Not Just A Coffee
The sky unleashes its fury as snow once again begins to fall outside. I’m inside a local cafe, sipping coffee, and reading a book I brought along. Running my fingers through my brown hair to free it from the tangles wrought by the chilly wind.
I can’t believe I’m going through with this. Passing through town to meet a woman, Lisa, who wrote me online because she loved reading my stories. She was mutually passing through the same town up in these mountains as we were crossing paths towards our families for the Christmas holidays.
Unfortunately, because of this crazy weather that’s blanketed every state within the same time zone, I had to get a hotel room for the night.
I haven’t heard from Lisa for about an hour, so I don’t know how she’s coming along.
When I glanced out the window from my book – not intentionally – I just looked up and there she was.
* * * * * * * *
This weather is crazy. I’m crazy. What am I doing? Sitting on the edge of a strange bed, in a strange hotel room, waiting to meet Dave who I initially wrote online. I hadn’t done anything like this before, and thus was dressed for something in weather that wasn’t snowing like crazy. Halfway home, there’s no way I could both meet Dave and continue on my journey with this wild snow storm that seemingly came out of nowhere. Altitude. Always unpredictable in winter.
Looking at my watch, it was time to walk the final leg of the journey to meet him.
As I trudged along in the snow, I thought back to how it all began. I’d almost written him off, but was surprised when I received a response to my initial email. This was a man whose words and accent were too sexy. The way he spoke and articulated himself through his messages to me was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.
The real surprise was how down-to-earth he had seemed.
I still blushed thinking about the first time I sent him that bikini photo of myself with my face cropped out. I worried that he wouldn’t write back. Instead, he’d responded with one word: more.
Just as I came around the corner and saw the cafe, I saw his smile, revealing even white teeth and a mischevious twinkle. I felt instantly warm with his friendly gaze welcoming me.
* * * * * * * *
I stood up as Lisa entered, her eyes on me. She returned the smile, gravitating towards me through the door. She had on a winter jacket, and of all things, a knee length skirt. The skirt wasn’t too tight, but a little short. Just a fraction, but detectable by the human eye.
You can tell if a woman is ready for you with the three second rule. Look her in the eye while you pause the conversation. If she looks back for a count of three seconds, she wants to kiss. The resulting uncomfortableness is known as ‘sexual tension’.
I spoke first.
“Hiiiiiiii,” Lisa responded.
“Fancy meeting you out here in this frozen paradise.”
“Yeah, of all places in such wild circumstances.”
We shared a long embrace. Longer than friends would, but not like lovers reuniting.
I’m hoping you won’t write off the date and stay a while. Somehow, you seem to understand my unspoken question by sitting down at my table while explaining, “It’s nice to warm up over hot chocolate, isn’t it?”
“You must be freezing, wearing that skirt out in this weather.”
“That’s what I get having packed two days ago when this sudden out-of-nowhere mountainous snow-storm wasn’t in the weather forecast.”
Once seated at my small table she relaxed, smelling the aroma of coffee and chocolate. I wonder if she’s also sensing the mingled, delicate, scent of my cologne.
* * * * * * * *
When we got over the initial chit-chat about the snow, I managed a whiff of Dave’s nice cologne. Subtle, just perceptible enough to tingle my nose.
We continued to talk about our holidays, back home, and how it can be a lonely time too if it weren’t for family.
The waiter approached us. We ordered off the fixed price page of the menu and took about two hours to casually eat everything. We kept the conversation away from work. Instead, we talked more about personal things.
Dave asked me about my family. I told him a little about my brother, his wife, my parents, my lively relatives, and them always asking when I’m going to find a man to get hitched to. He told me about his folks, siblings, and enough cousins/nieces/nephews that I lost track about who was who and what traditions their family had for the holidays.
Mostly I watched his face. His skin had a light copper tone coming from a fading tan. His eyes sparkled. His jaw was delicate like a piece of fine china.
I needed a distraction so my facial expressions didn’t betray where my thoughts were going.
“I’m going to get a refill. I’m becoming addicted to this sweet, frothy ambrosia. Can I get you anything?”
He pondered slightly before taking me up on the offer. While I’m at the counter, I could sense him watching me, although trying to be indiscreet about it. Maybe I’m not the only one having a different set of thoughts.
