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Crisp, fresh air, sharp flecks of hail and snow, and lonesome streets are her only company as she hastens towards the address on her lit up phone screen. She looked it up before she left home, and knows exactly where she’s headed, but she hasn’t seen the person she spoke with before.
He was friendly online, and they clicked in the way that people with a common interest do. It had been enough to conclude they could meet, and what rules to follow.
She rounds the corner, spots the building that’s supposed to be her destination. A brick and mortar row house, dark wooden door, unassuming on the outside. A bike parked in front—just the one. She gulps, suddenly hit by nervousness. It’s become real close now, and it’s her last chance to turn back.
But no, that’s not what she’s about to do. This is something she chose. She wants to be here today. It’s a total stranger she’s about to meet, but they’ll be okay, won’t they?
She’s almost in front of the door now, and takes her hand out of her pocket, flinching at the freezing cold. The bell echoes throughout the house, and she feels her heartbeat fasten; steadies herself.
You’ll be okay. Breathe in, breathe out-
The door swings open, and she’s greeted by a man a head taller than her. Dark brown hair, brown eyes, about ten, maybe fifteen years older than she is. He smiles, and greets her jovially.
“Hey, you made it! Come on in, it’s cold outside!”
She smiles back and feels herself relaxing a bit.
“Thanks, it’s cold indeed!”
She enters, and looks around. Black stone floor, unpainted brick walls. Another bicycle inside, and a living room visible through the wide hall’s interior door. Warm reds, browns, a few very dark, almost black blues dominate the colour patterns of the walls, floor, furniture, and curtains.
“Come in, it’s warmer over there,” he smiles at her, pointing with his arm ahead, showing her the way. She nods, hands slightly shaking when she zips open her coat, and follows him inside.
He’s quite… Normal, for lack of a better word. Almost unassuming. Not too muscled, dressed in a shirt and a woollen sweater, but he’s got a straight posture, and looks back at her to see if she’s coming in. She quickly smiles back at him, and lets her eyes dart around the living room. She spots a guitar, and can’t help herself.
“Oh, do you play the guitar?”
“I do,” he chuckles, pointing at a cd rack right next to her. She spots a CD on top, on which she sees him and two more guys, posing for the cover.
“We play local festivals and bars, have you heard of us?”
She looks at the band again, at their name, and pains her memory.
“I’m afraid I haven’t, sorry.”
“No need to say sorry!” he laughs, patting on the couch while he sits down. She comes closer, heart racing, positive that her armpits are sweating now. To her surprise, and admittedly, somewhat disappointment, he keeps a proper distance in between them. And instead of talking about their deal, he continues their small talk, and mentions a few venues that, at least, she has heard from. She smiles, nods, and engages, inserting a tidbit she knows about one of the cafés close by.
They just… Chat, and after a while, she relaxes her shoulders, realizing she’s been tense all this time.
“Something to drink?” he offers her, and she realizes she’s parched.
“Oh, yes, please. A cup of tea, if you have some?”
“Of course, what tastes do you like?”
“Rosehip?” she tries, and is met with a thumbs up.
“Coming right up.”
He disappears into the kitchen, and she looks around, relaxing more now that she’s temporarily by herself. Her eyes dart around the room, and she mulls over a few thoughts.
He’s not a killer so far, that’s good, she jokes internally, flashing a wry smile to no one in particular. The leather of the couch creaks when she leans back, further looks around, and grinds her legs together. He hasn’t touched her up to now, hasn’t even looked at her inappropriately, from what she tried to discern.
The total lack of talk about it was confusing, to be honest.
They had agreed that they would meet here—that they would fuck, to put it bluntly. This was to be a one night stand; or rather, a one day stand, as it technically was still daytime outside.
Maybe he was trying to put her at ease by not forcing her? She didn’t know. She was new to this. Certainly new to this guy.
Soon, he’s back, and she gets handed a cup of damping tea that smells of rosehip, like she asked. No sugar, but that’s fine. She tries a sip, and it’s hot, but good. She’s happy, relieved even, to have something in her hands, to keep them busy. The warmth soothes her fingers that yearn to grab a pillow and hide herself behind it. He brought a cup for himself as well, and quickly downs it, sitting in silence as she sips from her drink.
She sets down her cup, looks at the guy again, really looks at him now. At his lips, and wonders how they would feel on her. What would he look like naked? How would he touch her?
Suddenly, the silence feels a bit awkward, and she smiles helplessly.
“Thanks for the tea. So, umm, you said your wife was away today?”
“Yeah, she went out after we talked about you coming, as per our agreement.”
“I see. …So, uh, is she, like, a musician, too?”
She cringes inwardly at the question, wishing she could take it back. Small talk felt often so painfully forced when she tried to initiate it, and she wishes she was more natural at it.
“Not really,” he shakes his head, not smiling now. “She is artistic, though. Takes pictures. Not the one on the album, but she has some great work.”
He keeps staring at her, still not smiling, and she nods, reaching for the cup of tea again, to occupy her mouth for a bit.
Suddenly, there’s fingers in her hair, and she starts, looking to the side. Next she knows, he is on her, pulling her body into his, his hands gripping onto her clothing. His lips find hers, and in a reflex, she kisses back, making a shocked noise at his sudden approach when he pulls their bodies flush together. The kiss feels good—he’s clearly experienced, taking the lead, yet doesn’t force her beyond what she allows him to do.
She breathes out softly when he lets go, but stays close to her.
His eyes seek hers, and now he’s smiling again. She doesn’t know what caused his sudden approach. But now she’s at least sure that she’s enough. That he wants her, too.
“Okay?” he asks, and it’s several questions in one word.
Her cheeks blossom red, but she replies with a beaming smile.
“Okay,” she shakily exhales, and takes his hand as he extends it to hers, pulling her up with him. His hand stays on her, travelling down to the small of her back, while he leads her into his bedroom.