Accidental Meeting

"Well" she said. "Not quite the drowned rat I knew from earlier." But she was smiling, so there was no hidden bite to the comment. "How do you like it?" He looked across the centrally placed island.

"Hot and strong" he replied, knowing full well that there was a double-entendre in the reply, and, that she caught it also. This could be fun! She ushered him back into the lounge area with its recessed floor and deep seating, into which he almost sank as he sat down, it was so soft. She placed the tray on to the low table in front of them, and turning, brought a phone to him. It had been concealed in one of the arms of the huge u-shaped sofa. "Maybe you'd better call a cab so that you can get home tonight?"

His heart fell; he couldn't explain why, but suddenly, something intangible just slipped away. "Yes" he muttered, looking at his watch. Christ! 10:30 already. Jenny would be beside herself. Oh Shit! Which to call first?

He tried a cab company. No luck. After three tries to different companies, the answer was obvious. Nobody was out tonight! With drifts reported up to eight feet in some areas of the City, and most roads now impassable, he was plain out of luck. Sandy said nothing as she sipped her coffee, and heard his mounting frustration grow with each call. Damn and Blast! Finally, he called his apartment. Jenny answered at the first ring.

"Where the hell have you been?" she bleated into the phone not giving him the opportunity to explain. "I'm out of my mind with worry. Why do you do this to me?"

"Oh Jesus, Jenny. I've had a small accident in the snow, and I can't get a god-damned cab. So, you'll just have to wait 'til I get there" -- he paused, waiting to send in the barbs that he felt brewing in his heart... "and that may not be tonight!"

"Well, where are you now?" came the demand down the line. He paused, suddenly not wanting to say where he was.

I'm, er, I'm in a coffee shop, and I'll try one of the local hotels for a room. Look," he said in a slightly calmer tone trying to appease her concerns, "Look, you go to bed and I'll call you in the morning, when I know what the hell I'm doing, okay?" She mumbled something into the phone and then hung up, with no Goodbye, or anything. He almost banged the phone down, but realized it wasn't his to destroy! He looked up, seeing Sandy with a slight smile on her face.

"Hmmm. Not a good reception then? Wifey a bit mad?". He relaxed and told her "No, it wasn't a 'wifey' but that his room-mate -- he hated the euphemism -- was, well, she was giving him a bit of a hard time..." And, then it all came out. Even as he talked he wondered why the hell he was unburdening on this girl, this stranger. Why did he suddenly feel compelled to let her know that he was trying to get free of Jenny. Why his day -- his whole damned week! -- had been screwed up. He found himself rambling about his clients, and this one in particular who had caused him so much trouble with the re-makes of the commercial. She simply listened as he unloaded, stooping to pour him a second cup of the coffee, while he rambled on....to a stumbling stop. He looked at his watch. Jesus! Forty minutes had gone by.

"Christ, I'm sorry. I've been prattling away, and, well, I didn't mean to dump on you." He thought more. "Were you going somewhere when we, er, met?" She smiled a thin smile.

"Yes. I was on my way to tell my unfaithful lover that we were through!" She paused, her eyes downcast. "You see, I now think he was after me for my money, and I learned today that he'd been caught in an hotel a couple of days ago, with a girl-friend of mine. He didn't know that my Father owned the hotel, and well, daddy saw them, checked it out, and learned that Ben had been shacked up with Sherry for over three days, when he'd told me that he was on assignment for the paper; he works for the Tribune, and Sherry's one of the P.R. girls..." Her eyes flicked down again, and he saw tears welling there. "I really thought he loved me, but, well, I guess it's the poor little rich-girl syndrome coming through again." She added some venom to her voice.

"The bastard was stupid enough to try and bluff his way past daddy, and then hope that nothing would be said. Daddy called me from the plane on the way to a meeting, and he was fuming, but I told him I'd handle it, and he was not to worry any more." Again, she looked down at the carpet, and he felt slightly embarrassed.

