Her Evening

Bill looked around the restaurant, his eyes seeking her. The candle-lit booths and dark red curtains made seeing anyone at all difficult.

He had chosen this place because of the 3-piece combo that played there on Friday evenings, because the food was superb and the service impeccable, but mainly because it was her favorite place.

It had been years. Would she look different? Would she have changed so much that they would not have anything at all to talk about?

No matter what, he knew he would remember her. They had been lovers for two years before a new job in Paris had pulled him away. It had been a hard separation but they both recognized that they would grow in their new lives. They parted friends and had remained in occasional contact over the years.

When he had a business trip back, he had emailed her and asked if she wanted to meet for a quick, friendly drink. She responded right away and asked him where. It didn't take a second for him to name the spot.

He relaxed in the comfortable booth, listened to the music and waited.

Alethia had been having a day from hell. Her boyfriend had again told her he was 'busy' for the evening, making the third weekend in a row that he had put up some excuse for not meeting. Her boss had given her a rotten assignment just before leaving for the evening and demanded it be done by Monday. One of her dogs had been sick the night before and she spent hours tending to the beloved animal. She was feeling frazzled and down when Bill's invitation had appeared. The idea of a friendly evening out was like an oasis in the desert and she had jumped at the idea.

When she sent her reply, she couldn't help but notice a quick surge of... something. When walking down the evening sidewalk, she caught herself staring at her reflection in the windows outside the restaurant. "Not bad", she thought. The dance classes always kept her figure exactly where she wanted it. She looked at her own eyes, then laughed out loud. "What am I doing, primping? That was a long, long time ago." She walked in, smiling at the joke.

He saw her come in smiling and his heart did a flip in his chest. She looked even better than she had years ago. He stood up and waited for her.

She walked back through the restaurant, winding through the booths and only when they were nearly touching did she see him. Her breath stopped for a moment as they looked at each other, just looking.

"Alethia," he breathed. "You look stunning."

"Bill, you -- the years have been good."

Without thinking, his arms went around her in an embrace. She had no intention of kissing him and certainly not kissing his lips, most certainly not a kiss that lasted for more than a second and left her standing in his arms looking up into his eyes and trying to remember her own name.

His hands were on her back and he could feel the movement of her muscles underneath the satin blouse, familiar and yet strange after so long. Her hair smelled the same but she was wearing a different perfume. God, she looked good.

"Let's sit," she said as she slid gracefully into the booth. Did her hand linger a moment on his chest? He tried to clear his head.

"Of course. You look amazing, Alethia. Whatever you are doing, keep doing it. It's working."

She laughed and the tension was gone. "Charmer. Watch it, mister. I'm armed."

The waitress arrived and he automatically ordered for them both. Only once they were again alone did he realize he did not even ask what she wanted.

"I'm sorry -- it was just natural. Do you want something else?"

"No, you got it right," she said. "Good memory."

"Some things just stay with you. Tell me about your life now. Are you still with-"

"No. Well, not... It's a complicated time. Let's start with you, OK?"

"OK." The drinks arrived and he raised his to her. "To good friends." She smiled and touched glasses.

"So tell me about Paris," she said. "What is it really like to live there?"

"It's very French." She laughed. "The restaurants are amazing, really amazing. There is a phenomenal music scene and the local markets carry the best of everything. Tough not to love it."

"Sounds fabulous. Living alone?"

He smiled. "Cutting to the chase? Some things really don't change." She demurely sipped her drink and waited, holding his eyes. "Yes, living alone. I never hear from the ex anymore. There have been some... interesting moments, but nothing that has lasted."

She would not admit to anyone, least of all herself, how this news pleased her. She looked around the restaurant, the beautiful settings, the elegant attire of the patrons.

"I've always loved this place."

"How often do you get here?"

"Never." She shook her head. "Not since we -- well, not lately."

He asked, "Hard times?"

"Is it obvious?"

"Maybe only to me."

She looked over at him, his eyes showing real concern. Those eyes, damn him... those eyes. And that same smell, the one that had made her keep one of the pillow cases for months after he left, holding it close to her through the cold nights alone...

