Naked Came the Stranger - By Penelope Ashe Page 0,35

It was second nature to check a building before entering, even your own home, and he had forgotten.

"Hello, miss," he said. "Are you lonely?"

"I thought you might keep me waiting forever," she said.

He cupped her hand in his and she squeezed. Later they sat opposite each other at a small candlelit table, staring into each other's eyes, holding long wordless conversations. They didn't touch the filets. Mario felt the electricity when their fingers touched.

"How much longer are you going to make me wait, Mario?"

He took her hand and they moved out the door and down the carpeted corridor. The room door was ajar. Giant orange crysanthemums glowed like a sunset from a vase on the coffee table. Next to the bed two bottles of Pinay '61 were chilling in a glistening wine cooler heaped with crushed ice. Charlie had thought of everything.

He turned then to face Gilly. She kicked her shoes off and stood in front of him, her arms outstretched. He reached for her and folded her into his arms. Their lips met, hard and fierce at first, gradually relaxing into a soft, sucking pucker. Her head came barely to his shoulders. Without breaking the kiss, he reached down and pulled her up, his arms circling her legs just below the round of her hips. They stayed this way for moments, and then, scooping her into his arms, he gently carried her to the bed.

They lay side by side, still clothed. His hands played up over her breasts and she shuddered. Then he felt a shock as her knee, gently but insistently, pressed up into his groin. Her hands stayed behind his neck, her fingernails softly tracing up and down the nape. He turned her yielding head and, taking the lobe of her ear in his mouth, he sucked it between his lips, licked it with his tongue. Then he moved his head higher, pressing his tongue into her ear. She gripped him tightly, her knee working against his crotch, her body moving now in an undulating rhythm.

"Wait with me a second," he murmured, kissing her softly on the lips again.

He rose from the bed and crossed the room. He undressed quickly and turned to face her. She came to him and, as he reached out, she pirouetted on her toes and came into his arms backwards. His hands clasped her breasts. She looked up at him over her shoulder.

"Unzip me," she said. "Please."

He slowly pulled the zipper down to its nesting place in the round of her back and, with a quick movement, she stepped out of the dress. She stooped, snatched up the dress, dropped it on a chair. Then, her hands clasped childlike behind her back, she turned to face him.

She was wearing no bra and her firm small breasts stood erect, her little pink nipples already hard from desire, pink-white peaks rising from the residue of her tan. So much like the dream, so close to, the dream. She had the supple body of a long-distance swimmer, so slim, so frail compared to what Mario had known.

"Come, Mario," she said, "come with me."

She took his hand and almost shyly led him to the bed. She snuggled to him as he moved his lips and tongue along the hollow of her shoulder and neck. He circled her nipples with his tongue, never touching until impatiently she thrust them into his mouth. Their fever mounted and their bodies moved together as he unsheathed her from her panties.

"Now," she gasped, "now."

It was a plea and a command, and he obeyed. It was almost over before it started. Her willingness, her desire, had caused him to explode almost as soon as they joined. He leaned heavily on his hands, praying for strength. Her hips kept moving and she stared up at him, her eyes clouding. Was it disappointment? And then, almost as it disappeared, he felt his manhood growing again inside her and he smiled down at her.

"What's the matter, Gilly?" he said. "Didn't you know about Italian lovers?"

"Shhh," she said.

A few moments later he felt her climax, and again, and a third time before he exploded again and collapsed into her arms, kissing her hands, her breasts, her neck, her cars, her mouth. He felt her going to sleep and he let her go and the last thing she said was - "You're not afraid of me any more, are you, Mario?"

He woke to a cold feeling on his feet. Gilly, her hair bobbing freely, was splashing champagne