A Little More of the Story

Part I


She made a dash for the door and he followed. Turning, she smiled into his eyes and took the umbrella, then opened the door.

"Thank you," she said. She was a little breathless, but whether it was more from the running or from what she intended to do, she wouldn't have been able to say.

He smiled.

She leaned forward and kissed him, tasting the fresh rain on his lips. Then, taking his arm, she pulled him through the door after her. "Come out of the rain for a bit?"

She greeted the doorman, ignoring his poorly disguised look of surprise as she steered the man past the front desk and over to the elevator. The doors opened and a moment later they were alone inside.

Before he could say anything, she kissed him again -- first on the cheek, beside his mouth, tasting the cool raindrops -- then on the lips. He brought a hand to her face, slipped it around to cradle the back of her head, kissing along her jawline, down her neck, into the hollow where her neck met her shoulder, and she felt an intense heat building within her.

She placed one hand on his chest, feeling the irrhythmic rise and fall of it., and underneath, his heart pounding.

The elevator doors opened with a ding. She grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down the hall to her door, fumbled the key into the lock, and pulled him inside. Before she could rethink her decision, she began to unbutton her blouse.

"No, wait," he said. "Let me."

His voice was deeper than she'd expected; his enunciation precise. Her skin prickled into goosebumps.

He undid each button with an almost ritualistic care, while her breathing became even more rapid. After the last one, he paused for just a moment, then slowly drew the folds of her shirt apart. She heard his breath hiss between his teeth, and then he was bending forward, lips trailing across the top of each breast.

As she looked down at the back of the stranger's head bent forward in worship, her stomach clenched in anticipation and the delicious terror of the unknown. He could be anyone. She was suddenly aware of the moist heat between her legs, the swollen slickness there. She bent forward to kiss his neck, brought her hands to his face and raised it to her own.

Reaching back, she undid her bra, and with a shrug of her shoulders, it slipped to the floor between them. She moved her hands to his shirt, unbuttoning at first, then, impatient, rending the sides apart so that the last few buttons popped off and the shirt fell open. His chest was hot beneath her hands. She slid them back up to his neck, his face, pressing her breasts against him, feeling his heat against her body.