“Seriously, though. As I’ve mentioned, I have no experience with this stuff,” he said. “How does this work? What if we were doing this…not backward? What would happen next?”
“Well, I suppose there would be another date, and another after that,” I admitted, smiling shyly.
“And bases. I’d be expected to try to round some bases, right?” he asked seriously.
I spluttered my wine. “Bases? Are you for real? As in, cop a feel, over the shirt, under the shirt, those bases?” I laughed incredulously.
“Yes, exactly. What am I allowed to get away with? As a gentleman, I mean. If this were truly a first date, we wouldn’t be going home together, would we? Dating now, not hooking up. Remember, apparently I give good woo,” he said, eyes twinkling.
“Yes, yes, you do. We wouldn’t be going home together, that’s true. But to be honest, I don’t want you sleeping in the bedroom down the hall. Is that weird?” I could feel my ears burning as I blushed.
“It’s not weird,” he answered quietly. I slipped off my sandal and pressed my foot against his, rubbing lightly along his leg.
“Nooking is good, right?”
“Nooking is most definitely good,” he agreed, nudging back with his own foot.
“As far as your bases are concerned, I think you could definitely plan on a little under the shirt action, if you were so inclined,” I answered. Internally, Brain and Backbone gave a little cheer, while LC and Wang kicked a few chairs. Tatas were just glad someone was considering them for once, instead of being just a stopover on the way to points south. Heart? Well, she was still flitting about, singing her song.
“So, we go a little traditional, but not totally traditional. Take it slow?” he asked, his eyes burning, the sapphires beginning to do their little hypnotic dance.
“Slow, but not too slow. We are grownups, for goodness sake.”
“To under the shirt action,” he announced, raising his glass in toast.
“I’ll drink to that.” I laughed as we clinked.
Fifty-seven minutes later we were in bed, his hands warm and sure as he slipped each button through, revealing my skin. He went slowly, purposefully, and he let my shirt fall open as I lay beneath him. He gazed down at me, his fingertips lightly drawing a line from my collarbone to my navel, straight and true. We both sighed at the same time.
I can’t explain it, but knowing we’d set some boundaries for the evening, silly as it may be, made it so much more sensual, something to be truly savored. His lips hovered around my neck, whispering tiny kisses against my skin, below my ear, under my chin, in the dip between my neck and my shoulder, and working his way down to the swell of my br**sts. His fingers swept out, lightly, reverently, ghosting across the sensitive skin as I inhaled and then held my breath.
As his fingers gently grazed my nipple, every nerve ending in my entire body reversed and began to pulse in that direction. I exhaled, feeling months of tension begin to simultaneously flow out of me and build up even more. With sweet kisses and soft touches, he began the process of getting to know my body, and it was exactly what I needed. Lips, mouth, tongue—all of it on me, tasting, stroking, feeling, and loving.
As his lips closed around my breast, his hair tickled my chin in the cutest way, and I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close. The feeling of his skin against mine was perfection, and something I’d never experienced before. I felt…worshipped.
As we explored that night, what started out as funny and cute and part of our classic banter became something more. What was crassly called “under the shirt action” became part of a romance, and something that could have been merely physical became something emotional and pure. And when he cradled me to him, bringing me into his nook with tender kisses and breathless giggles, we fell into a contented sleep.
Flaily and Mr. Snorey Pants.
For the next two days, I luxuriated. Truly, there isn’t another word in the English language to articulate the experience I indulged in. Now for some, the definition of a luxurious vacation might be endless shopping, spa pampering, expensive meals, elaborate shows. But to me, luxurious meant spending two hours napping in the sun on the terrace off the kitchen. Luxurious meant eating figs dripping with honey and dotted with crumbles of local cheese while Simon poured me another glass of Cava, all before ten a.m. Luxurious meant time alone to wander through the small, family stores of Nerja, poking through bins of beautiful lace. Luxurious meant exploring the nearby caves with Simon while he photographed, losing ourselves in the colors under the earth. Luxurious meant gazing at Simon dangling from a rock face while he searched out another foothold, shirtless. Did I mention shirtless?
And luxurious most certainly meant that I got to spend each night in that bed with Simon. Now that’s a priceless luxury, not offered on every grand tour. We rounded another base or two, teasing each other with a little over-the-panties encounter. Were we being ridiculous, waiting until the last night in Spain to consummate this “thing”? Probably, but who the hell cared? He spent almost an hour kissing every inch of my legs one night, and I spent about the same amount of time having a conversation with his belly button. We just…enjoyed.
But with all this enjoyment came a certain amount of, well, how shall we say, nervous energy?
Back in San Francisco, we’d spent months engaged in verbal foreplay. But now, here? The actual foreplay? It was not to be believed. My body was so in tune with his, I knew when he walked into the room, and I knew when he was about to touch me, seconds before he did. The air between us was sexually charged, vibes zinging back and forth with enough energy to light up the entire town. Sexual chemistry? Had it. Sexual frustration? On the rise and getting close to critical.
Oh, hell, I’ll say it. I was H-O-R-N-Y.
Which was why after we spent the afternoon in the caves, we found ourselves in the kitchen, kissing madly. We were both a little tired from the day, and I’d been wanting to test out that beautiful Viking range. I was preparing vegetables for the grill and stirring some saffron rice when he came in after a shower. It’s almost impossible for me to explain the sight of him: worn white T-shirt, faded jeans, barefoot, scrubbing at his wet hair with a towel. He grinned, and I began to see double. I literally couldn’t see through the haze of lust and need I suddenly felt surge through me. I needed my hands to be on his body, and I needed it to happen immediately.
“Mmm, something smells good. Want me to get the grill started?” he asked, walking over to where I was chopping vegetables at the counter. He stood behind me, his body only inches from mine, and something snapped. And it wasn’t just the pea pod I was holding…
“Well, I suppose there would be another date, and another after that,” I admitted, smiling shyly.