* * * * * * * *
Wow. I can’t believe how cool Lisa is in person. I never would have thought for an instant I’d be having such a great time in the middle of a snowstorm, with a woman I hadn’t met in the flesh before.
The waitress refilled our mugs, and on her way back to me, Lisa said, “I love the whipped cream with this so it’s not just a coffee. Nothing like something worth indulging in is there?”
Was that a double entente?
I enjoyed the sound of her natural laughter floating on the air like the smell of cappuccino as we got back to how we met.
She wouldn’t say how, but she came across my dating blog, read some of the erotic stories, wrote me a message, and here we are.
Sure, there was lots of flirting, messaging, and picture exchanging in between, but that’s the general gist.
Then we learned we’re both staying at the same hotel nearby hoping the weather would ease up by sunrise.
“No way!” Lisa exclaimed with another natural laugh.
Our waiter brought the check over, but we both kept looking at each other instead.
I read once that you can tell if a woman is ready for you. The way to tell is with the three second rule. Apparently it works 100% of the time. While sitting close, just let the conversation trail off. Look her in the eye while you pause the conversation. If she looks back for a count of three seconds, she wants to kiss. The resulting uncomfortableness is known as ‘sexual tension’.
I think secretly we were both surprised and excited about the possibilities and how the Universe was setting things up for us. Not just a coffee. But even though we looked at each other for more than 3 seconds, we tried to keep it cool and casual. I counted my cash, paid for it all, and then held her hand all the way back to the hotel. It felt natural, and like the obvious thing to do after such a wonderful conversation.
Thoughts of how to get what I want ran through my head nonstop.
The bed. As we walked I imagined lifting her top over her head, unzipping her skirt and hearing it fall to the floor, maybe with a slight rustling sound.
I kept thinking so much about how I wanted to ravish her and how I was going to ravish her.
* * * * * * * *
Dave paid our bill, escorted me out, grabbed my hand, and we walked back to our hotel.
I didn’t resist. It happened naturally and smoothly. And it kept our fingers warm.
We only had to go around the corner, but in that time, I kept thinking back to the more risque photos I’d sent him; the rush each time I sent them; and the nervousness I felt each time waiting for his response in between our regular chats.
He’d never disappoint. His responses were so basic, so cliche, yet for some reason they had such an effect on me – such words from a man I hadn’t met normally wouldn’t have. Phrases like, “You’re beautiful”,”so sexy”, and always, always, “Send me more”.
We caught the elevator together, and ride up in it side by side. He is staying in a suite one floor below me, same side, facing the same direction.
I have friends who can explode on stage like a samurai and kill five hundred people, but they are afraid to approach a girl in a bar or follow up afterwards.When we get to his floor, he has to go left.
It is an awkward moment. We both pushed the buttons to our individual floors. I was thinking bring him to mine; I’m sure he was wanting me to go to his.
We didn’t speak.
I could see he wanted to come with me and I sure as heck wanted to go with him. As desire pooled between my legs, I could kind of see his room in my mind: off-white neutral walls, the scent of his musky cologne lingering in the air, our clothes tossed across his floor.
“Thank you for a great evening Dave.”
“Thank you. That was the best hot chocolate chat I’ve had in a long time.” he said.
We stood there unsure of what to do.
Just once I imagine giving in to this – the electrical current that is arcing between us.
He spoke first. “Good night.”
“Good night,” I said, disappointed and shocked that Dave would give up so easily; that I was letting him go.
* * * * * * * *
Lisa stepped back in the lift, and her hand naturally came away from mine.
The door closed and a second later I heard the elevator’s engine lift her upward.
It was close to midnight. I went to bed but didn’t sleep. I just laid there staring at the ceiling. Outside light was coming in through the window. Somewhere in the distance a light was flashing or pulsing — probably a party light. I could just make it out on the plaster ceiling above my head. I heard footsteps and people talking far below my window, and the occasional beep of a horn.
As it got later, the city went quiet, and the silence crowded in on me. I checked the clock. Barely an hour had passed.
I rolled over, put the light on, and looked at the phone. There were instructions imprinted on the plate at its base on how to call for room service, an outside line, or to call another guest.
It was simple.
Press 8 and then the room number.