"Hey" he said, very softly. "I'm sorry. These things happen. I've got similar troubles -- although I don't think Jenny's screwing around. It's just that, well, I've been working really long hours, and we're under such pressure from this one client, that I've not had the time -- or the desire -- to attend to her needs, and we're really incompatible; it's simply that, after my wife divorced me -- she ran off with the tennis instructor" -- to which Sandy smiled -- he paused, "I know, that sounds like a bad Hollywood movie script -- Jenny bounced into my life and almost took over, and, well I guess I was happy to be controlled for a time." He paused again as she brushed a tear from her left eye.

"It's the classic case of 'from the frying pan into the fire'... He shrugged. "I always seem to be apologizing." His words faltered as he looked at her. "You know, this sounds trite, but Ben must be an asshole for cheating on you!" He paused as she reddened slightly, and he thought he'd gone too far.

"Listen, I'd better try and get some transport out of here. You're not going out now, are you?" His concern was for her welfare now, knowing that the snow would be really deep, and driving, in whatever form, somewhat treacherous. She stood, and walked to the windows, pulling aside a drape and peering through the windows.

"No," she said almost resignedly. "I guess I'll wait until tomorrow. This evening's been dramatic enough for me." He pulled himself out of the sofa and walked around to the window where she stood. Peering where she looked, he couldn't see a thing. She said "The snow's really coming down. You'll have a helluva job getting out of here. Would you like me to get George to see if he can arrange some transport?"

Alex stopped his thoughts where they were. His hand held the drape wider and again, he peered out, but the snow blowing against the panes was blinding. The tune 'Baby, it's cold outside' drifted into his head, and he smiled slightly. She caught this, and raising an eyebrow said "Okay, what's the thought?" "Oh, it's just an old song about getting stuck in the snow, and she has to leave but..." -- he broke into the tune 'ahh, but it's cold outside'... Neither wants to be alone or out in the bad weather."

She looked up into his eyes, taking a minute to assess this man, this stranger, who suddenly exuded an aura of sexuality that she recognized instantly. She stepped back in shock, as if she'd been pushed, knocking her leg against the coffee table and almost falling, but he caught her quickly by the right arm, pulling her back to vertical instantly, and against his chest. They both stood for seconds in that pose, and she couldn't move. He continued to look down into her eyes, noticing that the light blue was now a pale gray, and giving out a message that he couldn't fail to understand. Slowly, he bent to kiss her.

He half expected that she'd struggle, or even draw back and smack him, but neither happened. A stiffening of her body gave way to a release against him as his mouth covered hers. Opening his eyes a fraction, he noted that she had hers closed, and, as he savored the freshness of her, he became aware that not only was she receptive, but that she was, very slightly, pushing against him, a feeling growing stronger as the seconds passed. He pulled back from her, and she fell into the space he created, leaning towards his chest. Opening her eyes, she looked back at him, before straightening up.

"Well" she said, matter-of-factly, but somewhat huskily. "I didn't expect that!" She pulled her leg up, and massaged the calf where she'd banged it seconds before. But, she didn't let go of his arm. Didn't pull away. Didn't berate him -- 'who the hell was he to come in here and take advantage of her friendship!' No. It was all very civilized, and he became confused by her non-action.

Still expecting a slap, he flinched as she pulled her arm from his. She stepped back, but looked at him with the merest flicker of a smile. "It's okay, I'm not going to scream" she said. "In fact, that was rather nice. I haven't been kissed like that in many a day" -- and then, rather bitterly -- "in fact it's been a damned long time since I've been kissed at all, other than when my Father goes traveling!"

Alex paused, not knowing which way to handle the situation, but aware that he too, hadn't kissed anybody "in the heat of passion" recently, and his groin was stirring, reminding him of this fact. "I'm sorry" he said; "I didn't mean to over-step the mark but you were, well, looking, how can I say" -- he paused again, studying her face and how she might react to the comments on his lips -- "but you were very vulnerable, and I wanted to kiss the sadness away." They stood for a few seconds, and then she moved into his space, coming close to his chest again, so that he could now smell the aura of her presence. She held his arm again.

"That's okay" she said. "Don't apologize. I liked it. If we have to meet by accident..." she accentuated the last word, "then maybe we should take advantage of the situation. Would you kiss me again, to reassure me that I liked it?"

He smiled at her, this time a warming, beaming smile that stirred her blood. He went to speak, but only croaked out the sounds "I'd love to" because his voice too, became husky at the feel of her in his arms.

