Sequel: For One Beat More ›
Smiling Politely
So Fresh and True
She slid her little plastic swipe-card into its slot and with an electronic buzz the large blue door to her building unlocked, she smiled at the memory of the first night they had met those months ago. Passing through the small foyer, what little space there was taken up by postboxes and a tired looking pot plant, she ascended the stairs.
When she reached the third floor landing he reminded her of his presence, a colourful calloused hand on her softer smaller one. In a second he was directly behind her with his other hand on her stomach causing her to pause mid step, taking advantage of her hesitance he gently maneuvered her back against the beige wall. Being a good eight inches taller he towered over her as she looked at him questioningly, smiling at his dancing hazel eyes. He lowered his head and let his dark hair fall into his eyes as his nose barely touched hers and his hands found her denim glad hips and squeezed.
She met him halfway with her hands on his forearms and pressed their lips together.
He faintly tasted cherry as he had last time and for a very brief moment wondered what it was she did to get that flavour. Their tongues met, shyly at first, getting used to the invasion of their mouths and were soon in sync with each other. His fingers wove their way between the flannel of her shirt, the cotton of her tank top and her warm skin. A gentle bite on his bottom lip telling him he was reaching her limit.
It wasn't that she didn't want it, far from it in fact. It was that the very public hallway of the building she lived in was where it was taking place. Any second old Mrs Rigby from 406 who smelled of cats and sherry could appear and the shock would not do much for her temperamental heart. Or one of the screaming kids from 302 could come bounding up the stairs and she would never hear the end of it from their over-compensating, manic depressive, consumes more ADD medication than the kids that actually need it mother.
Either way bit of a mood killer.
She pushed him away and laughed at the slightly wounded look on his face, "They'll be wondering what's taking so long."
"Let the pricks wonder," he smiled his little lopsided smile that was fast becoming her favorite expression.
Laughing loudly at his complete disregard for his four friends currently squished into the van in the car park downstairs she took his hand and tugged him in the direction of the stairs, his Vans squeaking across the floor reluctantly.
She looked at him over her shoulder, "Stop being a baby and come on!"
"A baby?" he cocked his eyebrow at her, "I'll show you who's being a baby," he sprinted past her, still clutching her hand, taking the stairs two at a time.
Preferring her shoulder to stay in its socket she peeled her hand free and let him disappear. Rounding the corner she found him, sprawled on the floor, the door propped open again his waist, his white v-neck had ridden up to show the owl tattooed on his lower stomach.
"What number is it again?"
The grin split her face before she even knew it was there, the little bubbles in her stomach floated upwards and she shook her head, holding out her hand to him, "Come on."
When she reached the third floor landing he reminded her of his presence, a colourful calloused hand on her softer smaller one. In a second he was directly behind her with his other hand on her stomach causing her to pause mid step, taking advantage of her hesitance he gently maneuvered her back against the beige wall. Being a good eight inches taller he towered over her as she looked at him questioningly, smiling at his dancing hazel eyes. He lowered his head and let his dark hair fall into his eyes as his nose barely touched hers and his hands found her denim glad hips and squeezed.
She met him halfway with her hands on his forearms and pressed their lips together.
He faintly tasted cherry as he had last time and for a very brief moment wondered what it was she did to get that flavour. Their tongues met, shyly at first, getting used to the invasion of their mouths and were soon in sync with each other. His fingers wove their way between the flannel of her shirt, the cotton of her tank top and her warm skin. A gentle bite on his bottom lip telling him he was reaching her limit.
It wasn't that she didn't want it, far from it in fact. It was that the very public hallway of the building she lived in was where it was taking place. Any second old Mrs Rigby from 406 who smelled of cats and sherry could appear and the shock would not do much for her temperamental heart. Or one of the screaming kids from 302 could come bounding up the stairs and she would never hear the end of it from their over-compensating, manic depressive, consumes more ADD medication than the kids that actually need it mother.
Either way bit of a mood killer.
She pushed him away and laughed at the slightly wounded look on his face, "They'll be wondering what's taking so long."
"Let the pricks wonder," he smiled his little lopsided smile that was fast becoming her favorite expression.
Laughing loudly at his complete disregard for his four friends currently squished into the van in the car park downstairs she took his hand and tugged him in the direction of the stairs, his Vans squeaking across the floor reluctantly.
She looked at him over her shoulder, "Stop being a baby and come on!"
"A baby?" he cocked his eyebrow at her, "I'll show you who's being a baby," he sprinted past her, still clutching her hand, taking the stairs two at a time.
Preferring her shoulder to stay in its socket she peeled her hand free and let him disappear. Rounding the corner she found him, sprawled on the floor, the door propped open again his waist, his white v-neck had ridden up to show the owl tattooed on his lower stomach.
"What number is it again?"
The grin split her face before she even knew it was there, the little bubbles in her stomach floated upwards and she shook her head, holding out her hand to him, "Come on."