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Saturday morning was a fairly typical sunny and cool September day. I had stayed in bed until after 8am, which was late for me, but I admit I was also delaying leaving the sanctuary of the guest bedroom. I was worried about seeing Liane again. What if she regretted the events of last night? I wasn’t so concerned about Matt’s reaction. I knew him well enough to know he would have taken it in his stride. I was actually dying to talk to him alone about how Liane had felt.
Taking my courage in my hands, I stepped out of the room. I was still wearing the black cotton camisole and shorts I had slept in. My hair was a messy tangle of auburn curls, coming loose from my braid and hanging to midway down my back. I was also still wearing my glasses, not having bothered with my contacts yet.
I ventured barefoot into the kitchen. I thought I could smell coffee brewing, so at least someone was up and about. Sure enough, Liane was there, still in her nightclothes, which consisted of an oversized white t-shirt and probably nothing underneath. I let my mind skim over that part.
“Good morning,” I said, stepping into the room and trying to put a normal smile on my face.
“Good morning, Kate” she replied. “Are…how…um…did you sleep well?” she continued, stammering slightly and turning a very bright red.
She was standing at the kitchen counter, her blonde hair still tousled from sleep, and looking – well – lovely. Did I actually think she seemed prettier this morning, now that I’d experienced her up close and personal the night before? Whether or not that made sense, it seemed to be true. Her features were delicate and I noticed a faint dusting of freckles across her cheeks that I hadn’t noticed before. Her bare legs were pale, as was the rest of her. I was reminded of how soft they had felt and how I had enjoyed running my hands over them and licking up her inner thighs…
Concentrate, I thought to myself. Sometimes orgasms are like chips: once you have one, you want to have another, and another, until you work your way through the entire bowl. Of course, once my mind started down that road, I was reminded of the tangy and slightly salty taste of her, which certainly did nothing for my conversational skills this morning. What had her question been?
“Very well, thanks,” I told her, rallying my wits. She was stirring some milk into her coffee and turned back towards me as I spoke. Then, since approaching things directly was my nature, I blurted out, “Are you okay? I mean – I hope you’re not having any regrets. It was fun – I know I enjoyed it and…I hope you did too,” I finished. Rather lamely, I thought. Oh God.
My gaze dropped to her breasts where I could see her erect nipples under the t-shirt. Had they been that way when I first entered the kitchen? Was she becoming as aroused as I was, just remembering last night? I realised I had licked my lips, thinking about her breasts and I forced myself to stay calm and as normal as possible given the situation.