One… Eva

FullSizeRenderThe stage light caught his shock of copper hair and the moisture glistening on his lips, his eyes tightly closed as his fingers picked expertly at the strings, his high voice cracking ever so slightly with emotion as he sang the beautiful lyrics.

I was mesmerized.

My friends were talking, but I had ceased to listen long ago.

All I was aware of was him.

This beautiful boy, with the whitest, clearest skin I have ever seen, and his brilliant mess of red hair, had captivated me completely.

His sweet voice, ranging from deep and throaty then soaring high and melodious, hitting every note to perfection, made every hair on my body stand up.

Watching his lips move amidst his tawny red stubble, and his face betraying the deep sad emotion of his song, I felt shivers run down my spine.

The song ended.

He opened his eyes and smiled at the audience, it lit his face up. He looked like a young angel.

His smile made me fall in love.

I am back at the bar. Alone this time.

It has been a week since I first saw and heard him. He sits on his stool, guitar across his lap and adjusts the microphone. He looks at ease, the stage is his home.

His fingers reach down and lift a glass of beer from his feet to his lips and he takes a long drink, almost draining the glass.

“Hi guys, um… hope you like this one…”

He begins to play his guitar, fingers nimble and fast as he strums out a fast paced melody and his throaty south English accent raps out a rapid and angry rhythm.

His head shakes from side to side along with the beat, and he occasionally slaps the side of guitar with his palm, which makes my breath catch in my throat.

I wonder does he slap during sex too?

Someone with this much passion must be an amazing lover.

The next song is soft, sweet and gentle.

How can he switch so quickly from anger to bittersweet sadness?

I am intrigued by him.

Spellbound.

Enchanted.

It is my forth Wednesday night at the bar.

He saw me the second and third times and smiled in recognition. My heart had flipped in my chest.

As he sits this time, he raises his glass of beer in a cheers gesture towards me. I smile shyly and lift my red wine in return. He grins at me. I blush and smile back.

I am finishing my drink. He has left the stage after completing his set.

As I drain my glass, I feel a presence at my side and look up.

“Hi, red? Yes?” and he offers me another glass of wine, puts his beer down on the table, “May I join you? I’ve seen you here every week, thought I owed you a drink at least,” he kind of bounces from one foot to another, nervously.

“Thank you! Please join me,” I struggle to sound more calm and confident than I feel.

My heart is racing. I feel the blood rushing through my veins and pounding in my eardrums. I try to control my breathing.

He sits next to me.

“I’ve been so glad to see you come back every week.”

“Well, why wouldn’t I? I love your music and your voice. And hey, do you write all your own songs?” his gentle voice and hunched up shoulders have made me feel relaxed.

He is nervous!

We talk, about his music, music he likes, music I like, and he offers me another drink.

“I’d really love to, but I’ve had quite a few already and I need to walk home.”

“You can’t walk home alone now! Will you let me walk with you?”

I am stunned and don’t know how to respond.

He holds his hands up in an I’m innocent gesture, “I just want to see you home safe, you’re basically my number one fan!”

I laugh and accept his offer.

Nothing happened that night.

We walked and talked some more. He was funny and sweet and really listened to me when I spoke.

At my door, he leaned in and gave me a hug, and said, “Will I see you at the bar again?”

I gave in to the hug and closed my eyes, wishing he would not stop at the embrace. As he pulled away, I briefly fantasized about grabbing him and pressing my body against his and kissing him long and deep.

“I’ll be there Jay, your number one fan can’t go letting you down, can I?” I smiled, feeling a flash of shame, as if he could tell what I had been thinking about.

“Ace! Have a good week Eva,” he turned and walked back down the road.

I let myself into my apartment complex and up the elevator to my place. I had the elevator to myself and ran my fingers across my lips slightly licking them, imaging his lips on mine.

I was desperate to get inside my apartment.

I tore my coat off as soon as I closed my door went straight into my bedroom.

Sitting on my bed against the headboard I slipped my jeans and underwear down over my hips and threw them onto the floor. My fingers sank deep inside myself, I was wet and hot and more aroused than I had been in months. My other hand slipped up under my top and stroked my breast under my bra. Sliding my fingers inside the bra cup, my fingers found my nipple hard and erect. I pulled on it as my fingers worked on myself between my legs.

I knew this was not going to take long, as I pictured his face buried between my legs were my hand was, his shaggy red hair contrasting against my smoothness.

I cried out as I felt my orgasm flood over me, my head turned against the headboard, lost in the ecstasy of the moment.

Wednesday.

