Didn’t he know that I was standing beside him on the tube? Yes, that was me, the redhead just on his left. Yes, the one he bumped into and then apologized to without actually looking at my face. I guess the blouse was a little too daring, the stares from the people on the street when I left my apartment block this morning should have prompted me to go back and get changed, but here I am, sitting beside him at a bar that we both just happened to walk into.
God he used the cheesiest chat up line I doubt there’s a girl in the whole of the world who hasn’t heard that one “Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?” his eyes twinkle as he says it. I think he expects me to laugh. He has the most wonderful eyes, so dark that they’re almost black, but then the brightest flecks of green catch the light and it’s almost like there are fireworks there. I humor him and then turn back to my drink.
“You know, you seem familiar,” he says, attracting my attention back to him. I look up, aiming for an interested smile.
“I don’t think we’ve met before.” I say, refusing to count this morning’s tube incident as a meeting since he spent the majority of our very short exchange staring at my breasts. Yes, I did notice, but, to be honest, I know his type and he probably couldn’t care less. I’d normally avoid guys like him. He’s about twenty-eight or thirty years old, but he looks good, too good for his own good, tall, black hair and chiseled cheekbones and facial features, but what can I say? I’m feeling daring tonight.
“Hmm… I’m Sam Watkins,” he says, taking a card out of his wallet and handing it to me. I smile and accept the small cream square of card. His name is written in an elegant font and underneath it ‘Managing Director at Dionysus Technologies’, underneath that are two telephone numbers, a mobile and presumably an office.
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr Watkins,” I smile, placing the card down by my glass. I extend my hand to him “I’m Sophia James,” his hands are large. I like men with large hands.
“It is lovely to meet you, Miss James,” he replies, holding my hand for just a slight moment too long. His eyes sparkle with something close to mischief. “So what is such a beautiful woman doing out by herself on a Friday night?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. “I’m not about to get jumped by a jealous boyfriend or fiancé am I?” he asks, looking around.
“No, no, Mr Watkins, you’re perfectly safe,” I reply, laughing at yet another cliché. “No, the question is where is your partner, surely a man like you has an attachment somewhere? I’m not looking for a cat fight tonight,” I answer, leaning back on my bar chair and sipping at the remainder of my drink, maintaining eye contact with him. He smiles dashingly.
“Well, wouldn’t you know, I’m just like you, living the simple life of a bachelor,” he replies, leaning closer to the bar and gesturing to the barman for another round including my drink in the order.
“Thank you very much, Mr Watkins,” I say, blushing lightly.
“Now, Miss James. I wouldn’t go making assumptions here, but it is a Friday night. We’re both alone and I have a feeling you are looking out for some fun tonight. Would I be wrong?” he says, watching my face carefully. I smile.
“You know, I was thinking the same thing. I’m feeling daring tonight,” I reply, crossing my legs and turning to the barman as he hands me my vodka and lemonade. I smile in thanks before returning my attention to his face.
“You know, Miss James, I think you and I could get on very, very well,” he says, taking a long drink from his glass. I run my foot up his leg gently and he stiffens across from me. He hadn’t expected that. “Miss James, might I enquire as to your age?” he asks, leaning still closer and placing a large hand on my knee. It inches up slightly under the high hem of my skirt.
“I’m twenty-four, but I like an older man, Mr Watkins. I’m not accustomed to going home with strangers, but I can only agree we probably would get on… extremely well,” I tease, swallowing the rest of my drink in one go.
“Well, Miss James, I am not one to turn down the desires of a lady,” he murmurs, letting his hand glide still further up my leg. I let out a stuttering sigh as his fingers brush the already moist surface of my underwear beneath my skirt.
“Your place or mine?” I ask, gripping his wrist before he can get any higher in public.
“I live on the next street,” he answers, withdrawing his hand from my leg.
“Yours then,” I murmur, picking my bag up off of the bar beside me. He drops a £20 note on the counter and the barman nods. He slips down from his barstool first and, as I step down, his hands come around my waist to steady me and then we sweep out of the bar without a second glance.
As he guides me along the street, arm around my waist, my heart begins to hammer. Little does he know I’ve never done this before and not only is it thrilling, but it’s also terrifying. Casual sex is not generally what I look for, but this might just be something I need. His hand is hot and insistent on my spine. We hurry across the pavement to his home, a large townhouse on the edge of Piccadilly Circus. He leads me up the stairs to the front door and pushes a key into the lock. The lock clicks back and before I even know what’s happened his lips are on mine and the door is slammed behind us. His ferocity is terrifying at the beginning until I warm up to his tempo. I’ve never had a man react so quickly to me before.
His hands run through my hair, pushing it away from my face, before coming to rest, one at the nape of my neck and the other at the base of my spine. I shudder against him, winding my arms up over his powerful shoulders. He presses me back against the nearest wall and I hear my handbag fall to the ground. I can feel the power of his body even beneath his clothes and it makes me want him more. I pull at the tie around his neck and finally throw it away from him before proceeding to undo his stubborn shirt buttons. I struggle for a moment before he stops and pushes my hands away, tearing at the expensive looking shirt and shrugging both that and his black jacket onto the cool marble floor.
He crushes his lips back to mine, but undoes the buttons of my own blouse with nimble and skilled fingers. I wonder, momentarily, how often he’s done this before, but soon dismiss it from my mind as, suddenly his large, firm hand clasps around my left breast and I gasp against his mouth. He groans into my mouth and I feel his tongue tangle with mine, battling together.
He drags his lips away and kisses down my throat. “I… know… where… I… saw you.” he murmurs, lifting me further up so I’m closer to his height. I wrap my legs around his hips.
“Uh huh.”
“How could I forget these?” he murmurs, pulling away the pale cream lace of my bra after undoing the clasp and pressing his face to my right breast, pulling my already taut and humming nipple between his lips. My neck arches away from him and my fingers tangle tightly into his hair, pulling him closer at the sudden jolts of pleasure that rush through my body then straight to my already soaking channel, which tingles and quivers with anticipation.