The back way

As Sophie had skipped up the marble steps to the foyer of the apartment block, uncertainty and doubt had raced through her head. The drive had been quite exhilarating but she had trouble distinguishing between wishful thinking, on her part, which made her question herself, and the desire she had detected from the way Connor had acted, the way he had looked at her. Yes, she had lead him on, even given him encouragement, but there was no mistaking that he had checked her out during the drive over. The way he had surreptitiously looked down her dress as she pushed her little titties forward to tempt him with their little pink tips, the way he had slid his hand along her exposed thigh, up Under her dress, lingering at the edge of her panties that had made her question her decision to wear any underwear at all, let alone the slinky black lace she had worn.

She fanned the front of her summer dress self-consciously as she reran the scenes in her head as she walked ahead of him, knowing it was completely unnecessary but there was a heat between her thighs that made her self-conscious, thinking it detectable by people around her. ‘A heat haze’, she sniggered.

She slowed as they approached the lift. The tiny, rickety lift was typical of period conversions in this part of London. The apartment above was a glorious, and tasteful, conversion of the original Georgian house but there was little scope for modern conveniences such as lifts. She sighed as she hesitated, clamping her moist thighs tight together. She hated that claustrophobic, stuffy lift and Connor knew it, although it conjured up images of accidental contact as buttons were pressed and the lift lurched, stolen glances down her top again, bodies pressed close together as he braced himself against the lift’s movements, a hot, breathy, stolen kiss, hands up under her dress, tugging at that expensive underwear? Knickers around her ankle and Connor impatient, lifting her in his arms so that, with her legs wide around his hips, he could penetrate her easily and swiftly, banging her with her back against the wall, her hand looking for the emergency stop button as she looked down at her brother’s cock sliding in and out of her? Or turning her around, lifting her dress up and taking her urgently, bent double as she stretched for her toes, ever the gymnast?

Such random and sordid thoughts in the few seconds as she made up their minds for them before she turned and pushed open the door to the staircase that wound around the lift shaft, throwing a smile back over her shoulder, “the back way, I think, Connor?”, she teased, smiling suggestively.