Friday, February 18, 2011


He was ever the gentleman, never doing more than touching her hand or shoulder or occasionally the small of her back.  Date after date, night after night went by and still his kisses remained on her cheek.  Although he didn’t touch her lips, those kisses were anything but chaste.  He would lean in close to her, taking a moment to inhale her scent.  His warm breath brushed against her skin before he gently settled his lips on the side of her face.  The lips lingered there, warm, damp, alive and pulsing.  The tip of his tongue danced on her skin, making her arch her neck towards him, desperate to increase the contact.  She could feel his heat and desire for her and her core tingled with awareness of him.  She took in the scent that was uniquely him despite the fact that she didn't know how to breathe when he was so close to her.  Then he would pull away, reluctantly releasing her from his touch.  Her brain slowly engaged and air eventually returned to her lungs.  Her skin and her soul were already missing him. 

He chuckled at her obvious longing to feel his lips on hers, taste him in her mouth, thrust her tongue at him over and over.  There was no hiding her arousal, her nipples perking under her top, her skin flushing, eyes dilating.  Each time however, he gently deposited her safely inside her home and went on his way, leaving her wanting.

She had nearly given up and resigned herself that this would never go any further when he abruptly changed gears.  They had been dating a bit over two months and were at an exclusive restaurant, waiting for appetizers to arrive.  It had taken her a few dates to get used to him ordering for her.  At first she bristled at the idea that she could not choose for herself what she felt like eating.  Somewhere along the line, things shifted and now she was rather enjoying the pampering.  He knew her tastes sometimes better than she did herself.  He'd discuss various options and hone in on what she seemed interested in while also encouraging her to expand her pallet and try new taste profiles.  She sat close to him in the luxuriously upholstered booth when he casually rested his strong hand on her knee.  She sucked in her breath feeling the tingle rocket through her body and settle in her pelvis.  He leaned into her and she wondered if he was going to finally, really, passionately kiss her. 

“What are you wearing Mari?”

“What?”  Did he mean her perfume?  She’d never had a guy ask about that.  She wasn’t really wearing anything anyway, just the citrusy scent that was in her shampoo and shower gel.

“Under your dress, what are you wearing?”

Oh my god, was she hearing things?  He was watching her, not letting her ignore the question.  She felt herself turning pink and knew she had to say something.  “Uh, underwear.”  He raised an eyebrow and waited for her to go on.  “Bra and panties.”  She said quietly then ducked her head, unable to look him in the eye.

© 2011 André Santhomas

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