Breakfast of You

She is lying in bed, in that lovely, peaceful state - floating between no longer asleep, yet still not awake.

The mattress below, reassuringly firm, still yielding easily to her weight. Toasty warm, cocooned under the heavy quilt. Her head sinking into the soft embrace of the deep pillow and her blonde hair fanned out like a halo.

The linen was replaced only yesterday and so the memory of lovely crisp sheets was still lingering. The clean scent of fresh laundered clothes still hinted at.

As her thoughts become more lucid, more attuned to the present she rolls onto her back. Stretching out like a cat in the sunshine and bringing her hands to her belly. Gliding effortlessly across the sheets.

'That's right' she thinks, smiling indulgently. She remembers last night before going to bed putting on her special silk negligee. Not for show since she was happily alone. Simply for herself.

Deep, glossy red in colour it speaks of fresh pitchers of sangria on a tropical summer beach. Thin strings across the shoulders hold up the edges of a neckline that plunges down to the top of her cleavage. The fit, although not at all firm, is perfectly moulded to her figure. In this way ensuring that it always stays in the correct location, like a second skin. Flaring slightly past the hips and finishing far short of mid-thigh. A slit on one side reaches high up past her hip allowing free range of movement for her, as well as flashing glimpses of her entire leg as she takes each step. The total effect, she knew, was scandalous. Covering more of herself than many of the outfits she would occasionally wear in public, this hinted at so much more, being nothing short of erotic.

Stretching out like a cat, she leaves one leg straight and pulls one knee out to the side. A gentle tug against the soft flesh of her mound draws her attention between her legs. Reminding her of the other part of this outfit. Also red in colour, but so thin and sheer as to almost barely exist, the tiny scrap of material started low at the front, barely covering bare mound and wrapping around her soft lips before disappearing into a thin strip between her cheeks. Where most underwear was firm, stretching to conform to all the soft mounds and curves contained within, these are forgiving, readily yielding and almost without reinforcement to cause any discomfort. Staying in place purely through the curve of her hips and the hunger of the fabric to remain close to that which it loves so dear.

Squirming a little, rolling her hips and shoulders, she feels the negligee lightly kissing her small breasts. She feels herself responding, surprisingly quickly the tips of her sensitive breasts start to tighten.

She lazily trails the fingers of one hand up across her ribs. Over her breast and circling the ever-tightening points. Sending small shivers down inside of her, from her breasts, through her belly and into her abdomen where a knot of tension is starting to form. At last, running the tips of her fingers over her nipples, gasping out loud at the shock of pleasure as she pinches them between thumb and finger.

Tracing her other hand across her flat stomach, down across her hip and to the inside of her thigh. Then back up, under the silk dress to trace the outline of her puss. She feels the heat there as she rolls her hand in slow circles. Her fingertips gently pushing into her slit, soaking the material in her gathering juices.

Her thoughts lazily drift to who's hand she would enjoy replacing hers right now. Almost with a start the face of her neighbour comes to her.

Some years older than her, maybe late 30's? He had moved in to the apartment next door 6 months ago. Clearly having different schedules, they passed each other regularly in the halls as one always seemed to be leaving for somewhere as the other came home. First out of courtesy they had simply greeted each other, but it was not long before they had built an easy rapport. He seemed a little shy, almost embarrassed to talk to her at first - more like she got from the boys at her previous high-school than she expected from a grown man. He was however, always perfectly polite and sweet; unlike all the men she knew her own age!

She on the other hand was always happy to speak her mind and make jokes. And after seeing his ready smile, was determined to draw him out of the shell he seemed to hide in. So, gradually, an easy banter had developed between them as they bridged the gap toward friendship.

She had learnt that he had moved in after his divorce had settled. He had not gone into any real detail over the past relationship, although she was at least sure there were no children involved. It was in any case clear the wound was still raw since he would refuse to go into any more detail when pressed. His eyes would go distant and his attention would wander as the thread of conversation would inevitably fall away. It felt in those moments as though he was carrying some great weight or burden, despite trying to maintain a brave face.

