Foreplay

At home, I took a hot shower. A long one. I shaved my legs and more, applied lotion, painted my nails sparkling sapphire. My lips dark ruby. I blow-dried my hair into soft waves.

Then I slipped into the dress. Slowly. With nothing underneath. It felt like a sinful promise on tingling skin.

The outfit definitely needed a selfie. I posed in front of the mirror. Hips slightly twisted, one eyebrow raised, lips half open, eyelids half closed. As vampy as possible. Click.

Photo via WhatsApp to: Bille. My best friend.

Me: What do you think? Is this okay for my meeting with Mr. Big?

Bille: More than fine! You look like sex on champagne!

Me, unsure: Too much?

Bille: Nooo! He'll eat you up.

She continued typing.

Bille: I'd love to eat you up myself. Like back then. Remember our pajama party when my parents were away for the extended weekend and we had the house to ourselves?

I smiled. Of course I remembered. It was like it was yesterday. My knees went weak. I had to sit down on the edge of the bed. Her breath tickled my neck. Her hands began to explore me. My laughter was excited, almost hysterical. We disappeared under the covers and neither of us knew whose hands were where anymore. Only curiosity remained, no boundaries.

I was startled out of my thoughts. What time was it? The alarm clock read 7:39 p.m. Only 21 minutes left. And somewhere out there, a man was driving to pick me up.

Me: Yes, of course I remember. How could I ever forget?

Me: ♡♡♡

Me: Gotta go. Bye.

It was getting dark outside. I turned on the light and walked barefoot through the apartment. I found some white wine in the fridge and drank it straight from the bottle. I sat back down on the bed.

I admired my reflection again. Hot, fucking hot.

Yes, I used to be curious. Now I was dangerous. Grrrr!