Waiting for The Other Shoe to Drop --Part Seven

                 I hopped in the shower and stood underneath the warm spray wondering if tonight was a mistake? Suppose the sex was horrible? How would we look at each other in the morning? Not that I’m saying I’m a goddess in bed but I know what I want. Most women play the good girl, I don’t do that kind of stuff role, but at the end of the day, I want satisfaction. Besides, the way my sex life has been lately, who knew if I’d have a chance for some flesh to flesh action again? Shun and I had a pretty decent sex life, but he had the nerve to be a selfish lover. He wanted to get his and roll over then go to sleep. That would’ve been fine had he made sure I had gotten me as well. I should’ve known then and there that this thing wasn’t going to work. But I digress. Would Rich be worth the headache?
                Turning the water off, I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in a plush towel but I didn’t have a moment to ponder further on the what ifs, because my doorbell chimed. “Shit,” I muttered as I nearly tripped over my feet looking for my robe and a tip for the driver. The doorbell rang again and I just threw caution to the wind, grabbed the money from the edge of my dresser and went to the door – expecting to see a delivery driver. Surprise. Rich was early.
                “Well,” he said as held up a medium priced bottle of merlot. “Did I do a good job picking out the wine?”
                “You’re early and the food isn’t here yet.” I shook my head and held my towel tighter as Rich stepped in the house. “I have to get dressed so; you can listen for the door and take care of the tip.”
                “I thought women liked it when men were a little early or on time?”
                “It’s rude to be late or early,” I said as I dashed down the hall and into my room. As I dressed in a jersey mini dress with a small bleach spot at the tail, I heard the doorbell chime again. Great, now the driver was here. I stood in the hallway and watched Rich’s interaction with the man, he handed him a ten dollar bill and took the food.
                “All right,” he said. “Food’s here.”
                “Great,” I said. “I’ll get the plates. You can set the food up on the coffee table.”  Looking over my shoulder, I saw Rich heading my way.
                “What’s wrong with the dining room?” he asked. “That way I won’t have to compete with whatever reality show or Lifetime movie you’re going to flip to.”
                Slapping my hand on my hip, I tilted my headed to the side and rolled my eyes at him. “I’m really sick of you and your generalizations. It’s time for ESPN’s E-60 and I don’t do reality TV, unless it’s about ancient Egypt.”
                He bowed. “My apologies. I hope to keep my foot out of my mouth for the rest of the night.”
                “Then maybe the next time you open your mouth should be the moment you put food in it?”
                “So, you don’t want to talk, huh?” He closed the space between us and wrapped his arms around my waist. “Is there anything else that I can do with my mouth that doesn’t involve talking?”
                Lord help me, I thought as I ran my index finger across his bottom lip. He flicked his tongue across the pad of my finger and I shivered as if an artic wind blew across my spine. He slipped his hand underneath my dress and I was so excited not to be wearing panties. Not even a flimsy thong, because I wanted to see if he knew how to use those big hands and long fingers for more than just pecking away at the computer. Boy was I happy.  His fingers danced around my wet slit and my lips puckered wanting and needing him to seek out my throbbing clit for one second. Lips split, clitoris stroked and drummed until legs turned to rubber – he had skills with those fingers. Moaning, I sucked on his bottom lip until we hummed a lustful tune with the same melody. Feeling his erection against my thighs made me tremble with anticipation and need. Or was that want? It didn’t matter. I just needed to know one thing:
“Do you have a condom?”

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