A handsome face, she thought, topped with a full head of wavy hair - light brown, almost blond from the summer sunshine. A sprinkle of grey shot through his beard if he'd not shaved in a few days, actually adding to his appeal in her opinion. But it was mostly his eyes that most captured her, the intensity of his gaze when he looked at her felt as if he was not just there listening to her, but listening with his entire being. Then, those times his smile reached them, the cute creases that formed at the corners and the sparkling glimmer of light in those green depths was mesmerising.

She was quite sure he found her attractive too. He was very subtle and tried hard to be polite, but she could still tell when his eyes travelled further than just her face. Almost physically feeling the desire in his gaze occasionally as she would walk away down the hall.

Thinking now of those eyes on her, she realised that she had slipped her hand under the thin fabric and was dipping a finger into the warm juice now flooding her slit. Drawing the moisture up to coat her clit as she rolled slow circles around the swollen bud.

Yes, she did like him looking at her she thinks to herself. Imagine if he saw me like this? Would that take his mind off his troubles? Heart pounding now; how far could she make him go?

He had invited her over for coffee hadn't he. A few times now. It would actually be rude if she didn't soon take him up on that offer.

She didn't want to be rude, did she? She smiled to herself as she climbed out of bed, throwing on her robe. Cut in a kimono style and complementing her negligee in colour and style, the sleeves were cut wide, the waist belted and the hem rested above the knee.

Pausing before the mirror to take a deep breath and consider the effect she wanted to present, she was happy with what she saw. As a child, she had been very active in gymnastics, training multiple times a week and competing at a national level. As a 21 year old woman, her competition days were now many years past of course. Injury and burnout claiming her from the sport just as it had all her contemporaries.

Still, the long hours of training over the years had served her well. She still ran trails in the summer and earned a good income giving aerobics and yoga classes at the local gym 5 times per week. The result looking back at her in the mirror was very satisfying.

She had been called stocky as a teen, mainly because she was not very tall and had more muscle developed than any of the typical kids. After she had tapered off from the intense physical training in her late teens however, she had grown a little taller to her 165cm whilst still maintaining fantastic tone showing the muscles rippling when she moved. The stockiness had also gone, replaced by graceful legs topped with a round butt, a flat stomach and, to her lasting disappointment, small breasts.

Her breasts; if only they had grown more as well, she thought, frowning at the A-cups sitting high on her chest and barely filling out her clothes. Although at least this way, she didn't really need to ever wear a bra, even when exercising. She would almost always have one on outside however, if only to keep her nipples from constantly showing through her blouses.

Padding across the soft rugs on her bare feet, she goes in to the kitchen and turns the pot on to boil. Pulling down the French press and fetching her beans from the fridge she grinds a portion with the antique mill. Tapping out the drawer into the pot before pouring in the boiling water. Grabbing a pair of mugs on her way, she heads to the front door.

Nervous now, she makes her way across the hall. What if he's not home? She thinks. What if he is?? What if he has company?

Well, nothing for it but to find out, she tells herself as she pushes the bell.

After what seemed an eternity, she hears the lock turn and sees the door being pulled open.

"Hi" she says smiling and brandishing the pot and mugs.

He just stands there. His eyes blinking, mouth slightly ajar. Clearly not expecting any company, let alone this. Clean shaven and wearing a neat charcoal business shirt without tie, the top half was very respectable. The bottom half however was clad simply in loose plaid pyjama pants.

"Nice suit" she says, eyeing him with a smirk.

"ah, oh, hm, thanks, work, home, ahh, video..." he stammers, clearly flustered whilst his brain tried to process what he is seeing.

"Oh, so you're busy then?" Pouting just a little.

"No, well, yes, but, umm the meeting, just finished..."

"Cool! So time for a coffee break!" again, brandishing the pot.

"Ahh, yeah, I guess, umm come in?" Still clearly struggling to find his poise, following the polite forms at least seemed well engrained.

He steps back and opens the door wider, inviting her to enter. As she walks through the door, she notices that it's an awkward gap. Then realising this is due to him not being able to open it completely because he's standing behind it still. Almost as if he's hiding.