We all have moments where fear seizes hold of our chest first. It clamps gently to the top of the heart, like a vice. Then you really feel it. Your stomach churns. Your throat closes. And you swallow, desperately trying to avoid the dryness and hoping that when you open your mouth, a confident, clear voice will emerge.
This is no time to let fear take hold.
I pressed 8 and then entered the room number. Lisa answered first ring.
“You awake?” I asked.
I put my pants and shirt back on, climbed the stairwell, walked to her door barefoot and knocked.
Lisa opened it, reached out with her hand, and pulled me inside. She was still fully dressed. Still in her top and skirt.
She kissed me hard at the door and I kissed her back. We closed the door behind us, making sure to hear the latch click, and stumbled across the room. I mostly carried her with just my toes running across the floor. In my arms she feels delicate yet strong.
We landed on her wide windowsill, which provided unimpeded views towards the city not but a few blocks away. The window was partially open, allowing for a noticeable cool breeze passing over our skin. There was no balcony or overhang outside the window, but unless you were at ground level and knew to look up several stories into the room, we wouldn’t be seen.
By the time we got there, he skirt and top had been taken off. She wore red underwear that was smooth. Could have been silk; could have been satin. Either way, it wasn’t going to remain.
* * * * * * * *
I had been fantasizing of f_cking Dave ever since I read his first story. His words and style… gets me and my imagination going so much. If he can write like that, I could only imagine how good a lover he actually is! I truly felt like I was every woman in his stories. To have a man like that in bed… so yes, I wanted it, but he had to want it too.
That’s the funny thing about men isn’t ladies?
I think we all have male friends who can explode on stage like a samurai and kill five hundred people faster than melting butter with a blowtorch.
But they are afraid to approach a girl in a bar or follow up afterwards.
I don’t blame them. Most audiences are horny to be f_cked. They want it hard and deep.
But the girl sitting on the bar stool is more difficult. She is scarier. She is the 500 pound gorilla in a little black dress. A make-shift “Incredible Hulk” if you will. She can bust you up if you let her. But she is also horny to be f_cked.
And right now I am too.
My thoughts are all over the place in that lustful vortex when suddenly, the phone rang.
I must have jumped as if an electric shock hit me.
“Yes” and “yes” was all I said.
A minute or two later, a knock at the door, so soft I could hardly hear it. I composed myself, ran over to the door, and looked through the little view hole.
The thrill seemed to excite us both – the possibility of our lustful intentions being noticed, but not blatantly so.
I pulled him inside, started kissing him hungrily. Our clothes put up zero resistance to being removed in a frenzied fashion around our lustful, passionate kissing as we traveled across the room.
We landed against my windowsill. I reached down and grabbed his now hard cock.
Our eyes opened.
He stepped back and ripped off my panties.
I turned around and guided him towards me as I looked back at him.
I felt the head just below my wet entrance. I imagine he wanted to tease me just a bit, perhaps stimulating my clit.
Before too long my fingers pushed his cock up higher, making sure it would find its way inside me.
When he found it, my pussy’s lips grabbed him.
The initial penetration felt amazing.
Instinctively, I pushed back as he was gently pushing forward.
We paused briefly when he was buried in me to the hilt. My mouth opened, exhaling the breath I didn’t know I was holding, as I turned back to face out the window, watching the city below.
“Oh my god that feels so good,” were the only words I could coherently put together.
His hands enveloped my waist, to pull me further back onto him; my hands flattened themselves against the slightly steamy window in an attempt to push myself backwards onto him with his every forward thrust.
* * * * * * * *
The same glow of lights that I had in my room was coming in Lisa’s window too. Although now it was bathing me in its warmth, giving me energy. We started matching our rhythm to that of the pulsing lights I noticed earlier: slow, fast, the pulse unending.
Nobody would have seen through the window how Lisa’s hips provocatively moved in a milking motion, stimulating me immensely, encouraging me not to stop.
At most, other than possibly seeing our silhouettes, anyone might have heard our moans which continued well into the night.
We didn’t have to rush – our families weren’t expecting us at least until the following afternoon.
* * * * * * * *
What we did next I’ll leave to you, the reader, as a fun “audience participation” exercise.
Grab yourself a cuppa, and continue the sexy escapade from either point of view, or both.
Who knows… you might be right. 😉