whole time, letting it out triggers the feeling to slowly return to the rest of my body. I can’t deny this carnal, animal instinct, I want him and for some unknown reason I can’t begin to fathom, he seems to want me.
I’m running late, I had showered before the Spa, but I hadn’t factored in needing to shower again after to remove the last traces of sticky wax. My legs weren’t too bad, but the waxing has left great red welts across the skin of my under arms and bikini line, what was I thinking? I should have just shaved, seriously what do women see in this?
The ‘beauty’ therapist had given me some calming lotion to apply afterwards, so as soon as I’m out of the shower I lather it on the worst bits, leaving it to absorb as I use my new coconut body butter over everywhere else. It has a fine gold glitter in it which leaves a faint shimmer on your skin, which according to the tub, ‘delicately catches the light and gives your skin a warm glow’. I don’t know about that, but it does compliment the slight tan I have going on.
I pull on the best underwear I can find, which vaguely matches, how I wish I had the forethought to bring my (never previously worn) fancy lace ensemble. Caz bought it for me last Christmas in an attempt to spice up my love life after a particularly drunk, holiday time confession I made to her about how much it was lacking, it was consequently shoved in the back of my knicker drawer never to see the light of day again!
What I wouldn’t give for it now! Oh well, at least this bra is strapless and padded. Slipping on my pale green summer evening dress over the top, I adjust its spaghetti straps and pull the back of the bra up to hoist my cleavage to an acceptable level.
The dress is perfect, an old favourite of mine, it has a fitted silk slip in a slightly darker shade of green, that stops mid-thigh, with a looser, sheer fabric over-lay that stops at the edge of the slip on one side, but flows right down to the knee on the other side; it’s sexy, but classy while also able to cover a multitude of sins. Its low cut front draws attention to my now impressive breasts (albeit it slightly enhanced with the help of the padded bra).
Teamed with white strappy heels and a delicate diamond pendant necklace with matching earrings, I think I’ve pulled of glamorous, yet understated.
My hair is too wavy, but I don’t have time to straighten it as it’s already six forty and I haven’t even done my make-up yet. All I can do is pull it into a ponytail and stick in a white fabric flower clip to hide the hair band and add a little flourish. Just as I’m adjusting the clip and smoothing my unruly hair into place there is a knock at the door. No, no, he can’t be early, I’m not ready yet!
“Err just one minute” I shout out, right just throw on some mascara, you wanted understated, so that’s what it will have to be. One eye down “I’ll just be one minute” I shout re-iterating.
“Take your time, I’m early” comes the muffled reply.
OK, mascara rushed on, luckily without poking myself in the eye with it. A quick spray of perfume, wrists, cleavage, behind the ears and I’m as ready as I can be. One last look in the mirror, make up will do, dress not tucked into pants, good, hair passable, shoes on, I grab my clutch bag and head to the door.
“Ms. Mavers!” Carlos exclaims, his eyes opening wide as he looks me up and down, “you sure as hell scrub up well! You look ravishing!” I smirk, ecstatic at his reaction, if I wasn’t so weak at the knees right now I’d lean forward placing my fingers under his chin and push his gaping mouth shut, instead I settle for simply saying “please, call me Kate”.
“Sorry, Kate” he softly corrects himself, “are you ready to go?” he asks.
“As I’ll ever be” I beam back at him.
Carlos bends his arm and extends his elbow for me to link my arm around, I graciously oblige, lowering my eyes as I do. I don’t often wear heels so the support is more than welcome.
Leading me to the beach front he turns into the French bistro, ooh I