An Exception to Compatibility

Oopsie daisy.

I have officially lost my mind.

As I zip up my dress to get ready for the Eltham, all I can think about is Luke taking it off me.

But I have a theory, don't worry. I haven't had a man on top of me in around two years. Which may seem doable, and it is at times. But some nights, I lie in bed, a dripping mess so needy for something to fill me up I'd ask the stranger next door to do the honours. It's worse when I'm at work or on public transport, because my ovaries start scanning the room around me for anything and anyone that could satisfy my needs. I once considered a mildly attractive plumber who came by my apartment to have a look at my sink, to do the job. Or well, the job he was supposed to do plus the other one I had in mind. Me.

I'd also been on plenty of dates recently, with many that just didn't click for me - hence not really leading to anything physical. 

My theory. Luke, with his golden skin, soft dark hair, dark eyes, veiny hands and long legs, is simply a conveniently beyond attractive guy, who happens to match my fantasies. Kind eyes. Dominating. Hot. And I'm guessing well versed in dirty talking.  After resisting the urge to adopt something casual for so long, this attraction is simply amplified hence why I've gone to extremes. Like touching myself to him. That's all. All I need to remember is that I'm not interested in that, regardless of how long I've been without a man's touch. I know it will definitely fuck me over in the end.

The dress I've chosen (approved by Vicky), is a classic perhaps basic choice but I personally think can do no wrong. A little black dress. It's strapless and tight at the top and flowy at the bottom, but short, ending up my thighs. It also lifts the girls a bit, and plunges just enough. I love this dress especially because it goes well with my deep skin tone and I have my nails done so it makes the red shade pop. Which is the same shade of my lipstick, which after applying, I pop into my black mini purse, along with my powder, wallet and phone. After accessorising, I take myself into the bathroom and had a quick scan of myself. 

I have to admit I think I look pretty. Pretty and hot.

Which is what I'm going for. As I smudged my lipstick to blend out the colour a bit more I hear my apartment doorbell ring out. He was here. I hastily rub body oil on my legs and arms to make them glow, spray perfume on my neck and wrists and answer the door.

"Hey, so sorry I'm..." He trails off. 

Mind you, 'he', looks gorgeous. I can't even fathom it, especially given the fact I had been imagining him undressing me for the past hour. He always looks good, but he was dressed in a slightly more casual black suit, with no tie, and underneath a white pressed shirt with one button undone. I had a moment of pervert weakness of wanting to lick the skin that was showing, but quickly recovered. But what made him even more attractive, was the fact that he was dressed in a suit I'd never seen before and had styled his hair instead of it casual yesterday. It was endearing thinking about him trying to look good for tonight. For me.

I realise he's trailed off because he was taking in my appearance. I'd wanted him to think I look good. But the way he was looking at me was causing me to blush hardcore. He looked hungry.

His eyes began at my face taking in my red lips, then took in my little dress, resting for a second on my breasts, before scanning down to the bottom of my dress where my glossy thighs began. He took in my chunky black heels before resting his eyes on my legs again. 

I felt exposed and small. Even in my heels he was towering over me and I liked it. I liked feeling small. Submissive. But I was still a bit nervous. I needed a drink in me.

He gives me a warm smile, as usual not acknowledging the fact that he'd blatantly been checking me out. His demeanour matches his eyes. Cocky but kind.

"Sorry for being late. I had to drop my niece off at my sister's before coming here."

I smile back up at him and lock my door behind me and take a step towards him. 

"Oh no, that's completely fine. I hadn't even noticed." I laugh and I'm wary of the fact that he's watching at my smile.

He breathes in a bit as I get closer and I look up at him not breaking eye contact. We were standing face to face in the hallway, and I couldn't tell you if anyone else was around us. All I can, see, hear and even smell is him. Sexy minty cologne.

He clears his throat, looking like he's about to say something but I can tell he's vetoed the thought in his head. 

"Shall we?" he asks.

In the elevator down we don't speak, and I'm overthinking the fact that I didn't express my observations to him regarding the fact that I think he looked like pure sex. I want him, no, need him to know I think he looks perfect. His hands are inches away from me and I want nothing but them to be on my skin right now.  But a part of me feels a bit down that he hasn't said anything himself. Perhaps he's used to women dressed like this for him. Perhaps I'm one of many he's seen this week. Perhaps I'm caring too much about this.

This kind of thought process is exactly why I'm too sensitive for a casual relationship. I put that thought train on the back burner for now as we stand in silence in the elevator all the way to ground floor.

He still doesn't say anything until we reach the boot of a black BMW sedan, and at this point I've convinced myself he's regretting the whole thing. The doubtful thoughts are so loud in my head, trying to drown out the blaring silence. I break the silence.

"We've stopped? Is the Eltham not a short walk that way?" I ask him, pointing into the darkness.

He looks at me, confused. The lights from the apartment shine on his face and I feel even more shy from how perfect he looks.

"Oh Dela, we are not walking over there that late. Please tell me you don't walk at night alone?" he asks in a concerned tone. The care he's implying is causing a physical reaction that I try my best to ignore.

"Um, sometimes. But don't sorry I can take care of myself." I smile up at him confidently to reassure him but he looks genuinely worried. I guess he won't be having too much to drink tonight. I look down a bit sheepishly and rush to the passenger door of his car because I'm afraid of disclosing the reason why I usually walk. We get in, and it's freakishly clean. It smells like a new car with a mix of him, mint. We sit in the car for a moment and I buckle in.

"I don't own a car anyways." I add but feel embarrassed saying it out loud. I know its not really necessary for my lifestyle, but it seems like one of those life trophies everyone has gathered by at least 22.

His gaze softens at me, not in a sympathetic way but an understanding way - which is more than what I can say for most guys.

"Well, " he says kindly while starting the car, "Any time you need a lift you have my number."

"Thank you very much. And ah yes, thanks to your little reception number mishap, oopsie daisy!" I feign surprise and then giggle. He grins at me and shakes his head before putting his beautiful, large hand on the back of my seat while steering with his other hand to reverse. It shouldn't be hot but it is. We all know it's something to do with the multi-tasking. I tried to focus on the road ahead rather than what my eyes were currently caught on, his large veiny hands. How badly I wanted them cupping my -

"Just letting you know, no one says oopsie daisy anymore. And yes it was a mishap." he retorts teasingly and I grin at my lap.

"Mhm. Yes they do, my best friend Vicky and I use it often. And sure, whatever you want to call it." I tease back.

"Oh my bad then. Oopsie daisy." to which I laugh at and he does too. 

"It was definitely a bonus to see you. Just as it is tonight. Thank you for meeting me."

I brush it off saying he didn't have to thank me and instead thanked him for asking me. But I can't help but smile, it was a sweet thing to say.