I wander around my apartment slowly, passing the time. I got changed ten minutes ago, out of sheer impatience. I swapped my loose blue jeans and plain t-shirt for dark skinny jeans and a white shirt under a fitted black, button up shirt. I unroll the sleeves and roll them back up again, button the shirt up and decide it looked better undone, all the while wondering if I'll be too early if I go now.
In the end, I arrive late. It used to be called fashionably late, but I think now it's just late. By the time I'm there, Alex Dumont is already there too. All female attention is on him. A few guys are trying to hide their sneaky glances at him. I suppose the others might not notice, but to me, they may as well declare their undying love for him with huge neon signs right there.
Eventually, some attention comes my way. I say eventually. I mean after about ten minutes, while I'm still looking for someone to snack on. Mind you, no one's near drunk enough for that yet.
I feel her hands on my hips, snaking around from behind to my front. Turning to face her, she grins at me devilishly. She looks a lot like Lille. Inwardly I scowl, trying to push back memories of my long dead wife as she offers me a drink. I politely decline the alcoholic one, opting for the one pulsing through her right now instead. Of course, I don't tell her that.
She pulls me over to a quiet corner and starts kissing me, one hand in the small of my back, pulling my hips against hers and one on the back of my head, her fingers threaded in my hair.
I remember Lille holding me like this, once. It was the day after the wedding. I suppose you would call it a honeymoon, but for us, we stayed at the ranch Pops had given us as a wedding gift. She was obsessing over making it a home. Insisted that it wouldn't be a home til we consummated our wedding. I'd have done it the night of our wedding, but Momma and Pops were celebrating with Lille's mom and dad, insisting that we be there for the celebration. So anyways the second night we were married, she held me just like this, kissed me just like this and, well... d'you really need me to tell you where we went from there?
I can assure you, though, this won't end up the same way. She rubs one of her legs up mine and pushes her fingers down under the waistband of my jeans. Her kiss is hot and as her surface thoughts jump out at me, I hear them screaming loneliness. So she wants a comfort fuck. That's nice dear, but I'm not in the mood. I pull my lips from hers and kiss down her neck, pushing my teeth into her artery. She tenses and I soothe her. This power is one I particularly like. I can make my next meal feel exactly what I want them to feel. In this girl's case, I make it feel like the sex she's been imagining she'd get all day.
And why not?