them.
"They aren't in wearable shape. Oops. Did you get gravy on this one? or chocolate?"
"Spaghetti sauce," Keith said. "And it was rather the other way around." A very embarrassing moment.
"You don't really wear them this narrow do you?" she asked about the second.
"Did at fifteen."
She shook the dust off the last one, and was instantly sorry.
"Don't tell me that you wore this at fifteen; why did your mother let you?"
Now *that* memory was a winner. "Well, it's like this. George and I were working back office together, right out of college. (I've told you about George haven't I?)"
She shuddered to communicate how much he had told her about George.
"Anyway..." he continued. He could never get across to her what a really fun guy George had been; you really had to have been there. "Anyway, the guys there had been wearing more and more revolting shades of green on St. Patrick's day."
"I hate to tell break this to you, Keith, but this tie is not green." Revolting, yes.
"And I'm not Catholic, and neither is George. So he got these sewn up and we both wore them on St. Paddy's. We were a great success. But George was fired a few months later for a practical joke which the boss took the wrong way. So I wore a black tie the next year."
"He got two ties *made* special so you could look horrible?" Was she still certain that she wanted to move in with this man?
"Well, sure. Not even you could look good in that necktie."
"Okay," she said, though her mind was already rising to the challenge. "Do you have a vacuum cleaner, or do you just rent one when the occasion arises?"
She cleaned the spaces assigned to her before risking any of her clothes to them, and it was late when she had finally finished the move.
"Why don't you send out for something?" she said. "I need a long shower."
He probably needed a shower much more than she did. After all, he'd carried the suitcases and boxes up three flights of stairs, she'd only wiped out and put away. On the other hand, picturing her in the shower was worth the wait.
She took her time in the shower. She turned off only the hot water, however, when she stepped out. Dried, hair fluffed, carefully made up, diaphragm inserted, she experimented with the ties she had found.
He ordered from the Chinese take-out, but the shower was still running when the food got there. So was the movie in his mind, though he had to run his image through the entire washing procedure three times to match the time she took. He knocked on the door to tell her that dinner was ready. She came out in a disappointingly opaque robe which covered her completely. But, as she reached and relaxed during the meal, it spread wider and wider.
Keith, who had seen her naked breasts scores of times, took more and more peeks as the dinner wore on. For the first time in their relationship, she got more sweet and sour shrimp than he. "I'll clean up," she offered. Their glasses, their mugs, and four serving spoons needed washing; two boxes needed refrigeration. Everything else was for the garbage. "Why don't you take your shower now?"
Of course she'd clean up. She wasn't a guest, she lived here now. But he did need a shower. He took a fast one, fearing that the hot water hadn't recovered from her use.
She'd planned on arousing him, but was finding that her preparations, combined with the anticipation of his reaction, were getting her wetter and wetter. Her first night in this apartment, well her first night as a resident here, promised to be a hot one. Good. She wanted to start the new level of relationship off with a bang.
He was in bed when she came in.
He watched her take off the robe until it was draped from one arm and covering her from the lowest ribs down. The effect was a strip show, even sexier because she seemed unconscious of the effect. Her breast was almost hidden by her arm in the beginning, showing only the perky nipple poking out from the pale pink areola. It slowly emerged as she turned, revealing the soft curve of its underside. Finally, its mate came into sight, turning a luscious pear into a perfect pair. Already a little hard in anticipation of her presence in his bed, he firmed more. When she was three quarters front-on, she looked at his face.
"Like what you see?" she asked.
"And how!" He felt like whistling.
"Still like what you see?" Still giving him a three-quarter view, she slowly dropped the robe. Then she turned to face him.
He did whistle. She had turned the tie into a breechcloth. Dangling from a dark band around her waist, a patch of orange covered the space where her legs met. Concealing the area, it enhanced the mystery; swinging free, it implied access. He turned on his side so that his erection wouldn't tent the sheet.
"Then take it back," she said in her coldest tone.
Take what back? The tie?
If you enjoyed this sample then look for Moving Experience.
Also by this Author:
"Private" Secretary Secrets
Moving Experience
About the Author
Uther Pendragon has a penchant for lucid encounters with smart, sexy women. He's picky even during his fantasies. He loves women in submission. He believes that a submissive woman makes any man feel powerful and powerless both at the very same time.
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Uther Pendragon
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Spring Equinox Page 4
