Coffee with Dylan - Ch. 01

Note from the Author

• Dylan [not his real name] is my oldest Literotica (Lit) friend. I've not been here that long, but our most extensive PM thread runs to more than 140 pages. We have more than one thread and some of these include other Lit members. We PM a lot.
• He has already appeared in my writing twice. First being tied, edged and pegged by me in The Bitch That Switched and then being similarly used and abused by Futanari versions of me and another [now sadly departed] Lit member in Something Has Come Up.

• Dylan is around twenty years older than me. I have a good idea what he looks like, but I won't refer to that many details of his appearance here, for obvious reasons.

• Dylan and I are both in committed relationships, but each of us sometimes wonders, what if?

• This story is set in a parallel universe, one in which that question can be answered.

--

It's a warm Saturday morning in Jersey, feels like the start of Summer. Still, I wonder if I dressed appropriately. I have on a pretty, pastel, floral dress, sleeveless and below the knee. It buttons down the front and is a little floaty. I did some twirling in front of the mirror earlier. It's a good choice for the weather, but I'm a bit self-conscious. The material is slightly sheer and maybe I should have put on a bra. I thought it looked a bit ugly with the straps showing and it's not like I really need to wear one, but it might have been, what was the word?, prudent.

I've not straightened my hair and I think my natural wave works with the dress. I check my reflection. Thankfully, I got my makeup right, nothing too heavy, just a little accentuation. I'm a bit happier about my looks nowadays, but still worried that he'll be disappointed. Oh well, I can only be me.

I pick up my phone, it's not 10am yet. We'd said 10am. Wow! I feel nervous. After all you've done in your life, you feel nervous about coffee? What's wrong with you, Emily Miller? I sip my skinny flat white, they serve it in a glass with a little wooden base; it's cute. I'm not normally a coffee person, but they use good beans. Not that I'm really relaxed enough to enjoy it. I'm sitting inside Boxwood, it's a nice place. Not too far from home, but intentionally not on my doorstep either; my car is in the lot. I have a table towards the back and a wall behind me. I can't help keep looking at the door. Still not 10am.

I take a cautious look on either side and open Safari. I had a new story published overnight and it's been doing well. Let's see what's going on. In no time at all, I've got caught up in responding to messages and checking forum updates. There is someone wrong on the Internet and only I can fix this!

"Hello, Em."

A figure is standing in front of me, leaning forward, hands on the back of the second chair. He's slightly silhouetted by the late Spring light coming through the shop's large windows. My eyes adjust and I can make out a smiling face, eyes twinkling behind his glasses.

"Dylan! After all this time, finally."

I stand and try to hug him, but knock the table and tip over my coffee glass. Thankfully, I'd already drunk two thirds of it, but there's still a fuss while we compete to mop up the mess. And then we both start laughing.

"Well, that broke the ice, I guess. Can I get you another coffee?"

"Sure, another skinny flat white, please. But shall we try the hug again first?"

Dylan smiles, we know each other's faces of course, but this is our first real life meeting. Indeed the first time either of us has met another Lit member. It's odd knowing someone and also not knowing them.

He stretches out his arms and I more successfully negotiate the table at my second attempt. He's taller. Of course he is, everyone is taller than me, even in the heeled espadrilles I am wearing. I'm on tiptoes as we embrace. The hug is nice and I also kiss his cheek, but parting feels kinda awkward. Don't blush, Em, for fuck's sake.

"I'll get those coffees then."

I watch him at the counter. He's dressed as you would expect a middle-aged business guy to be. Beige casual shirt, chinos, expensive-looking chestnut loafers. His brown hair is tidy, nothing out of place.

The girl who is serving is pretty, I'd noticed her too. A cute, but maybe spiky, brunette with a nose ring and part of a tattoo visible on her shoulder. He's flirting of course. I'm sure he calls it Mid-West charm, but he's definitely flirting. Oh Dylan!

He's older than me, but in good shape and comfortable in his own skin. Comfortable enough that the girl is smiling at him, head on one side and tugging at her ear coyly. Chick magnet, I say to myself. Eventually he drags himself away from her, carrying two small plates. He sits, placing one in front of each of us.

"Coffee is coming, I got us some muffins. Breakfast at my hotel is awful. If you don't want yours, I'm happy to have it."

"How sweet of you to think of me, hun."

We both smile, but the awkwardness persists.

"So, did you get her number? A girl could get jealous, you know?"

He flushes slightly, it's kinda adorable in a man of his age.

"We were just chatting, Em. I'm here to see you. Obviously."

I find his slight embarrassment amusing.

"Don't worry, I'm teasing you. Though I wouldn't mind getting her number too if you have it."

"Predator!"

It's a running joke. I laugh. It begins to feel more normal. Two friends chatting.

"So I know how this next bit is going to go. I bet you do too."

Dylan grins.

"I think maybe I do. Want to go first?"

I put on a deeper voice.

"Why Emily, you are even more beautiful in person."

Thankfully he doesn't attempt a female register to mimic my words.

"And you seriously need to get a new prescription for your glasses."

We both laugh. Probably louder than is entirely appropriate. The shop is not crowded, a good thing. Our regular on-line familiarity is starting to be replicated in person.

The shop girl arrives with our coffees and asks if we need anything else. We are both fine for now. We each catch the other checking out her ass as she walks away. That leads to conspiratorial giggles.

And it's easier now. I ask about his trip and how his meetings went yesterday. I double check when his flight is tomorrow. We go over arrangements for the evening meal we had planned. He'd read my new story earlier and tells me he liked it.

"In other circumstances, I'd have jerked off to it. But..."

He falters and the implication hangs heavily in the air.

"It's OK, hun. It's really, OK."

I reach over and place a hand on his. The contact is meant to be reassuring, but my nerve-tips also tingle as skin touches skin. He clearly feels it too and our eyes meet. We hold the gaze longer than feels comfortable. I look away first and withdraw my hand after a final pat.

"It's OK."

I was going for cool detachment, but my voice sounds a little breathless. My heart is beating faster. Take your time, Emily. Take your time. I tell myself it's OK too.

"I didn't mean to assume, Emily. We agreed just see how things go. Sorry."

"No problem, hun. I appreciate you saving yourself for me."

I try to make a joke of it, this is how we talk on-line. But I know this is different. I catch his eye and can tell he knows it too.

"I liked you touching my hand, Em. Can we hold hands?"

Same old Dylan, I think. Always pushing me. Then maybe I need a push.

"Sure, hun."

I extend both hands, turned up, being careful of our untouched coffees. Dylan takes them, his fingers under mine, his thumbs stroking the center of my palms. Again the electricity. When our eyes meet this time, it feels different, there is no hurry to look away. We had agreed something silently, or maybe finally accepted something.

"Can I come and sit with you, Em?"

He's making the running again, but I want him to.

"Yes please, Dylan. I'd like that."

Letting go of my hands, Dylan moves his chair to my side of the table. He sits down and I am suddenly more aware of how much larger he is than me and how close he now is. My chest feels warm, my breath more rapid, my heart louder.

I sense he too is in a heightened state. When he speaks, his voice is low and husky.

"I have wanted to kiss you for so long. Would that be OK, Em?"

I grasp his cheeks and pull him to me, unceremoniously pushing my tongue between his parted lips and deep into his mouth. We stay like that for some time. I finally pull back.

"Did that answer your question, hun?"

To be continued...