All I can think about is tonight at the bar. I want to look good for him, so I leave work early and rush home to prepare.

Lying in the hot bubble bath, I think of his lovely, young face, his throaty voice, with that accent that drives me crazy.

I know he is young, 24 compared to my 32, but I don’t care.

I still look good… slim, toned, fit.

I could teach him things.

Again, as I have done every day since last week, my fingers sink down and I come, very quickly, splashing water over the edge of the bath.

He goes through his usual routine before starting to play. Sits, adjusts, drinks.

He looks up and smiles at the audience, his eyes searching until they land on me.

“Hi guys, tonight this first song is for my number one fan, they know who they are…”

I breathe in quickly, I can’t believe he said that!

He begins to play what I told him last week was my favourite song of his.

As he sings he constantly raises his head from the guitar strings to meet my eyes.

I feel heat and pulsing between my legs, I squirm in my seat.

As the song finishes he smiles his angelic smile right at me and I notice some people glance over in my direction.

“Hey! Great to see you!” he places a glass of red wine in front of me and sits. His face is beaming with happiness.

His hair looks messier than ever and I look into his eyes, the palest sea green/blue I have ever seen framed by long, feathery, strawberry blond eyelashes.

I want him so badly.

I reach out my hand and touch his arm. He glances down at my hand and smiles more.

“Thanks for playing that song. That was amazing,” I tell him and squeeze his arm gently.

He puts his hand over mine and runs his fingers over my knuckles, “I wanted to do something as a way to say thanks for your support.”

As our drinks are drained he looks sideways at me, from underneath his flop of hair his eyes look shy, “So, home again? Can I walk with you?”

Again we never run out of things to talk about as he walks me home.

A crack of thunder rings out overhead and, out of nowhere, hard heavy rain plummets down onto us.

“Fuck!” I scream and start to run.

He grabs my hand and runs with me. My apartment block is within sight and we fall inside the main entrance door. Looking at each other, we burst out laughing. We are completely drenched and breathless. His hair is plastered to his head, his tee-shirt and hoodie dark with water.

“Look, I can’t send you back out like that, come up and dry off and wait for this to pass,” I say it before I think.

He nods, dripping water onto the floor from his hair, “Yeah, thanks.”

Inside my apartment I peel off my light coat and he does the same with is hoodie. His tee-shirt is stuck to his body like a second skin. I bring him a towel and he pulls his shirt up over his head and dries himself off.

I notice his eyes are locked on the front of my dress and, glancing down, I see why.

My light cotton fabric has been made transparent by the rain and my lacy bra is clear underneath it.

“Your jeans,” I say.

“Huh?” he is startled out of his trance and looks down. The hems of his jeans are dripping onto my floor. “Crap, sorry Eva!” and he kicks off his sodden sneakers and tugs his jeans off, leaving him in his baggy boxers, wrapped in a towel.

I take the clothes from him and throw them in the dryer.

I turn back and see he is looking at me again, this time is eyes are clouded over with desire.

I slowly unzip my wet dress, slip it off to fall to the floor, and stand before him in my underwear. The rain was so strong it soaked through the light lace, and my nipples are hard and cold and very obvious. I reach behind and open the clasp and allow my bra to fall from my shoulders.

His mouth is open and his eyes are locked onto me.

I step towards him and take the towel from his hands.

I begin to dry his hair with it, aware that the motion is making my breasts jiggle and I smile to myself as I see his erection begin to rise in his boxers.

His hands are on my breasts, both of them, and he groans out loud as he pinches my nipples.

I grab his head and bring it down to kiss my mouth, opening it for his tongue. He tastes of the beer he drank and I lick his tongue and lips, feeling his stubble tickling my tongue.

His hands cup my bum, he lefts me up and I wrap my legs around him, my arms around his neck.

“Where?” he breathes against my mouth.

I point at my bedroom door and he carries me in.

Copyright, 2014 illicitthoughts.wordpress.com

All rights reserved.

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12 thoughts on “One… Eva

  1. This is amazing, wow! I sang that Roberta Flack song, Killing me Softly, the whole time I was reading it 😉 Your character development is beautiful and has an easy, natural flow… love the build up. I can’t wait to read more about these two!

    Like

  2. Oh, my. I thoroughly enjoyed this 🙂 Shaggy-haired musicians are a weakness of mine. You did a wonderful job building up the sexual tension. Looking forward to reading more of your work!

    Like

  3. Reading your stories, I just keep wanting them to go on and on. It leaves a lot to the imagination, which is excellent writing. Beautiful. 🙂

    Like

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