Chris popped up.
Tonight, he seemed bolder than usual. Flirty, a little reckless — probably because it was Friday and he could feel the weekend stretching out in front of him. I didn’t mind. I was in that kind of mood too — the kind where a message can land like a hand on your thigh.
Hey, what’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone on a Friday night?
I smiled. He always knew how to make it feel like I was the only one in the room — even if the room was digital.
I stayed playful.
Waiting for someone interesting to come along…
He didn’t miss a beat.
Careful what you wish for. I might just show up.
I bit my lip, grinning at the screen.
Who says I’m waiting for you?
Back and forth we went — teasing, testing. Suggestion thick between the lines. By the time he said:
Let’s get a coffee tomorrow. There’s that café near your place, isn’t there?
— it was already decided. He’d confessed before that he was shy, but with me… he seemed different. Braver. I liked that. We agreed on 8 PM. Less than 24 hours to go. And just before we said goodnight, I sent him a cheeky photo — just enough to leave him thinking about it.
The next evening, I got ready slow, enjoying the ritual of it. The café was a stone’s throw from my flat, so I had time to spare. I slipped on a dress — something that hinted without announcing — and skipped the lingerie. Not out of laziness. Out of intent.
The place was warm, all low lights and mellow jazz. I spotted him immediately. Corner seat. Watching the door.
His smile spread the second he saw me.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he said, standing to greet me. His hand rested on my waist a moment longer than it needed to. I let it.
“Hi,” I said, sliding into the seat across from him.
There was something charged in the way we talked. Each word had a second meaning. We danced through the conversation like it was foreplay — staying just shy of anything too direct.
“Do you always look this good when you’re meeting someone for coffee?”
“Only when I know the company’s worth it.”
He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the game. So was I.
After about an hour, the air between us had grown too thick to ignore. I leaned forward and said softly:
“How about we take this conversation somewhere more private?”
No hesitation.
We walked the short distance to mine in silence, but our bodies were already speaking. Once inside, I led him to the couch and we sat close — not touching, but almost. The kind of space that makes you ache a little.
“So,” I said, trying to sound casual, “tell me something I don’t know about you.”
He smirked.
“I’m full of surprises. But why spoil the fun by telling?”
I smiled. “Guess I’ll have to find out myself then.”
His arm circled my waist. Then — finally — we kissed.
It was slow at first, like we were trying each other on. I climbed into his lap without overthinking, my dress riding higher. He didn’t say a word — just let his hands explore the curve of my body with reverence and restraint.
We were both breathing faster now. Tension gave way to something looser, more physical — but still, it wasn’t rushed. That’s the beauty of a proper girlfriend experience… when it’s done right, you don’t need to race to the end. You feel your way there.
And Chris… well, he had a way of responding that made you feel seen. He wasn’t selfish. He read every shift in my breath like a cue.
There were no words for a while. Just the soft sigh of fabric, the rhythm of mouths and fingertips. It was playful, sweet, and then — unexpectedly deep. Like a thread had been pulled somewhere in both of us, and we couldn’t stop now if we tried.
Later, as we lay tangled and breathless on the sofa — the mood softened but still humming — he whispered:
“Same time next week?”
I turned to face him, lips swollen, legs still trembling just slightly from… well. From all of it.
“Yes, please,” I murmured.
And he kissed me again, like we were starting all over.
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