She was expecting me, and had left her back door unlocked. I turned the doorknob and let myself in. I closed and locked the door behind me, and felt the tenseness start to settle from my shoulders. Finally, after a long, hard day, I've arrived at her place. I take off my shoes and hang up my jacket, and loosen my shirt.
I can hear her in the next room. I walk softly over the thick carpet into her home. I see her, putting on her makeup. My relaxation is almost complete, now. A smile starts to creep at the corners at my mouth. It might be the first one today.
"Hi there."
She turns to me, and gives me a quick hug. "Hi, Birdie." And there it is, that glorious smile I've come to know so well. She's almost ready, she's almost dressed. Or rather, she's as dressed as she's going to be this evening, in a short little black seethrough babydoll, patterned stockings, and a garter. Tight little pigtails. My goodness, she's outdone herself.
I used to wonder why she was never quite ready when I got here. Why I had to wait while she put on her makeup or get dressed. But I've come to realize that there was never any need to get uptight. I've come to enjoy these last few minutes. The slow buildup of anticipation. Watching her get ready was a little like the slow and majestic unfolding of a butterfly out of a chrysalis. The waiting was like the start of so many dates that I had known. Real dates, with real girlfriends. And the truth is, there was never any rush. We had the evening to ourselves.
She brushed on her eyeliner. Layered, deep, dark. She was transforming. She was becoming almost unrecognizable as the pretty, sweet girl-next-door that I knew from between my late-night visits. She was becoming the bad girl of my fantasies instead, and she knew it. And I liked it. No, I more than liked it. I relished it, she didn't do this very often.
I turned, and set down the wine that I'd brought. I hunted up a pair of wine glasses and a corkscrew.
I returned to see her put on her mascara, craning toward the mirror. Her lashes became full and rich and alluring, framing those incredible eyes. First one, then the other. I asked how her day was. I watched those powdered high cheekbones move, and she might as well have been reciting a phonebook, she had me in her thrall. I broke the spell with a shake of my head. I'd better pay at least a little attention to the conversation. I talked about my day, the traffic, the music that I'd been listening to lately.
I realized I was staring again. I chuckled quietly to myself, and changed the subject. I fiddled with the wine and corkscrew for a moment, prying loose the cork. I sniffed the cork for a moment. A good vintage.
She reached among several tubes of lipstick on her shelf and chose a deep blood red. I stared, transfixed, as she slowly rolled the incarnadine hue over her pursed, bee-stung lips. My imagination ran wild for just a second, and I felt a stirring below. No, that fantasy would become flesh, in not too long. Patience, my little friend. Ever the playful tease, she quickly deduced my situation and gave the front of my pants a little tweak as she brushed past me to the next room.
A final brushing away of an errant strand of hair with her fingers, and a quick puff of perfume. She turned toward me and looked just radiant. The grin on my face was threatening to become permanent. I reached out for her and gave her a small hug. "Wine?"
We walked into the bedroom. It was the end of the beginning, and the beginning of the end of waiting. She's made a special effort to look good for me tonight. I can't wait to see what she else has in store for me this evening.
I can hear her in the next room. I walk softly over the thick carpet into her home. I see her, putting on her makeup. My relaxation is almost complete, now. A smile starts to creep at the corners at my mouth. It might be the first one today.
"Hi there."
She turns to me, and gives me a quick hug. "Hi, Birdie." And there it is, that glorious smile I've come to know so well. She's almost ready, she's almost dressed. Or rather, she's as dressed as she's going to be this evening, in a short little black seethrough babydoll, patterned stockings, and a garter. Tight little pigtails. My goodness, she's outdone herself.
I used to wonder why she was never quite ready when I got here. Why I had to wait while she put on her makeup or get dressed. But I've come to realize that there was never any need to get uptight. I've come to enjoy these last few minutes. The slow buildup of anticipation. Watching her get ready was a little like the slow and majestic unfolding of a butterfly out of a chrysalis. The waiting was like the start of so many dates that I had known. Real dates, with real girlfriends. And the truth is, there was never any rush. We had the evening to ourselves.
She brushed on her eyeliner. Layered, deep, dark. She was transforming. She was becoming almost unrecognizable as the pretty, sweet girl-next-door that I knew from between my late-night visits. She was becoming the bad girl of my fantasies instead, and she knew it. And I liked it. No, I more than liked it. I relished it, she didn't do this very often.
I turned, and set down the wine that I'd brought. I hunted up a pair of wine glasses and a corkscrew.
I returned to see her put on her mascara, craning toward the mirror. Her lashes became full and rich and alluring, framing those incredible eyes. First one, then the other. I asked how her day was. I watched those powdered high cheekbones move, and she might as well have been reciting a phonebook, she had me in her thrall. I broke the spell with a shake of my head. I'd better pay at least a little attention to the conversation. I talked about my day, the traffic, the music that I'd been listening to lately.
I realized I was staring again. I chuckled quietly to myself, and changed the subject. I fiddled with the wine and corkscrew for a moment, prying loose the cork. I sniffed the cork for a moment. A good vintage.
She reached among several tubes of lipstick on her shelf and chose a deep blood red. I stared, transfixed, as she slowly rolled the incarnadine hue over her pursed, bee-stung lips. My imagination ran wild for just a second, and I felt a stirring below. No, that fantasy would become flesh, in not too long. Patience, my little friend. Ever the playful tease, she quickly deduced my situation and gave the front of my pants a little tweak as she brushed past me to the next room.
A final brushing away of an errant strand of hair with her fingers, and a quick puff of perfume. She turned toward me and looked just radiant. The grin on my face was threatening to become permanent. I reached out for her and gave her a small hug. "Wine?"
We walked into the bedroom. It was the end of the beginning, and the beginning of the end of waiting. She's made a special effort to look good for me tonight. I can't wait to see what she else has in store for me this evening.
very intriguing