He walked like any lanky teenager would, hands shoved into his pockets, shoulders slightly raised, and that sideways movement that teenage boys have patented, who have too much limb and no practice. But he did it with an assurance that came only with age, which was further reinforced by the grey in his hair. She shook her head as she made a mental note that he was probably not less than 40-something. It occurred to her to stop thinking about him, but it was already too far along the road for that...
He was such an attractive man, even at whatever age it was that he was. His smile was at once shy and a cheeky grin, and his eyes twinkled and creased while he smiled. And so fit... She had stood around, listening to his stories whenever she could, and it had made her look at him with a new kind of awe. So now, he was not only an attractive man, he was also strong, amusing, passionate and had a great sense of humour and taste in music. She was beyond fantasizing, by this point, so there was no point in warning herself off. She justified it away by saying that she wasn't even going to be getting half of a minuscule chance to act on her fantasies, so it was harmless.
The night breeze blew at her making her cheeks pink, she knew it. She also knew that she looked fabulous and she was acutely aware of him behind her. He was fiddling with a system that was playing some of her favourite music. Looking out over the water, she hummed along with the music, momentarily distracted by the sheer joy of being water-side again after so long. So it was a sincere surprise when she heard him next to her "You know these songs."
It wasn't a question, but she answered anyway "Yeah, they're some of my favourites. I love these artists. No forced rhymes back then..." and mentally kicked herself for sounding juvenile.
He was looking at her, though, intently, like he expected her to say more. Feeling her ears heat up, she looked back out across the lake. But not for long.
What in hell's name was his hand doing on hers? She looked down at his fingers lightly stroking the back of her hand, and then looked around. He caught the glance "Nobody's around. The presentation isn't over. I was supposed to set up."
She was speechless. What was he saying? She looked up at him, not moving lest the moment vanish.
He looked around once more, gave her hand a slight tug, and headed indoors.
She followed after a minute.
A low whistle took her towards a small room in a corner, where he was waiting.
Carefully, silently, he closed the door as she entered, turned on the light and looked at her. "Your cheeks are pink... Are you cold?"
She shook her head, still unsure if her voice would break this spell.
He reached out a hesitant hand "May I?"
And ran his hand up and down her waist for a few seconds before pulling her close and supporting her head with one hand. Looking right into her eyes, he leaned down and slowly kissed her.
She melted in his arms with a little sigh. The kiss deepened, his hands moving to her back, pulling her to him and holding her tight. She kissed him back as passionately, hands splayed on his rock-hard chest.
Just then, his phone buzzed, telling him it was time to go...
All night, she tingled. Memories of his lips intricately intertwined with Backstreet Boys and the water at night.
He was such an attractive man, even at whatever age it was that he was. His smile was at once shy and a cheeky grin, and his eyes twinkled and creased while he smiled. And so fit... She had stood around, listening to his stories whenever she could, and it had made her look at him with a new kind of awe. So now, he was not only an attractive man, he was also strong, amusing, passionate and had a great sense of humour and taste in music. She was beyond fantasizing, by this point, so there was no point in warning herself off. She justified it away by saying that she wasn't even going to be getting half of a minuscule chance to act on her fantasies, so it was harmless.
The night breeze blew at her making her cheeks pink, she knew it. She also knew that she looked fabulous and she was acutely aware of him behind her. He was fiddling with a system that was playing some of her favourite music. Looking out over the water, she hummed along with the music, momentarily distracted by the sheer joy of being water-side again after so long. So it was a sincere surprise when she heard him next to her "You know these songs."
It wasn't a question, but she answered anyway "Yeah, they're some of my favourites. I love these artists. No forced rhymes back then..." and mentally kicked herself for sounding juvenile.
He was looking at her, though, intently, like he expected her to say more. Feeling her ears heat up, she looked back out across the lake. But not for long.
What in hell's name was his hand doing on hers? She looked down at his fingers lightly stroking the back of her hand, and then looked around. He caught the glance "Nobody's around. The presentation isn't over. I was supposed to set up."
She was speechless. What was he saying? She looked up at him, not moving lest the moment vanish.
He looked around once more, gave her hand a slight tug, and headed indoors.
She followed after a minute.
A low whistle took her towards a small room in a corner, where he was waiting.
Carefully, silently, he closed the door as she entered, turned on the light and looked at her. "Your cheeks are pink... Are you cold?"
She shook her head, still unsure if her voice would break this spell.
He reached out a hesitant hand "May I?"
And ran his hand up and down her waist for a few seconds before pulling her close and supporting her head with one hand. Looking right into her eyes, he leaned down and slowly kissed her.
She melted in his arms with a little sigh. The kiss deepened, his hands moving to her back, pulling her to him and holding her tight. She kissed him back as passionately, hands splayed on his rock-hard chest.
Just then, his phone buzzed, telling him it was time to go...
All night, she tingled. Memories of his lips intricately intertwined with Backstreet Boys and the water at night.
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