Wine Night

The doorbell rang.  She glanced at her watch and frowned, before making her way back downstairs.

‘Sorry.  I’m early.’

‘You’ll have to come back.’

She made as if to close the door in his face, then laughed.  He rolled his eyes.

‘I didn’t realise the tube would be so quick.’

She stood aside to let him pass.

‘There’s a reason most people use it.’

He held out a bottle.

‘I wasn’t sure if it was a wine night…’

They went through into the kitchen.

‘It’s cold.’

‘It has been chilled.’

She smiled.

‘Plastic OK?’

‘Yuh.’  That drawling affirmative.  ‘Anything.’

He stood near to her as she poured out two cups, his scent masculine and fresh.  As he turned away and took up position resting against the sideboard, his belt buckle brushed against her hip.

‘Here.’

‘Thank you.’

So polite, always.  She wondered if he would fuck politely.

Might I do you from behind?

A little faster, please.

‘Can I help?’

‘No, no, not much left to do.  Thanks.’

She set about deseeding the peppers.  Neither spoke for a moment.

‘I know I’m not doing it right,’ she said.

‘No, no, I’m learning.  You’re the professional.’

A pause.

‘Who else are we expecting?’

Such a little word.  She listed the names; he moved closer.  She tried to concentrate on the knife, on keeping the movement long and smooth.

‘Here…’

He closed his hand over hers; the chopping motion slowed, then stopped.  She could feel his belt buckle digging into the small of her back, his breath warm on her neck.  She turned her head a fraction.  His other hand was at her hip, her waist, lingered on her stomach to trace small circles, gathering fabric, flesh on warm flesh.  She laughed.

‘What is it?’

‘No, nothing, it’s – it tickles.’

‘Oh – sorry.’

‘No…’

She wanted to laugh; it was what they did.

His hand was on her breast.  She let out a little moan, turned her mouth to his.  He hesitated, moistening his lips.  Don’t say anything, please, just –

First soft, lips lightly brushing.  Now his tongue, warm and strong, parting her mouth, teasing.  She turned into him.  He drew a hair back off her face.

‘I should write and thank TfL.’

‘That’ll be a first.’

They laughed.  His fingers found her nipple beneath the wool of her top.  She gave a whimper.

‘So it is a whine night.’

‘Shut up.’

‘You don’t mean that.’

Another kiss, light and playful.

‘No?’

She fingered his belt buckle.

‘I thought you’d use the knife,’ he said.

‘Oh no, far too precious.’

‘Cutting.’

‘Mmm.’

She slid her hand down inside his waistband, began stroking his erection.  He gasped, grunted almost.  His state of arousal excited her; she wanted him.

‘Yes,’ she whispered into his neck.

‘Yes?’

‘Please.’

He found the zip in her skirt; it fell to the floor.  Her tights and pants, he rolled down, just far enough.

‘Yes?’

‘Fuck me.’

He knew not to speak again.

****

The doorbell rang.

‘Hello!  Lovely to see you!  Come on in.’

She led the new arrival through to the kitchen.  He had taken up position again, by the sideboard, and was adjusting his belt.  She made the introductions.  He smiled, all politeness, and reached for the bottle.

‘Wine?’