Close Encounter

They were sitting across the table from each other in her kitchen.‭ ‬Soon they would eat,‭ ‬it was cooking,‭ ‬but right now they were sipping white wine.‭ ‬It was probably as light and sweet as her thighs.‭ ‬That‭’‬s what he figured.

‭“‬You know,‭”‬ he continued,‭ “‬I‭’‬m always ready to play a few rounds of‭ ‬‘get to know you‭’‬,‭ ‬I am‭! ‬But I‭’‬m always prepared to wait for my desert.‭ ‬I‭’‬m one of those fellows who can push back his desert and save it for later.‭”

He smiled a mischievous smile.

She crossed her fabulous legs and in doing so allowed her tight dress to ride up just a taste.‭ ‬It was the one she‭’‬d swore she‭’‬d never wear in public.‭ ‬Too tight and revealing she called it.

‭“‬That‭’‬s good.‭”‬ she answered.‭ “‬I‭’‬m ready for that.‭”

It was only to obvious she was ready for anything,‭ ‬the little Spygirl.

‭“‬Here,‭”‬ she asked leaning forward,‭ “‬would you like some more wine‭?”

Her cleavage was enchanting.‭ ‬The passing years and gravity itself had shown absolutely no ill effects on her small perfect breasts and she knew it.

He took note of this fact.‭ ‬She was always handing him facts to take note of.‭ ‬Intimate yummy facts.‭ ‬Always ready to hand over information,‭ ‬the little Spygirl.
He cleared his throat.

‭“‬Of course you realize,‭ ‬I‭’‬m keeping my distance on purpose.‭ ‬For your sake.‭”

He said this‭ ‬one while trying to remain aloof,‭ ‬detached,‭ ‬uninterested,‭ ‬non-engaged.

She was having none of it.

‭“‬And why is that‭?”‬ she countered,‭ ‬taking a sip.‭ ‬Here‭’‬s when he‭’‬d take note of her perfectly sculptured throat.‭ ‬She was ready to show him what was what.

He needed a phrase that would reinforce his manhood.‭ ‬Show her who was in charge.‭ ‬Something strong and confident.

‭“‬Because once we touch,‭ ‬it‭’‬s all over.‭”

She looked calmly at him.‭ ‬Face to face,‭ ‬eye to eye.‭ ‬She knew she had him.‭

“My shoulder‭’‬s been bothering me today.‭ ‬My physical therapist was too hard on me,‭" ‬she pouted like a lady in distress.‭ ‬She put down her glass and started rubbing her shoulder.

‭“‬I wish I could reach it better.‭ ‬It‭’‬s so awkward doing it yourself.‭”

It was perfectly true.‭ ‬She was‭ ‬tired of doing it to herself.‭ ‬She wanted a man to do it to‭ ‬her,‭ ‬which was clear even to him.‭ ‬So,‭ ‬ever the gentleman he offered,

‭“‬Would you like a massage,‭ ‬Miss Charlotte May Applebee‭?”‬

He noticed her name as it spilled from his lips tasted like ambrosia.‭ ‬Just saying Charlotte excited him.‭ ‬He knew he was in trouble,‭ ‬wonderful trouble.

‭“‬Well,‭ ‬that might be just the thing.‭ ‬Let‭’‬s go sit on my red couch where there‭’‬s more room.‭ ‬We‭’‬ll be more comfortable there.‭”

“Yes,‭ ‬let‭’‬s,‭”‬ he answered,‭ ‬trying to sound like he maintained some sort of authority,‭ “‬I‭’‬m sure we will.‭”

He looked over into the living room and saw,‭ ‬what was it‭? ‬A divan,‭ ‬a sofa,‭ ‬a couch‭?

“Damn,‭”‬ he thought,‭ ‬with a weak kind of masculine resignation,‭ “‬It looks like some kind of love-seat to me.‭”

Hand in hand the lady and gentleman walked into the living room and got extremely comfortable.

Desert before dinner may not be proper but stimulates the appetite and so much more.‭ ‬I recommend it without hesitation.‭ ‬Whoever thought seduction was only a man‭’‬s game didn‭’‬t know the rules.‭ ‬It was never a gender-specific sport.‭ ‬Anyone can play.