Joseph had never had a girlfriend before, let alone found
one willing to endure holding his sweaty hands with a shrug and smile, and so
he considered himself lucky when Daniella accepted his invitation to dinner a
second time. She showed up at his front door wearing an elegant dinner dress,
sparkling jewels running down the seams and threads to accentuate her own
winding curves, and a wide, if a bit shy, smile.
He moved
to give her a handshake, a move that turned awkward when she held out her arms expecting
a hug and then decided on a handshake as he held out arms. Blushing, he ended
up stepping aside to allow Daniella to enter.
He
couldn’t help but admire her beauty: her ass, for lack of a better and less
crude word, Joseph could see with each high-heeled step. She walked with a
wonderful and hypnotizing bounce that eventually led his eyes downward. Her
legs were short, but toned; muscular and dipped in a creamy white color.
Joseph
raised his eyes just as she turned back to him, expecting him to speak; he
stumbled over his words and blushed even more, but eventually he was able to
suggest they both sit down at his dining table.
The
conversation was smooth, much as it had been for the first two dates, and he
found himself gently releasing the butterflies fluttering about in his stomach.
She laughed, a sound that positively sent shivers up his spine, and he laughed,
and neither seemed to want the conversation to end.
And
their discussion, once a serious dialogue on the state of politics in
twenty-first America, turned into offers and acceptances of glasses of red wine.
He quickly grabbed the corkscrew and his aged bottle, offering a quick stir of
his bubbling Fettucine Alfredo sauce before he hurried back to her side.
Daniella
giggled some more at his haste, Joseph nearly tossing the bottle out the open
window when the carpet snagged his sneaker, and brushed back her brown hair.
They sipped and talked, laughed and met each other’s eyes more than once; the
night wore away, the stars peeking into view, and they just kept talking.
Long
enough for Joseph to smell the rancid smell of burning pasta and chicken.
He was
able to salvage some of the food and quickly ladled out what he had on his
expensive china.
They ate
with a sense of urgency, as though their bodies were aware of the mounting
electricity between them and eager to fulfill the night’s promises. The wine
they drained quickly and soon they had slipped to the couch together.
They
barely touched yet Joseph could nearly feel her press that beautiful body up
against his. And he could feel her breath on his face, the tender touch of her
fingers on his arms, as she inched closer. Or as he inched closer to her.
And they
were past the point of kissing, his hands fumbling for the zipper on her dress
and her fingers probing his buttoned-up shirt; she moaned, thrust her tongue
into his mouth. Her hands reached for his zipper and he allowed it, took her
hand in his to guide her. His hand went sliding up between her legs, parting
the smooth, warm skin-
-Joseph
swore heavily.
For the
fifth time that week he wished he’d bought the alarm clock with the snooze
button.
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