“And bases. I’d be expected to try to round some bases, right?” he asked seriously.
I spluttered my wine. “Bases? Are you for real? As in, cop a feel, over the shirt, under the shirt, those bases?” I laughed incredulously.
“Yes, exactly. What am I allowed to get away with? As a gentleman, I mean. If this were truly a first date, we wouldn’t be going home together, would we? Dating now, not hooking up. Remember, apparently I give good woo,” he said, eyes twinkling.
“Yes, yes, you do. We wouldn’t be going home together, that’s true. But to be honest, I don’t want you sleeping in the bedroom down the hall. Is that weird?” I could feel my ears burning as I blushed.
“It’s not weird,” he answered quietly. I slipped off my sandal and pressed my foot against his, rubbing lightly along his leg.
“Nooking is good, right?”
“Nooking is most definitely good,” he agreed, nudging back with his own foot.
“As far as your bases are concerned, I think you could definitely plan on a little under the shirt action, if you were so inclined,” I answered. Internally, Brain and Backbone gave a little cheer, while LC and Wang kicked a few chairs. Tatas were just glad someone was considering them for once, instead of being just a stopover on the way to points south. Heart? Well, she was still flitting about, singing her song.
“So, we go a little traditional, but not totally traditional. Take it slow?” he asked, his eyes burning, the sapphires beginning to do their little hypnotic dance.
“Slow, but not too slow. We are grownups, for goodness sake.”
“To under the shirt action,” he announced, raising his glass in toast.
“I’ll drink to that.” I laughed as we clinked.
Fifty-seven minutes later we were in bed, his hands warm and sure as he slipped each button through, revealing my skin. He went slowly, purposefully, and he let my shirt fall open as I lay beneath him. He gazed down at me, his fingertips lightly drawing a line from my collarbone to my navel, straight and true. We both sighed at the same time.
I can’t explain it, but knowing we’d set some boundaries for the evening, silly as it may be, made it so much more sensual, something to be truly savored. His lips hovered around my neck, whispering tiny kisses against my skin, below my ear, under my chin, in the dip between my neck and my shoulder, and working his way down to the swell of my br**sts. His fingers swept out, lightly, reverently, ghosting across the sensitive skin as I inhaled and then held my breath.
As his fingers gently grazed my nipple, every nerve ending in my entire body reversed and began to pulse in that direction. I exhaled, feeling months of tension begin to simultaneously flow out of me and build up even more. With sweet kisses and soft touches, he began the process of getting to know my body, and it was exactly what I needed. Lips, mouth, tongue—all of it on me, tasting, stroking, feeling, and loving.
As his lips closed around my breast, his hair tickled my chin in the cutest way, and I wrapped my arms around him, holding him close. The feeling of his skin against mine was perfection, and something I’d never experienced before. I felt…worshipped.
As we explored that night, what started out as funny and cute and part of our classic banter became something more. What was crassly called “under the shirt action” became part of a romance, and something that could have been merely physical became something emotional and pure. And when he cradled me to him, bringing me into his nook with tender kisses and breathless giggles, we fell into a contented sleep.
Flaily and Mr. Snorey Pants.
For the next two days, I luxuriated. Truly, there isn’t another word in the English language to articulate the experience I indulged in. Now for some, the definition of a luxurious vacation might be endless shopping, spa pampering, expensive meals, elaborate shows. But to me, luxurious meant spending two hours napping in the sun on the terrace off the kitchen. Luxurious meant eating figs dripping with honey and dotted with crumbles of local cheese while Simon poured me another glass of Cava, all before ten a.m. Luxurious meant time alone to wander through the small, family stores of Nerja, poking through bins of beautiful lace. Luxurious meant exploring the nearby caves with Simon while he photographed, losing ourselves in the colors under the earth. Luxurious meant gazing at Simon dangling from a rock face while he searched out another foothold, shirtless. Did I mention shirtless?
And luxurious most certainly meant that I got to spend each night in that bed with Simon. Now that’s a priceless luxury, not offered on every grand tour. We rounded another base or two, teasing each other with a little over-the-panties encounter. Were we being ridiculous, waiting until the last night in Spain to consummate this “thing”? Probably, but who the hell cared? He spent almost an hour kissing every inch of my legs one night, and I spent about the same amount of time having a conversation with his belly button. We just…enjoyed.
But with all this enjoyment came a certain amount of, well, how shall we say, nervous energy?
Back in San Francisco, we’d spent months engaged in verbal foreplay. But now, here? The actual foreplay? It was not to be believed. My body was so in tune with his, I knew when he walked into the room, and I knew when he was about to touch me, seconds before he did. The air between us was sexually charged, vibes zinging back and forth with enough energy to light up the entire town. Sexual chemistry? Had it. Sexual frustration? On the rise and getting close to critical.
Oh, hell, I’ll say it. I was H-O-R-N-Y.
Which was why after we spent the afternoon in the caves, we found ourselves in the kitchen, kissing madly. We were both a little tired from the day, and I’d been wanting to test out that beautiful Viking range. I was preparing vegetables for the grill and stirring some saffron rice when he came in after a shower. It’s almost impossible for me to explain the sight of him: worn white T-shirt, faded jeans, barefoot, scrubbing at his wet hair with a towel. He grinned, and I began to see double. I literally couldn’t see through the haze of lust and need I suddenly felt surge through me. I needed my hands to be on his body, and I needed it to happen immediately.
“Mmm, something smells good. Want me to get the grill started?” he asked, walking over to where I was chopping vegetables at the counter. He stood behind me, his body only inches from mine, and something snapped. And it wasn’t just the pea pod I was holding…
