She likes to accuse people of intent, and it is the same in this moment. His knee brushes against hers, bared from the way she sits. It must be a calculated seeking of closeness, it cannot be purely incidental. Is he, just as she is, wondering what it will be like to share a kiss? To be pressed skin to skin, or, less sweetly put: does he already imagine himself in her bed, has he pictured, in detail, what it would be like to get her out of this dress and under him for their mutual pleasure?
She crosses her legs, and has her foot brush against his shin, slow and teasing, and, if he wishes to imagine it this way, purely there by chance.
That he is honoured draws a breath of laughter from her, light and brief, but honest all the same. There is no doubt in her mind that they will end in her bed tonight – if they make it quite this far, and do not end up giving in to one another about halfway there. That he might wish to take it slow for his own sake, or that he had the consideration for her, has not occurred to her yet. The way he phrases what she deems to be excitement – nervous excitement, perhaps, but excitement all the same – only impresses on her how well thought-out her own choice is. He will show an interest in her finding pleasure in turn; that is more than she is naturally inclined to expect of anyone who is not... a bit too close for most people's comfort. She watches him from beneath her lashes. "I will give you the grand tour. It's a clear night, we could have a glass of wine on the balcony."
After they've fucked, of course, and assuming his interest remains so steadfast. It is hard to imagine him fleeing, though, yet she does not know what else to picture. Indifference would be business-like, even if sometimes feigned. Enthusiasm is usually a sign that she is the one doing a great deal of manipulating. That he might meet her as an equal, just as he does now, even after – it is an odd thing to even imagine.
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She crosses her legs, and has her foot brush against his shin, slow and teasing, and, if he wishes to imagine it this way, purely there by chance.
That he is honoured draws a breath of laughter from her, light and brief, but honest all the same. There is no doubt in her mind that they will end in her bed tonight – if they make it quite this far, and do not end up giving in to one another about halfway there. That he might wish to take it slow for his own sake, or that he had the consideration for her, has not occurred to her yet. The way he phrases what she deems to be excitement – nervous excitement, perhaps, but excitement all the same – only impresses on her how well thought-out her own choice is. He will show an interest in her finding pleasure in turn; that is more than she is naturally inclined to expect of anyone who is not... a bit too close for most people's comfort. She watches him from beneath her lashes. "I will give you the grand tour. It's a clear night, we could have a glass of wine on the balcony."
After they've fucked, of course, and assuming his interest remains so steadfast. It is hard to imagine him fleeing, though, yet she does not know what else to picture. Indifference would be business-like, even if sometimes feigned. Enthusiasm is usually a sign that she is the one doing a great deal of manipulating. That he might meet her as an equal, just as he does now, even after – it is an odd thing to even imagine.