She moved, putting her arms around his neck, and they kissed lightly, until their bodies began to wake up with the flames of lust that they engendered. He moved his lips around her face, and she turned her face to alternate her closeness to him. Issuing a slight moan from her throat, she rubbed against him, very gently, feeling him grow at her groin, and knowing that this could be dangerous. She threw caution to the winds and pressed her lips against him, inserting her tongue quickly, in small darting movements, tasting him as he opened up to accept her; his lips held her tongue very lightly as they melded together, not wanting to release her, as if he could capture her by this very act.

He had been holding her around the waist as their passion ignited, but, without thinking -- it being a perfectly natural thing to do -- he brought his left hand up to caress her right breast through the tight sweater. The softness, enveloped in a satin bra, became harder as his fingers brushed lightly across her nipple. Her left hand, which had been stroking the back of his neck, suddenly tightened as the eroticism of his touch brought her sexuality awake. She breathed in his ear, a soft mewing sound that only increased his own sexual urges and he pressed his lips against hers, as they continued to kiss, now much stronger, more urgent, more deeply. She wanted more. She sensed herself losing control; the shock of the evening's accident, her fright, had completely dissipated, to be replaced by a growing fire in her that -- although she'd never done anything like this before -- she knew it was right!

This stranger - and he was a stranger -- was somewhat like her, lost and alone, and in need of comfort. Her own needs became important to her, and then this over-riding thought made her start to think rationally for a moment. WHO was this guy? What if he hurt her or worse, maybe rob and kill her. She was alone here and what the hell was she doing?

But he had, by now, in these seconds, begun to kiss her neck; both his hands now caressing her breasts, bringing the nipples to a hardness that almost hurt. Slowly his right hand ventured up around the edges of the sweater, lifting it, so that he could caress her skin as he moved his hand to her left breast. She was losing herself again, her body reacting involuntarily to his attentions. She clung to him, both arms around his neck, her eyes flicking open to stare over his shoulder at, but not see, the Gauguin painting on the far wall, its hooded light lending a glow to the picture that resembled her own feelings, warm, and very fuzzy. She began to feel herself ready for him. Now, she just wanted sex!

He too, was lost, but now only in her. Her scent, her movements against him added a drive that he too was unable to control. His body took over, his mind not working apart from assessing the subtleties such as the smell of her hair, how long and soft it was. How she was obviously willing now as she pressed against him. How they were swaying against each other, as his legs trembled with the sudden acceleration of his sexual drive. As he lifted the sweater up, his fingers slid under the edging of the bra and he lifted the material away so that he could feel the delicious warmth and softness of her. Flipping the bra over her breast, the fullness almost fell into his hand, and his thumb automatically caressed the growing nipple, flicking it, rubbing it in small circular motions until it stood hard against his palm. She shuddered and pulled away.

Breathing hard, she stepped back from him, backing her legs up against the coffee table again. They were both trapped in the space between the table and the wall. She spoke softly, a lump in her throat and her voice husky with emotion. "Why don't you stay here, tonight?" A pause. "Unless you need to get home?" He responded by pulling back from her a little, his own breathing ragged from the desire that he felt.

"Would you like me to leave?" A simple statement, and she knew that this was the cross-roads he was offering; she could turn either way. His chest heaved beneath his shirt and she could detect a sheen of perspiration on his brow. "I'll try again, to call for another cab, if you..." But her finger was already on his lips, as she shook her head very slightly. No.

"I don't do this often" -- she paused, smiling. "In fact, I've never done this before. You're a complete stranger here, and yet..." Again, another pause; a moment in which they both understood. She pulled herself up, against him, to whisper in his ear. "Stay, make love to me. I could do with some friendship, and although I can't explain why you're here, you are here, and -- as you said earlier -- 'Baby it's cold outside!'

His laughter surrounded them, and breaking the seriousness they'd both felt just then, he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her to him. "I'd LOVE to stay the night! I'd also love to make love to you. He turned, grimacing at the windows hidden by the long drapes. "And, as you said, it's real cold out there!"

