The cold winter wind cleared her senses when Paige hit the sidewalk, and she pulled her coat collar up around her neck to shield herself. She looked to her left; her coffee date had wrapped what looked to be a home-made striped scarf around his neck, leaving only his green eyes, crisp against the dull, late afternoon. The rain had let up briefly, promising to become snow if the temperature dropped even just a few degrees.
The coffee shop was only a few doors down, which gave little time to talk, especially given the winter wardrobe barriers. He opened the door for her, and she entered the expected cozy atmosphere: filled bookshelves on every wall, brick, copper, local art for sale, nooks and crannies for secluded conversation.
“Will you find us a seat, while I get the coffee?” he asked, as he unwound the scarf from his neck.
“Sure,” Paige said, smiling in a way that felt awkward to her, but appeared genuine and shy to him. Her ochre-tipped corkscrew curls bounced as she walked away, and he noticed her round behind in the short skirt. The thick wool, cable-knit tights accentuated her strong legs, and he found himself considering what the texture might feel like beneath his fingers.
“How do you like your coffee?”
She considered being cheeky and saying something cliche like, strong, thick, and black…like my men, but it seemed ridiculous rather than ironic, so she skipped it, not knowing what kind of sense of humor this man had. “Just black…a little cream.”
This man…this man…she suddenly realized she didn’t even know his name, and here she was having coffee with him. He could be a serial killer for all she knew. She’d noticed his hands earlier; they’d been long-fingered and clean, possibly manicured, and they looked soft. She wondered what that kind of softness would feel like against her cheek. He wasn’t a laborer, surely. In fact, he struck her as a musician. Those long fingers marked him as a pianist. They also made her mind go to some very dirty places.
She found a secluded table near a window, far enough away from the counter that their conversation wouldn’t be easily overheard. Sliding in, her back against the wall the way she liked it, Paige removed her coat and quickly checked her phone. There was a message from Tracy, asking if she’d had luck finding any nerds at the bookstore. Paige rolled her eyes and sent a quick smiley emoji with a “details later” message. She stuffed the phone back in her purse as he sat two cups of coffee on the table, removed to his coat, draped it over the back of the chair, and sat down. He pushed up the sleeves of his black henley, exposing tattooed sleeves. Paige felt a twinge between her legs…fuck, that’s hot. She forced her eyes up to meet his, and had a sudden thought that he likely had dimples under that beard, and if so, she was toast.
“So…I didn’t catch your name,” she said, raising her eyebrows in interest, waiting his response.
“I didn’t throw it,” he smiled, silently laughing at his on stupid joke.
She laughed, too, even though it took her a few seconds to get it.
“Aaron…my name’s Aaron McCoy, what’s yours?”
“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Paige.”
They talked for some time, about work, and books, and living in the city. In fact they talked through another cup of coffee, dinner at a little Italian bistro across the street, drinks at the pub beside her apartment building, and a glass of wine in her living room.
There on her couch, sitting at opposite ends, facing one another, Aaron took his opportunity to finally feel the texture of those tights. As she told him a humorous story about her upbringing, absently curling her hair around her fingers, he took her foot in to his lap, rubbing his his thumbs against the pad and along the arch. The fabric was soft and warm and thick, just as he had suspected it would be. She didn’t pull away. In fact, her entire body seemed to relax as he pressed his fingers into her feet, ankles, and calves.
They continuing talking, Paige giving no real clue to the effect his touch was having on her, which only encouraged him. He found himself drawn to her laugh, the way her teeth shone against her lips as she smiled. He wondered what she tasted like.
Their glasses were empty, but Paige felt too good to get up and get anything else. She didn’t want him to stop touching her.
“Mmmmm…that feels amazing. It’s been a long time since a man massaged my feet.”
“How long since one massaged your thighs?” The question was forward, and maybe clumsy in its composition, but Paige found him adorable and sexy and just plain wanted his hands on her, wherever he wanted to put them.
“I don’t know that I’ve ever had a thigh massage.”
Aaron sat up straighter and spread her knees apart, moving his body between them facing her. He moved his hands up the sides of her thighs, under her skirt, all the way up to her hips. The texture and weight of the fabric was thinner there and he could feel the heat of her skin pulsing through. He also noticed the catch in her breath as he touched her.
He reached up around her waist, and she shifted to make it possible for him to pull the tights down and off of her, leaving her completely bare beneath her skirt. Putting her tights to his nose, he inhaled her, and noted the instant fire of her chemistry. The smell of her made him hungry.
“May I?” he asked.
He shifted backward and pulled her hips toward him, pushing her skirt up all the way around her waist. He ran his fingers lightly across her lower belly, just above where her pubic hairline would have been, had she had one. Tracing a lined down the front of her, he slipped it between her closed slit, meeting immediately with the small nub of her clitoris. He ran a few tiny circles around it, then licked his finger, and circled it again, until she began to undulate her hips ever so slightly. He leaned down, breathing in her musk, and let his tongue take over.
His beard tickled her thighs and the bit of her ass that peeked through from underneath, and his mustache sent shivers through her from above. She felt like one exposed nerve.
The next morning, Paige entered the office, took off her coat, and put her coffee on the table. She was exhausted and still reeling from the events of last night.
Tracey leaned in the doorway, her face plastered with a wide grin. “So? How did it go?”
“How did what go?”
“How do you know I had a date?”
“Well, you’re smiling and you look like you just rolled out of bed…and well…I kind of figured the two of you would hit it off,’ she scrunched up her shoulders and smiled giddily, as if she were about to explode. Her shit-eating grin was almost more than Paige could stand.
“You set that up?”
“Well, I didn’t really set it up…I just showed your picture to a friend, and he thought you were attractive sooooo….I told him what you were up to and just crossed my fingers.”
Paige could have felt taken advantage of just then. But, instead, she opted to simply feel lucky.
“So are you mad? Are you totally gonna kill me now?”
“Maybe…but first, coffee.”