"Alethia?" Jesus, he thought. I almost called her 'baby'.

"Sorry. I don't know where to start, or even if I should."

"The beginning is a good place."

"Smart ass. Order dinner. I'm going to go freshen up."

She slid out and he waved over the waitress. She didn't think for a moment about what he might order, knowing that he would get something they would both enjoy. She went to the ladies room and wound up at a sink next to another woman.

The other woman turned and asked, "Excuse me, but can I ask you about the man at your table? Is he your husband?"

Something she could never explain made her turn and say, "Yes. Yes he is. Why?"

"Nothing." The woman turned back to her mirror. "You are a lucky woman."

"Thanks. I am." She reached into her purse for a makeup brush, then stopped. He had always told her she was beautiful without.

"Damn it," she addressed her reflection. "What the hell is going on here? We are just meeting for drinks. Friends. That's it. Then back home to my shitty life." She threw the brush back into her purse and walked out.

She slid back in to the table, seeing the first course already arrived. A wonderful smell, was that lavender?

"New menu item," he said. "Lavender soup."

"Good stuff," she said. "If you don't like it you can bathe in it."

"Maybe they do. The waitress smelled pretty flowery. So did the Maître d', for that matter."

"Is that what you do in France? Take baths of lavender and wine?"

"Oh, yeah. If by lavender you mean soap, and by wine you mean water that is occasionally clear but mostly a suspicious rusty color, then absolutely."

"You make it sound so enticing. At least you get your iron."

"That's just for starters. The shower is a small nozzle thing on a hose and the shower stall is the size of a phone booth -- just getting in there is like trying to crawl back inside a womb."

She was watching his lips as he was talking and the mention of his shower brought back a vivid memory of one night, the two of them locked in a passionate embrace, his lips and mouth opening hers, one strong arm holding her tight while he was holding the shower nozzle in just the right way, hitting just the right-

"Ma'am? Your entrée?" The waitress was at her elbow, offering a dish of the most incredible smelling curry. She was snapped back to the moment with a sense of... disappointment?

She dug into the dinner and her mouth was flooded with bliss. She unconsciously leaned into him with the sensation.

"Perfect. They always get it right."

He felt her lean in, her warmth, felt the vibrations of her speaking in his chest. His body was responding of its own will and his eyes could not help but to glance down at her, her nose, her chin, her neck. The satin of her blouse falling open just enough for a glimpse of lace-covered breast, the sight sending a cascade of feelings straight through him.

"Bill," he told himself, "she is here as a friend, as a..." He took a sip of his drink. "Hell, who am I kidding? I want her. I want her bad. Just as bad as when we first met." The admission to himself was liberating and he felt himself now allowing the feelings to course through him. His body was waking up quickly and he shifted his hips.

He looked back at her and found her eyes now staring up at him.

"What?" he asked.

"I was wondering what you were thinking."

He swallowed. They had always been honest with each other. "I was thinking -- about you. Being here."

Her eyes became coy as she asked innocently, "And what about me, being here?"

He could not stop the words. "I was thinking about you. Wanting you. Wanting you bad. Wanting to rock your world, now, tonight."

There. It was out.

She felt herself get lightheaded as she considered her answer. A single word, a single touch now would change everything. She looked into his eyes and knew she was undone.

"I know. I want that too."

He leaned in and their lips touched. First a light, soft touch. She felt his breath on her, gentle, familiar. Then more, his body demanding more, his lips parting and hers opening in invitation. His arm went behind her and she lost her strength to him as he held her closer, kissing her deeply.

"Now?" She asked.

"Now."

"Where?" she asked.

"Next door in the Four Seasons. Now. Now, Alethia."

Her hand went to his chest, then grazed dowards and she felt the intensity of his need. It mirrored her own.

"Ok. Now. Let's go."

He pulled out a wad of bills and threw them on the table, reached over and practically pulled her out of her shoes, heading for the door.

"My coat-" she called.

