I head back to open a bottle and she joins me for dinner. She is wearing a silky and laced top and short set of PJs, very loose fitting and billowy, but where it touched her body, it clung and revealed every curve. I could see the outline of side of her breast, and detecting where her nipples were was not a Holmesian task. It wasn’t outrageously skimpy or a ‘come hither’ outfit, just a nice girl next door being too pretty and innocent to notice that it might have been somewhat inappropriate for a dinner at home. I would have preferred one way or the other instead of this middle route of dressing revealingly but not ‘sexy’ so I could get a hint of where her mind was this evening in regards to that note. No such luck for this guy! I look up, “Dinner’s read…uh, well, Paula, when I said ‘comfy clothes’, you took me literally, eh?” as if I hadn’t noticed her outfit until that moment. I don’t know if she bought it or not. Doubt it.
She smiles, and did a little twirl, the top flared a bit out, revealing a bit of her taut, young midsection, as well, as letting me see that how it looked from behind. (It looked good, btw!)
“You like it? I just picked it out this past weekend!”
“It looks great! Very catchy,” I manage to stammer out. “Let’s eat!” as I turn away to avoid getting caught gawking too low or too long.
Dinner passes uneventfully. We chat about things – the storm that may or may not hit us, how everyone in town freaks out whenever they announce 1″ of snow as if we are all going to be without for weeks, how work is going, the bitch at her office who hates her (for NO reason!), who she ran into at the mall, and UGH, the parking and crowds! We finished up, and I told her to go pick us a movie, and I’ll do dishes and refresh our glasses. She bounds off, no young person likes cleaning up!
I rinse everything off, start the dishwasher as a tidy up the cooking area, and refresh our glasses before heading in.
“What did you pick us out?”, I ask. Some thriller suspense thing she said.
“Who’s in it?”, I ask.
“Not sure, I heard it was good, though!” she replied.
“OK, whatever. Scoot over,” I say as I hand her the wine. I deliberately sat in the same place I had before when I had given her the rubdown and we had had that first contact. I was hoping that it would send the signal that either I wanted to, or was OK with, something like that happening again. Perhaps I was giving her the option to repeat the same situation, or if it really had just been an encounter that had been more about a vulnerable, physical moment on her part, or was the prelude to something more intimate.
She smiled slightly, sort of mischievously. “OK, jerk. I was comfortable!”
She slides over a bit and takes a sip of wine. She starts the movie and we sit for a bit, waiting for the credits to stop and the movie to start. I can barely breathe, and am so tense with fear, anticipation, doubts, excitement. I really was on a roller coaster of emotion, and my body was physically reacting, or possibly overreacting to the thoughts in my brain that just won’t stop.