She broke away from him, pulling him by the hand. "When I'm cold, I usually like to take a long, hot shower, to get me ready for bed. What do you say?"...and she pulled him out of the lounge into a hallway, that -- it turned out -- led to her sumptuous bedroom suite. There were some stairs ahead of them, and, as she led the way up still holding his left hand, he couldn't resist touching the hem of her skirt, lifting it with his right hand to catch the soft skin of her leg. It was obvious they were going to make love, and he wanted now to abandon all thoughts of anything else in his mind. He would be here, for her and himself only!

She paused, not turning, as his right hand caressed her thigh from under the skirt. One leg raised on the higher step meant that he had access to the warmth that emanated from under her clothes, and his fingers pressed around her leg, until reaching up, he felt her buttock. No Panties? Letting go of her hand, he brought his left hand to match his right, raising her skirt fully up to the waist to see that she was wearing slim, bikini briefs. Smiling now, he moved to hold her by the waist, her flesh hot to his touch; she didn't move, her body trembling slightly in his hands.

Holding her tighter, so she wouldn't move, he knelt down on the stair, moving his face close to her skin. His tongue flicked out and licked her, just under the right buttock; she still didn't move, although he felt her stiffen under his tongue, the muscles contracting.

"We're not there, yet!" she said, but the sound was muted and slightly hoarse.

Between more licks, and mild nips to her skin to which she flinched, he replied, "No, but we're getting there!" As he expanded his kissing and licking of her backside, she responded automatically, moving herself back towards him, and impishly jiggling herself a little while she remained standing with one leg above the other on the stairs. Letting go of the skirt, his right hand moved between her legs and he inserted a finger under the rear of her panties, sliding up to her front, where he discovered just how ready she was! His finger slid, almost too easily, into her moistness and she flinched, arching her back as he boldly moved his hand and fingers to caress her sex.

She groaned, a throaty moaning, and he felt her right leg physically tremble as he -- ever so gently -- found her sexual center. She turned, her eyes glazed now, with a lust that was building up almost against her will as she reached backwards for his hair. She grabbed him with her right hand and pulled him upwards. "No more, now. Wait!" She giggled as he released the pressure on her sex and brought both hands to her backside. He pushed her gently ahead of him.

"Okay" he said. "Lead me on now, because if you don't, I'm going to take you right here on the stairs!" She looked at him over her shoulder and letting his hair go, she reached down to grasp his hand. Feeling the wetness on his finger, she purposely pulled him up beside her and placed the finger in her mouth, tasting her own sweetness. Her passion rose, and she now just wanted him. To feel him inside her. To have the satisfaction of close body contact. To have the release that only he could provide for her. Right now! They moved quickly to the top of the stairs, and she pulled him into her bedroom.

The room was dimly lit, pale rose-colored walls and drapes lending an intimacy to the scene that was like a movie set; she stopped, turned to the wall, adjusting some switches. Dim lights came on beside the bed, again in rose-colored shades. The main lights dimmed to almost nothing and soft music came through from hidden speakers, a lush orchestra enveloping them in a cocoon of soft waves and the distant, haunting sound from a clarinet.

She turned, and, closing the doors behind them, said "This is crazy, but I want you" and here she stressed the word "urgently." "But, I want for us to enjoy each other with care and affection. Will you shower with me, before we make love? I'd like to be, well..." she blushed slightly, lowering her head, at a loss for words. He rescued her before she could say anything else.

"I'd love a shower; it's been -- well, let's say a helluva day -- and I need to wash off the dirt, and the cold and the grime and...well, lose the outside world for tonight, if that's okay with you?" Nodding slightly, she turned and sat on the bed, holding out her right leg.

"Help me take off these boots then!" A fake petulance came through and they smiled as she flopped down, lying back across the bed, somewhat provocatively. He knelt and unzipped the inside of the boot, carefully pulling it off her. Reaching for the other leg, he repeated the movement, pushing both boots aside as he knelt there. She lay for a moment, and then, pushing up on her elbows, she stared at him, her breasts almost challenging him as she lay there. Her skirt was above her knees and instinctively, he placed both his hands on her inner thighs, under the hemline of the skirt. She looked at him again without speaking or moving to take his hands away. He leaned forward, pushing at the skirt until it was above her groin, folding up on itself, revealing the bright red panties that he'd only felt before. He smiled, but said nothing, simply leaning forward to hook his fingers under the thin panties.