This is the followup to my wonderful date after the unluckiest day post yesterday. I know a lot of people have been excited to hear what happens, and I felt it deserves a post of its own, rather than continue in a single post. Here is the wonderful date part 2, and yes, it will finish in a trilogy with part 3 up tomorrow.
Henry and I are sat in the back of an uber on the way to an apartment he is renting. The topic came up in a very roundabout way. It feels embarrassing to admit that even after knowing him for so long, I still had a hard time expressing my desire to go back with him.
Guys have often told me they can’t tell if a girl wants to go back with them or not. I guess from a girl’s perspective, it’s a hard line to balance between showing your eagerness without coming across as “easy”. Of course, none of this should matter when it comes down to someone you’ve hooked up with before right?
The reason I found it so hard this time, and I imagine the reason many girls do as well, is because deep down we are still scared of rejection. Girls may seem to have it easier when it comes to relationships and sex, but I assure you, we have our insecurities as well. Henry and I have known each other a long time, but I didn’t want to assume that he was still attracted to me in that way.
Henry and I have known each other a long time, but I didn’t want to assume that he was still attracted to me in that way. I imagine if I told him that he would laugh and call me crazy. Well, call me crazy, because even I get flustered at the idea of a guy I like rejecting me. Luckily I was not rejected, and instead, we are sat in a car holding hands.
I’m wearing a black, flared mini skirt. Thigh high black socks and black knee length boots. My top is pink and slight cropped, and I remembered to spray on some perfume. Overall I think I look good. I hope I look good. I’m so nervous.
Since I flew in, I didn’t get the chance to try on multiple outfits. Rather I picked one and packed it, and had plenty of time on the plane to wonder if it was the right choice. I remember that Henry has a thing for suspenders and stockings, but I don’t own any right now. Maybe the long socks will suffice.
Unconsciously I find myself constantly glancing over at his profile. Lit by passing street lights, I watch shadows dance across his features. He has grown his beard out more since I last saw him. I like it a lot. His hair looks slightly different, and I think his face overall is also slimmer.
He really does feel like a stranger. Or I feel that perhaps I am looking at him properly for the first time. My heart is beating at such a frantic pace, I’m glad the cab driver has the radio on because I think they would all hear it slamming against my chest otherwise.
The apartment Henry is staying at is nice. Large and furnished in a sort of “lived in” way. I take off my boots in the hall and sling my coat over a chair in the living room. I sit down on the wide corner sofa. Henry is going around the room switching on various lamps and turning them off to try and find a romantic lighting.
He sits down on the sofa, not particularly close to me. We continue our conversation from earlier in the night and I try really hard to concentrate on it. I’m sure that I’m just babbling as I’m so nervous and excited. I want to kiss him. I want to kiss him very much, but I also want him to make the first move.
He lies down on the sofa, arms crossed behind his head. I continue to sit but turn to face him.
“Why don’t you come and lie down next to me?” Henry asks.
I eye the space next to him. Surely it’s too narrow? But as I lower myself down next to him, it seems I fit quite perfectly. I lie on my side, one leg automatically wrapping itself around him, one arm resting on his chest. My head fits in the crook of his neck and shoulder.
From this position, I can smell his the mixture of his cologne and body musk. Has he always smelt this nice? I turn my head to look at him and it’s a big mistake. His face is so close to mine. His eyes are looking at me and I can’t stop myself.
But it’s him that bends forward and our lips brush against each other and I think my heart jumps into my throat because suddenly I’m unable to say anything.
Actually, I do try to say something, but he literally cuts me off midsentence. It’s so absurd that he even chuckles to himself at the action. I don’t mind though. I wanted him to kiss me, very, very badly.
Henry has always been one of my favourite kissers. I’m of the strong opinion that some people are just more compatible with you kissing wise. There’s tongue but not too much tongue. There’s biting but it’s not painful. But what truly matters is that there’s passion.
Henry kisses me and my body goes up in flames. It feels as if I am quenching an unbearable thirst, yet the more I kiss him, the more I think it’s not enough. I crush my mouth against his, my hands pulling at his neck and shirt, pulling him closer to me.
Our breathing is in synch, heavy and strained. Small whimperings escape my mouth as our bodies struggle to find a comfortable position. At some point I am left straddling on top of him, bent down, hands cupping his face, lips swollen but hungry.
I drink in this image of him, propped against some cushions, lying under me. I want him. The lust in his eyes tells me that he wants me too. It’s an understatement, but there is just something between us that both scares and thrills me.
I want this moment to go on forever. To kiss him for hours. “Will I ever get enough of this man?” I think briefly, before being distracted by him pulling my top off.
Of course, I am fully prepared for this moment. Excited even.I giggle instinctively, and Henry asks perplexed “what?” at the strange reaction to him removing my top.
“I wore matching underwear” I blush back at him. Matching underwear is a sign that I really like a person and is proof of my hopes the date would end in a happy way. Henry doesn’t know this of course, but it makes me happy when he sits up, me along with him, and flips my skirt up to check.
I push him back down onto the sofa and lean over. My breasts are spilling out of my bra, the nipples hard and striving for attention. He takes one into his mouth, sucking and nipping. Moaning with pleasure, I press my body closer, almost suffocating him in my bosom. His beard tickles my skin.
We decide maybe it’s time to move to the bedroom.