How Was It?

"So, what was it like?"

"It was great! She introduced me to some wine at her place. We talked all through dinner. She insisted on picking up the check. We awkwardly flirted as we waited for the taxi. Once we got back to her place we got in the hot tub. I think we just chatted and flirted for over an hour before someone was brave enough to make the first move."

"Yeah, but what was IT like?"

What could I say? That I had rarely found myself so eager to drown in someone else's skin? That holding and touching her most intimate parts was like breathing again, or for the first time? That despite the fact that my unbridled desire to devour her made me sloppy and greedy, it seemed like every touch was perfect. Every scratch, every kiss brought a delicious moan to her lips that fueled every following action, until the night sky melted away and there was only this burning, driving force.

I loved her breasts and her thighs and her ass. I loved the little scars on her skin. I loved the way she giggled and reached for a smoke. And I loved watching her curl onto her side as she started to cum. I loved holding her, just holding her, as she fell asleep.

"It was like one of my best fantasies. Only, I didn't know it could be real."

Starting Now

I'm sitting here with my drink and my head is spinning. Not my drink, the drink she bought for me. The drink she got the moment mine was empty, popping out of her seat like a daisy and coming back twice a shy.

Her husband and my husband keep chatting. I think they're onto cars now. She looks at me with those Doe eyes framed by her blunt bangs and I feel myself melting.

We keep stumbling over our words. The band is loud and so we have to get closer to even hear each other. Why is the curve of her neck intoxicating?

I feel her hand on my knee and my skin starts to burn. I want to keep her hand there so I brush it with my fingers. Our hands intertwine as she starts stroking my knee with her other hand. But she looks down. Still so shy. A beautiful blush starting to creep across her cheeks.

I look across the table and see my husband looking at me. He smiles his genuine smile and I am amazed. He is happy. Not just turned on or lustful, but happy. He is happy that I am happy. And in this moment I think my heart will burst.

My gratitude and my love for my husband crashes against me. At the same moment longing for the shy beauty etches itself onto my skin with every touch of her fingertips, making the air tingle and my head whirl.

But it's getting late. Everyone has to go home. She types her number into my phone before linking arms with her husband and slipping through the door. I sit in my car, not sure if I'm more intoxicated by the whisky or her touch, and I wonder what just happened.