Is This It?
1/2
The light streamed in in blotches, speckling her face and arms. One spot hit Nestor's face and he began to stir. The sheets wrinkled and the springs screamed, causing her to roll over, away from Nestor.
He slowly moved the sheets down his body without sitting up just yet. He looked over at her, sleeping as if she hadn't in weeks. He sat up slowly, being extra careful so as not to make the springs of her old bed creak.
Her room was antique-looking. There was a chest at the foot of the bed. He had ran into it last night while undoing her bra. The vanity sat across from it, her makeup and hairbrushes tossed with careful messiness on top of it. Her closet was closed, but he imagined it to be neat and full of black, chic clothing and high heels. To the right of bed, on her side, was a pile of clothing belonging to them both.
Nestor's naked body slithered over to the pile. He knelt down next to it and began to pull out his garments. She let out a small noise, and all his muscles tensed. He didn't want her to wake up now. But she didn't; she simply adjusted one hand a bit and continued her slumber. Her long, black hair was strewn across her face and pillow, blocking her face from the world.
He picked up his boxers first, wiggling them over his muscular legs. He picked out his white, button-up shirt, black blazer and his black slacks. The smell of business dinner still lingered upon them. He hated that smell.
He noticed her thong stuck to the bottom of his slacks. Before throwing it to the floor, he thought of her in it last night; who knew his secretary could be so sexy? He thought of her creamy thighs and his touch upon them. He thought of the taste of that thong as he removed it with his teeth. He felt himself getting hard again, and wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed with her for round...four? Or was it five? But he couldn't; he had to leave.
He had told her last night, "I'm not looking for anything...serious."
And she had been okay with it. So now he had to go, to prevent it from becoming serious.
She let out another little noise, and Nestor was snapped away from his fantasies. She turned over onto her back, her hair falling away from her face. She had high cheekbones and defined eyebrows. Her nose was pointed, her face almost fox-like. Her lips were full and lush, slightly parted at the moment as she breathed. The sheet had crawled down her body. Her left breast was exposed, and her arm was hanging off the bed. Her collarbones hugged her neck, and the skin of her neck looked smooth and kissable.
Nestor finished dressing and decided to leave a note. He found a pad of paper on her vanity and used a sharpie to write:
Thanks for last night. Bye.
It was a weak thank-you, but anything else would be too needy. Too clingy. Too serious.
He left her in her bed and crept down her stairs. Everything was draped in a blue glow with the rising sun. It cast an eerie feel to the scene, and Nestor felt its effects. He sped up and got out of the house as soon as possible.
His red BMW was parked behind her car. It was very conspicuous, he knew, but he had been drunk last night. He wasn't thinking straight.
The car pulled out of the lot, leaving the fox-like woman alone in her bed. It was okay though; it was not the first time.
He slowly moved the sheets down his body without sitting up just yet. He looked over at her, sleeping as if she hadn't in weeks. He sat up slowly, being extra careful so as not to make the springs of her old bed creak.
Her room was antique-looking. There was a chest at the foot of the bed. He had ran into it last night while undoing her bra. The vanity sat across from it, her makeup and hairbrushes tossed with careful messiness on top of it. Her closet was closed, but he imagined it to be neat and full of black, chic clothing and high heels. To the right of bed, on her side, was a pile of clothing belonging to them both.
Nestor's naked body slithered over to the pile. He knelt down next to it and began to pull out his garments. She let out a small noise, and all his muscles tensed. He didn't want her to wake up now. But she didn't; she simply adjusted one hand a bit and continued her slumber. Her long, black hair was strewn across her face and pillow, blocking her face from the world.
He picked up his boxers first, wiggling them over his muscular legs. He picked out his white, button-up shirt, black blazer and his black slacks. The smell of business dinner still lingered upon them. He hated that smell.
He noticed her thong stuck to the bottom of his slacks. Before throwing it to the floor, he thought of her in it last night; who knew his secretary could be so sexy? He thought of her creamy thighs and his touch upon them. He thought of the taste of that thong as he removed it with his teeth. He felt himself getting hard again, and wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed with her for round...four? Or was it five? But he couldn't; he had to leave.
He had told her last night, "I'm not looking for anything...serious."
And she had been okay with it. So now he had to go, to prevent it from becoming serious.
She let out another little noise, and Nestor was snapped away from his fantasies. She turned over onto her back, her hair falling away from her face. She had high cheekbones and defined eyebrows. Her nose was pointed, her face almost fox-like. Her lips were full and lush, slightly parted at the moment as she breathed. The sheet had crawled down her body. Her left breast was exposed, and her arm was hanging off the bed. Her collarbones hugged her neck, and the skin of her neck looked smooth and kissable.
Nestor finished dressing and decided to leave a note. He found a pad of paper on her vanity and used a sharpie to write:
Thanks for last night. Bye.
It was a weak thank-you, but anything else would be too needy. Too clingy. Too serious.
He left her in her bed and crept down her stairs. Everything was draped in a blue glow with the rising sun. It cast an eerie feel to the scene, and Nestor felt its effects. He sped up and got out of the house as soon as possible.
His red BMW was parked behind her car. It was very conspicuous, he knew, but he had been drunk last night. He wasn't thinking straight.
The car pulled out of the lot, leaving the fox-like woman alone in her bed. It was okay though; it was not the first time.