Desire (Again!)

It was the first night I was spending in her apartment! I was to spend two weeks – having lost a bet with her… The prospect of a long lonely evening waiting for her to get home daunted me. Her house still felt hers. And I felt like a stranger, intruding on her space!

So far, the story seemed to be scripted the way she had wanted. After all, in two weeks of meeting her—I was in her apartment. We hadn’t made love…. since our third date a week ago.

So I decided to take matters in my own hand.
I was going to cook for her.

(An hour later)
I remembered how much my best friend of 14 years would tease me, that I could even burn boiling water. Well, I could really burn boiling water. And yes, burn tomatoes with them too! The recipe on the pasta packet was of no help! Damn… And the tomato paste tasted, to put it mildly terrible! The wine, I kept sipping through out the latter half of the evening for dutch courage and tipsy tasting refused to make the hot, sticky time in the kitchen any better!

She kept calling… Knowing something was up. “What’s happening? Are you comfy?” she asked causally… and I kept saying, “Not much. Wrapping up work stuff. Waiting for you,” even as the pasta stared soggily out of the pan!

Well, given that the route via her stomach, wasn’t going to win me any brownie points…. And it’s tough to cook for a girl who learnt how to bake the most perfect truffle in Switzerland… I was going to have to think up of options soon!

(Another 45 minutes later)
Sometimes carrying the world with you helps! In my bag – I discovered my favourite jazz CD, Post-It from work and yes, a blue stringy night gown that I bought for myself on a shopping spree!

Whew! If sauce wasn’t going to turn her on, skimpy would! Or so I thought.

I posted 14 love post-it-notes – in strategic positions across her small house. Some in the bath. Some hidden over her favourite coffee blend. Some behind the curtain. Some on her clothes still lying in cartons.

Some lovey dovey.
Some explicit
Some just telling her how much I enjoyed sharing the last two weeks with her!

The notes posted, the CD playing… I headed for a long shower to get me all ready to seduce her out of her white socks!

(An hour later)
It was about to hit the witching hour. My stomach was growling. Burnt pasta and Chinese takeout lay side by side on the kitchen. (Thankgod, for knowing the best restaurants in town!)

“I am on my way home.” Her text buzzed with a smiley!

Tea lights lit all over the room created shadows and light, flickering along with the mellow jazz on the CD player.

I was on tenterhooks… wondering what she would make of my declarations of my intent.
Of my initiation.
Of making the first move.
It had been a week… Didn’t she want me anymore? I had wondered…And the holding hands, long drives in the car and a million texts during the day weren’t helping quelling my bated breath and pent up desire!

The bell rang. I opened the door… and she walked into darkness, opening her shoes and then walking into the bedroom with white socks, pulling off her watch and her shirt, taking in my skimy nightwear… and she reached for my lips…

‘Uhhh… 14 nights. 14 notes is what you need to find. Before you get any of me!’, I said haughtily, intending to control the way this evening ended!

Her indulgent smile mocked me! And she found the first thirteen with ease, collecting them in the dim candle light. She spent ten minutes hunting for the last one… and looked at me almost irritable.

I held her hands. Danced tip toe to Dana Gilepsie singing in the background… Kissed her 13 times for the notes as she read each one out.

“So you like my short hair eh?’ And ‘You are glad that you lost the bet?’ … And ‘You love the way I kiss you?’ She teased me, returning my kiss with equal intensity, nipping at my neck for good measure!

“But where is the 14th note?” she asked – her competitive streak returning….

I knew her well!

I pulled off her t-shirt, unbuckled her belt, pulled her jeans, boxers and drew her socks in a quick move… and led her to the bathroom even as I slipped out of my night wear and drew her to a piece of moist, wilted yellow peeking out of the cabinet in the bath.

It said, “Shower with me?!”

I switched on the geyser. I turned on the shower. Held her hand. And drew us naked under the hot steamy spray. Holding her eyes. Kissing her mouth.

Matching her desire!

About the author

Tappy Tippy

Late Bloomer, Coffee Drinker, French-Frier. Romance in her head. Erotica in her bones!