Decades

Fast Forwarding Through the Formalities

Stevie kicked her shoes off at the door and plopped down on the couch, reaching for her sore feet to rub them. Lindsey sat down close and reached to pull her feet up to him. He began reaching under her dress as soon as she was lying with her back propped against the arm of the sofa.

Swatting his hand, she questioned, "What do you think you're doing, Mr. Buckingham?"

He answered her question with a question, "Did you walk a long way tonight? Seems like your feet are sore."

"Danced a lot, actually. And yes, they are sore. Not sure what that has to do with you trying to get underneath my dress, though," she scolded.

He put on his most well-behaved choirboy face and replied that he was simply trying to help her out of her stockings so he could give her a foot rub without snagging them.

"Oh," she replied, "in that case...." she got up and stood before him, pulling her skirt up to just above where her stockings ended, just a small amount of her lacy red panties visible.

Lindsey let out a groan, just looking at her standing there this way. The creamy skin of her thighs above the dark stockings with the red panties was the cherry on top. She was his fantasy woman.

"Well, what are you waiting for? I think you mentioned getting me out of these so you could give me a foot rub. Hurry it up, mister," Stevie quipped. All too happy to comply, Lindsey knelt in front of her, running his hands on either side of her leg from her ankle to her upper thigh, slowly and sensually. When he reached the top of her thigh-high stocking, he allowed the back of his hand to brush softly against her center, causing her body to react with a sharp jerk.

He smiled up at her with a satisfied gleam in his eyes. She was always so quickly and easily aroused when they were together. He wondered if this was how Stevie was wired. To him, she was magic and sex and music. The way she responded to him was so filled with passion; he hated himself for thinking about it, but he wondered if this was the way she was with other lovers she'd taken. He wasn't sure he could take it if he found out it was more about the sex she craved and less about him.

Taking his time, he rolled down her stocking, a little at a time, kissing his way down her leg as he removed it before moving on to the other leg. He let his hand rest against the red lace, applying a little pressure where her thighs met, just briefly, as he enjoyed her shuddering response. He wanted to take them off of her now but wanted to make tonight last. He was on a date. After all, he needed to make a lasting impression.

Once she was bare-legged, he returned to his seat on the couch and pulled her down to his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and initiated a loving kiss. "I missed you tonight," she told him simply before scooting to the other end of the sofa and throwing her feet onto his lap.

"Then, why'd you go?" was the question on his tongue that he forced himself to swallow.

Instead, he said, "I live to serve," as he began rubbing and kneading her feet, placing a kiss on her manicured toes from time to time.

"Was he a good dancer?" Lindsey asked, cocking his head to the side, making sure to modulate his voice so Stevie knew it was an innocent question. He was being curious, not confrontational.

She tilted her head to match his, "Oh, that feels so good," she encouraged. "And, yes. He was. A very good dancer, in fact. Why?"

"Just trying to feel out my competition, that's all," Lindsey said as he continued rubbing her feet deeply, eliciting a pleased moan from Stevie. "I'm sorry I didn't dance with you more when I had the chance," he said quietly.

"You don't like to dance, Lindsey," she lifted her head from the arm of the couch to look at him more closely.

Lindsey smiled at her a little sadly, "I don't. But I like having you in my arms," he sighed, "and I should have danced because you liked it. I regret the opportunities I didn't take to make you happy. Things might have gone differently if I hadn't been selfish."

His admission touched Stevie, but as she considered his words, she realized this was the difference between her first date of the night and this one. Regrets and sadness and sometimes anger lingererd with Lindsey. With a new man like Edward, she could have a fresh start, and she wouldn't have to revisit past wounds. Even though, deep down, she knew a new relationship wouldn't erase her past, the small regrets or the big ones.

They were both quiet as Lindsey continued to massage her aching feet, relieving a lot of the soreness for her. She watched him, his profile still beautiful to her. "I don't think it's too late." She sat up and ran her fingers through his curls and traced his profile with her finger, "I'd like to think I still have time to dance with you."

He looked at her with his intense blue eyes and smiled hopefully. He pushed a stray blonde curl behind her ear and kissed her temple. It had been years since their breakup, and not a day had passed that he hadn't wanted her in his arms. How did he mess things up with her so badly that he'd gone years barely hearing a word from her? How had he stood not touching her? Or hearing her laugh? She watched him closely as his eyes clouded and wanted to stop him from going to the sad place he seemed to be heading towards.

She searched out his mouth and gave him a hopeful kiss, holding him close to her. His hand stroked the side of her face, and when he pulled back, the sadness in his eyes seemed to have been replaced with promise. She reclined again and wiggled her feet, signaling that he could get back to work on them. He laughed, lifted her foot, and went back to massaging.

Playfully, she ran the foot that wasn't receiving the attention across his lap, lifting her skirt up and wiggling her bottom closer to him as she bent her knees. She felt the bulge growing in his pants beneath her foot and was pleased that it still didn't take much for him to respond.

Lindsey was the most sexually adept man she'd ever been with. Maybe it was because he was the man she'd slept with most often in her life, and he had a familiarity with her body that no one else had. Or perhaps he was just that good of a lover; even in their early days, when things were new between them, he could deeply satisfy her.

Even when they were at their worst, he provided her with mind-numbing, toe-curling orgasms. She'd want to kill him, but with a touch of his talented fingers or a brush of his lips, all was temporarily forgotten except the way his body made hers feel. Their personal lives had been full of problems, but his uncanny talent for satisfying her had never been an issue.

Though, maybe it was the issue. One of the reasons Stevie hadn't walked away from Lindsey completely was because of that primal attraction to him. It's like how baby birds imprint on their mothers; something weirdly biological seemed to have happened with Lindsey and Stevie, where they were imprinted on each other.

They'd have fallingouts, and they'd want to kill each other. They'd hurt each other badly but couldn't just walk away. They'd rather provoke each other than leave each other alone. They couldn't just let things be. The love the two of them shared was deliciously cruel. Leaning into it again was probably a mistake, Stevie thought. But, an unavoidable one, she thought as she climbed into his lap, straddling him.

Lindsey watched her closely, gauging how she wanted him. He could read her desires so well. They had excellent nonverbal communication on stage and in conversations, but never more than when they were physical with each other. Stevie returned his intense stare.

For a long moment, they asked and answered with their eyes. Silently agreeing on the direction they both knew this night would take. Stevie softly placed her lips on Lindsey's, slowly parting them and encouraging him to take the lead. He didn't hold back; he kissed her in a way that had always made her stomach flip.

"I usually don't put out on the first date, but for you, I'll make an exception," Lindsey teased. Stevie rose and took Lindsey by the hand and led him to the bedroom.