"Thank you." She says as she squeezes past. "Honestly, I've run out of milk and hoped I could impose."

Turning her head back as she walks down the hall, she sees him close the door and then appear to adjust something in his trousers.

He calls out "Ahh make yourself at home. Milk is in the fridge. I'm just going to get dressed."

"No you're not!" she blurts out, a little too sharply. He stops to look at her, raising an eyebrow in question.

Thinking quickly, she recovers by saying "This coffee is getting cold already, we don't want to ruin it." Then, looking down at herself and shrugging her shoulders, "and anyway, this way works better."

With no ready comeback, and his brain still overloaded from this whirlwind, he can only shrug and follow.

With this submission comes, surprisingly, a little clarity in the fog of his mind. 'Host' he thinks, 'I know that role. Lets just stay busy with what I know. The rest can work itself out later.'

'and for fuck's sake, lets get our shit together a little here shall we? You're not a fucking teenager anymore buddy!' he reprimands himself 'anyway, she clearly has some plan here, don't fuck it up and you may just enjoy it!'

With that, he recovers a sense of equilibrium. Taking a deep breath, making sure that his now very erect cock is safely tucked away in the waistband of his trousers, he follows down the hall to enter the kitchen.

Pleasantly surprised when he walks through the door to find her bent at the waist, head buried deeply in the refrigerator. Is she even arching her back a little?

Now a little more in control of himself, he can appreciate the fine view being presented to him without needing to linger.

"In the door." He says, not missing a beat as he walks across to the island bench and begins to gather cutlery, plates and a paper bag that was sitting there.

"Oh, sure of course" she says, pulling up and collecting the carton as she closes the door.

"Find anything nice in there?" he asks casually over his shoulder as he makes his way to the dining table.

"Lots actually, for a man." She winks back as she crosses to join him. "Plenty of nice, healthy food in fact."

"Well I try to take care of myself. You know; Healthy Body, Healthy Mind and all that stuff."

"Clearly..." she says, pointing at the croissants he was pulling out of the paper bag and setting onto the plates.

Chuckling, he replies "well you know, balance in life is essential of course."

"Absolutely! What's the point of being good if you can't be bad now and then right?"

Taking the cup she offers him, he studies her expression. Trying to gauge exactly how much is meant by that comment. Certainly more than nothing, but what is she after really, he wonders?

'I mean, she's clearly intelligent, fun, full of energy and absolutely gorgeous' he thinks to himself. Actually, not gorgeous. Not after today. After today she can be nothing less than ravishing. 'Yes, and nearly 20 years your junior!' He thinks, returning to the present.

She is still holding eye contact with just a hint of a grin at one corner of her mouth. Eyes bright and one eyebrow very slightly raised to indicate that the question was, in fact, not rhetorical.

"Hmm" he answers with a deliberate blink and briefest raising of the eyebrows. Representing a nod to those who want to see it, or nothing to those who didn't.

In short; the most non-committal answer known to human kind.

As the moment passed the two of them busied themselves with plates, cups and taking their chairs across from each other.

Settling in, she picks up the pastry and delicately tears a flake from it.

"Two fresh croissants" she says. "Were you expecting company this morning?"

Smiling as he brings the steaming coffee to his lips, "no, just an indulgent breakfast for one."

"ohhh that is nice coffee by the way!"

"Thanks. My grandparents lived in France after retiring. They always taught me to appreciate what goes into me."

No hint of any innuendo that he could see. Feeling safe, he engages this conversation.

"Is that where the pot came from, your grandparents?"

"Yeah. That and the mill was all I could think of bringing back here after they passed away."

"You know, I was once working with a starred chef who swore that the only way to brew a perfect coffee was with the French press."

"Starred? Like, Michelin?"

"Yes, he had two of them back then. No idea if he ever got the third."

"I didn't realise you were a chef...?" she says, looking around the apartment.

"I'm not" he replies; "I worked with him to make sure the kitchen was laid out correctly in a hotel we were building."

"Wow, really? So I'm like at Michelin level?" she asks around a mouthful of food.