"Later. We'll buy you a new one." They went out the door in a rush and she found herself up against the wall of the restaurant, the cool bricks against her back and Bill flooding her with kisses, their tongues meeting, bodies pressed together.

"Oh God, it's been so long..." was the last thought that went through her mind before the kiss took away her ability to think. She didn't need to think now, only feel, to give and to receive.

They moved to the hotel next door. Straight through the lobby to the elevator, once inside he turned her around and pulled her head back, began kissing and biting her neck. She opened her eyes and saw herself in the reflection of a mirror, a wonton woman being willingly ravished. She gave herself to it, saw the woman in the reflection arch her back, pull his hand to her breast and pressed it there. He growled and squeezed it hard.

The doors opened and they ran to his suite. He opened the door and now it was her pushing him to the wall inside, her hands opening his shirt, seeing his bare chest for the first time in years. Her hands ran over it and around his back as she pressed him against the wall.

He reached down and scooped her up like she weighed nothing. He carried her into the bedroom and lay her gently on the bed. Something told her this would be the last gentle thing for a while. His hands found her blouse and ripped it open, exposing her lace covered breasts. Her back arched and her hips bucked as he moved in, tearing off her bra. His eyes opened wide at the sight of her breasts.

"God, they are so beautiful. Always so beautiful." He moved down, his mouth covering her rose-colored tips. She felt him begin to suck and the feeling went straight down to a wet, hot place.

Her hands went down and found his pants still on.

"Off. Need them off."

He stood and in a flash, everything in the way was gone. She saw him completely. Her eyes went to the little things she remembered; the mark on his arm, the scar on his leg, the way when he was wanting, it stood and curved slightly left... He was wanting now and her hand went there, feeling the hard softness, the heat from his body coursing through.

"Your turn." He didn't give her time to think, pulling her pants hard, it was all she could do to hold tight to the mattress as her clothes disappeared from her body.

He moved over her and she lay open, open to him. He kissed her hard, his kisses moving to her neck, her breasts. Moving down to her stomach. His hands were holding her open as his warm mouth went further south.

"Ah, God," she said as his first kisses landed on her soft folds. He avoided her most sensitive spot, kissing and making her wet all over before settling down between her legs, his shoulders forcing her thighs apart, his hands caressing her stomach.

He remembered exactly how she liked to be touched, his mouth gentle and then pressing hard, his tongue finding her spot. Her fingers went through his hair and held him there, her legs wrapping around him.

His fingers went inside and she was wondering if he would remember exactly where and oooh -- yes, there, God yes, right there. Soon it was building within her and she could not stop if she wanted to. He held her tight and she pulled him to her, calling his name as her body trembled and then bucked in a white-hot climax, waves rolling over her as he kept her there through wave after wave.

When it passed she collapsed backwards on the mattress trying to catch her breath, wondering if there was anyway, any time a woman could feel more than she just did.

He moved up slowly, kissing every inch of her. She came back to earth and put her arms around his neck as he moved up farther. She could feel him at her entrance. Their eyes were locked together.

"Yes, darling. Come inside."

He pushed forward, easily moving into her. She wrapped around him, wanting him to feel all of her, wanting him to be as far inside as he could possibly be.

Gently now, he rocked inside her. He kissed her and called her name. She held him and encouraged him as his movements became faster, more demanding. She felt him growing inside and knew he was close now. She moved her mouth to his ear.

"Give it to me, lover. Give me everything. I want it."

With a cry, he filled her. She felt everything, every moment. He held her so tight, so long, she was swooning and wanted to, wanted to stay there, him stay there, never move again ever.

His breath returned and they kissed, now lightly, lingering. Her hands stroked his back. He rolled to his side, hands never leaving her, as though he wanted to keep touching her forever.

After a time, she realized she was thirsty.

"I need something to drink, lover."

He reached out to the phone, dialed. "Hello, room service? Send up champagne, please. Two glasses."

She looked at him intently. "One glass. We'll share."

He smiled and spoke to the phone. "One glass, please."