Whispered Words

My hands have always been one of my most beautiful assets. My fingers are long and the nails tapered in an almond shape at the salon I frequent. He requested that I spend the day getting ready for him and sent me a gift via bitcoin to go towards the salon. I had a massage, facial, nails, and hair done by 3:00pm. The only thing left for me to do was to go home and shower off the day, lotion my skin, and put on the dress he’d bought for me at our last date.

My bag was packed and I couldn’t wait to drop it off at the hotel he’d reserved and join him for dinner. He’d left a key for me at the front desk when he’d checked in that afternoon before going back to work. As I opened the door I smelled his cologne and smiled to myself. A month was too long. A bouquet of long stemmed red roses was on the dresser along with a gift box tied in a red bow. I couldn’t unwrap it without him, but I did smile at his thoughtfulness.

I unpacked my things, set out the candles and toys I’d brought specifically for our night together, and left at 10 minutes to 8:00pm so I could join him at the restaurant across the street. He was waiting at the table when I arrived. He took my hand in his and closed his eyes as he kissed the top of my hand and worked his lips down my fingers just a bit.

“Finally,” his whispered words carried up to my ears as he held out my chair and I sat next to him. Across the table was too far away, and we needed, wanted, to be close to one another. His eyes were like Zultanite, the brown, green, and yellow flecks were mesmerizing. They turned a deep shade of copper when we were together and he’d told me once that was a physical manifestation of his passion. I believed him. His voice flowed over me like rapids as we caught up with one another. The longer we spoke the more I ached inside to end our dinner and have his hands, his mouth, his body all over mine.

The appetizer and entrée finished the only thing left on the table was our nearly empty glasses of wine and the dessert menu held lazily under his right hand.

I leaned in and pressed my lips to his ear. The whispered words were enough to have him signal to the server for the check and for his left hand to grip my fingers more tightly than they had all evening. Dinner was finished and he held my hand tightly as we crossed the street. The look in his eyes as he pushed the button for the elevator was electric. As soon as we stepped on he brought both of my hands above my head and held them there while he pressed his body into mine, leaned down, and kissed me. His other hand traced the length of me and I nearly orgasmed on the spot, but that would have to wait.

It was the briefest of kisses. Fifteen seconds of his mouth on mine and the night exploded with potential. Nothing else mattered but the two of us and as he opened the door to our suite I made a mental note to myself. Whispered words could be a weapon. A catalyst. A push in the right direction.

Who knows, maybe someday I’ll whisper the same phrase in your ear, darling.