Smiling at her girlish enthusiasm, he replies "Well sure, but then he was French...so it's not like he's an unbiased source. And we still had to install a ridiculous espresso machine in any case."

"Hmm. Well I'm sticking with this pot anyway!"

"Good for you." He nods. "Good to know what you want and stick to your guns until you get it."

Her face brightens, then clouds over again. "Yeah sure, but then still if he went with the machine; doesn't that mean it's actually the right thing to do, like do what the customer wants right?"

Just then, a telephone rang across the room. She looks across and notices the large desk and monitors set up in the corner. Clearly some sort of home office.

She looks back to him as he rises.

"Every now and then, you just need to be bad...right?"

Holding her gaze a beat longer, he then slides his plate with the second, untouched pastry across the table to her. "Take care of this for me please?" he says as he turns to walk away.

"Aren't you hungry?" she calls to his retreating form "You've not had anything yet."

"Still building an appetite!" He calls back over his shoulder as he picks up the headset from his desk.

She sits back as he takes the call, tuning out their conversation as she takes stock of the apartment. Familiar inasmuch as the layout was the same as hers, yet completely different in feel due to how it was furnished.

She lived far better than most of her classmates from the university it was true. In part due to the inheritance she had received from her grandparents, but mostly due to having held at least two jobs beside her studies since she left high school.

Still, she lived like a student with her apartment hobbled together from odds and ends, loose items cobbled together where nothing fits with anything else, yet the whole was uniquely her home.

This was different. Austere in the way that men seem to prefer, yet still warm and inviting. Cosy and comfortable but with almost no decorations.

Except for that bike above the sofa of course, that thing didn't look at all comfortable. Hung as if it were some piece of art, it was the race bike she had often seen him with trying to navigate out of the lift. All black carbon fibre with profile bars and fairings which looked like something dreamed up by NASA engineers on their day off. She idly wondered if he just had it for training, or if he used it to compete.

He wanders back across the room to her, still with the phone to his ear and asking occasional questions of the caller. He collects the coffee mug whilst mouthing "Sorry" to her as the person on the other end clearly continues. She purses her lips and shakes her head, 'It's OK' then pushing the last flakes of pastry into her mouth with a finger.

As he walks off again, she tunes in a little to what he's now saying on the call. It seems the explanation from the other end were over and he was now giving his advice.

"Look, I understand your doubts. I agree it has a high-risk potential and could end badly. However you've clearly thought through the plan and it sounds solid to me. I see you have thought through the contingencies and have good strategies ready. Both positive as well as negative."

"What I also like the most is that you have chosen the long-term view and developed a win-win solution instead of the zero-sum easy win. Good business is like all life - its better when we all come out ahead."

"My advice? Act now while its fresh. Sometimes the worst decision you can make, is no decision at all. Then you miss the opportunities on the new path, and forget to take any on your current path. Be bold, take action, see where the chips fall."

As she thinks on those words, she considers her own plans again. Could it be that easy? Well, lets just take control of the situation and see what comes of it!

He is sitting at his desk, headset now off but with his back to her, head down, scribbling some notes.

The decision made; she feels a shot of adrenaline as she rises from her chair and a warm flush rises with her, spreading from her chest up to her throat. Heart beating hard now, she begins to loosen the sash of the robe whilst gliding across the room toward him.

Her nipples tightening again as she draws the fabric of the robe back, off her shoulders and letting it fall to gather at her elbows.

She stops, around three steps from him. Her small breasts now standing proud as she stands there, shoulders back and head high. Shivers of pleasure run down to her clit as she cocks one leg and draws the knee out to the side, letting the split of the negligee fall to either side of her thigh. Knowing that her full leg was on display.

Watching as he seems to sense her presence, his head coming up a little and cocking to the side. Just as a wild animal would do when listening for a stalking predator.

She waits now in anticipation. He gently lays the pen on the pad and moves them to the side of the desk. Leaning back and slowly pivoting on his chair to face her.

She continues to wait. Breathlessly, as his eyes reach her. Seeing them widen in amazement.