure she’s undeniably satisfied.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asks, making her way towards the kitchen and looking in her fridge. She bends slightly at the waist to gaze inside.
I take full advantage of the view as I walk over to the kitchen counter, and cock my head to the side to admire a few of the things my hands itch to touch. She has a slender waist that gives way to thick hips and an ass that I can’t wait to get my hands on.
“I have wine, beer, soda, water, uh … milk?” she continues, furrowing her brow as she says the last item. “You’re taking your chances with that one, though. I have no clue how long that has been in there.”
“Nah, I’m good,” I grin, leaning against the bar that separates the kitchen from the living room.
Picking up one of the town newspapers she has on her counter, I examine it for a moment. “Is this the paper you write for?” I ask, trying to make conversation.
“Yeah, it’s not much, but it’s a start,” she says, coming around the counter. “Allows me to do what I love while working close to home.”
She tenses as I read her writing.
“You’re good. I like the way you write,” I say, trying to calm the stress that is suddenly evident in her posture.
“This stuff is mostly repetitive news. It’s not that exciting to read,” she says, defending herself when her writing needs no defending. “I prefer the magazines I freelance for. The people I meet and the stories I write for them are amazing. Everyone I’ve met touches my life, and reminds me why I chose the career I did.”
She steps closer and looks over my shoulder.
I lean into her slightly, unable to focus on the words I’m pretending to read now that she’s pressed closer against me. Looking up, I smile at her, and she quickly returns the grin. The silence stretches and adds to the undeniable sexual tension rising between us.
“You know, every time I’m near you I fight the urge to want to kiss you,” I blurt out, catching both of us off guard.
Swallowing hard, she takes a deep breath, and whispers, “Why fight it?”
Leaning close, I wait until her eyes lock on mine, then move the hair off her shoulder, and trail my fingertips down her arm. She shivers deliciously under my touch. “Because if I start, I’m never going to want to stop.”
She licks her lips and I grow impatient the longer I hold out on tasting her.
