tagLetters & TranscriptsBlind Date Ch. 03

Blind Date Ch. 03

byLady Starlight©

This bit of my love story is a collaborative effort between myself (just a little bit) and straystorywriter, a man who till now was simply a 'lurker' in literotica, so sure he couldn't write anything more 3 disjointed sentences. You can see here how wrong he is. Enjoy!

*****

It was Eashwar on the phone again. He was coming into Mumbai tomorrow, and wanted to know if we could meet for a little while.

I smiled as I thought about him.

It had been almost a year since the day we met in a coffee shop in Bangalore; how much things had changed since then. I still remembered the way he spooned chocolate cake into his mouth, and the way my eyes followed his fingers as they pressed crumbs into the plate and then moved to his mouth as he licked the last of the chocolate from his fingers. It didn't take too much thinking for me to say yes when he invited me home, and later that night a cancelled flight and one drink too many saw us become lovers.

It was good then, and it still is now. The first time was so special, in ways I didn't even dream it would be. Eashwar was always a sensualist...

I opened the mail he had sent me earlier this morning. He had written this for me before we met. I didn't know about it then.

hi

nothing.

just writing. just like that.

thought a bit of stream-o-consciousness would do me a spot of good. maybe i'm a bit nervous about sending you my picture. a first for me.
(he never did send it)

so.

like that.

finished work. just hanging around in the office to hear your reaction. though i'd much rather hear it in your voice. that hot, husky, deep, dripping voice of yours.

now forgive me but i'm probably going to be a bit inappropriate in this mail.

so if you don't want to hear it, stop reading now.

reader discretion is advised. strongly.

think before you scroll.

still here?

are you sure? maybe you want to wait for a few days/weeks/months/er... before...

you sexy, funny, silly, talented, gorgeous woman. i have the hots for you.

but you know that already. the whole package. the voice, the looks (yes), the humour, the details, i can see them in my mind. mint green panties, sheer lace bra and of course the deadly name.
(at that point in our relationship he knew only my oh so South Indian and terribly old fashioned middle name; nobody in my 'real' life called me that!)

i dream about you. where we are both at a party...in one of those beautiful Bangalore bungalows. we are introduced casually, by common friends. we chat a bit...move on...mingle... as the evening progresses we steal glances at each other. every once in a while as we circulate we bump into each other...i watch you talk. sometimes you laugh. that mouth. aah

you're in a black saree. im in jeans white shirt, linen jacket.

there's a makeshift dance floor in a room upstairs. dark, sparsely populated. im dancing with somebody. there's plenty of noise. laughter. i notice you dancing with someone as well. eyes meet. smiles exchanged. at some point i bump into you at the mini bar in the one corner of the dance floor. we smile at each other. still no words spoken. we wander back on to the floor together.

it's dark. some foot stomping music plays. maybe its Thorogood. we dance. we brush against each other occasionally. an arm, a leg...and occasionally your breasts brush against me.

the music changes. suddenly it's slow. we look at each other, you smile, i reach out.

and then we're politely slow dancing. i love the feel of you in my arms. i have a hand on your bare waist. i feel you stepping closer. more body contact. warm. we move together and are soon in the corner of the room. at some point, when your back is to the wall, hidden from sight, i drop my hand real low on your waist. i feel the gentle curve of your butt under the saree. we dance. you're looking at me now. i feel the slight shift of your body. you're pressing against me closer now. i feel your breasts against me.

me

aroused.

erect.

painfully confined.

i know you can feel me against your belly -- at my touch your gaze shifts to my lips. emboldened now.. my hand slips lower...sliding over your butt-cheek. i hear your breath catch. i savour the feeling of flesh under fabric. almost feel the warmth under my palm. i cup and squeeze gently.

you exhale.

i throb.

my hands slip back up to a more respectable place on your waist. you exhale. you're leading us now. positions are shifted. i have my back to the wall. you have yours to the other dancers. looking into my eyes...you come even closer...your body rubbing purposefully against my crotch... your lips part... your tongue snakes out.

for what seems to me an eternity, your tongue slithers over my still closed lips. wetly. sensuously. just once. from the left corner of my mouth to the right.

the song is over.

"follow me"

we disengage and i walk away...you pause to pick up your drink.

i walk through the house.. find a staircase that leads to the terrace. i take it. you follow. at a distance. two flights of stairs and i come to a door.

i hear your footsteps behind me. unlatch the door and step out. cold Bangalore winter does nothing to the heat i feel inside me. i step out. turn around to see you coming up the stairs.

you walk straight up to me. sipping the last of your drink.

no pause. you drop your glass. it shatters on the tile. you come into my arms. so natural.

press your lips against mine.

mouths open .

i feel liquid pouring out of your mouth into mine.

and your tongue.

hot. and cold. wet and hard.

phew.

just got your msg.

am hoping you'll log on.

more in a bit.

need a smoke.


I smiled; Eashwar was like that. Impulsive and quite, quite, sexy. I continued to read even as the words from our telephone conversation played over and over in my mind. It was time for a change in our relationship, and the change had to marked by something extra special.

I logged out and turned my computer off. An idea was starting to form in my mind. I needed to prepare.

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