Chapter 2

The following morning, the sun’s insistent light crept into the bedroom, gently poking at the corners of the curtains. Sandra stirred first, her eyes snapping open with a jolt of reality. She looked over at Paul, his chest rising and falling with the steady rhythm of sleep. For a moment she felt a pang of regret, knowing that she had to wake him and send him on his way.

Her heart racing, she nudged him gently, her voice barely above a whisper. “Paul, wake up.” He stirred, his eyes slowly blinking open. “What’s wrong?”

“You’ve got to go. I’m sorry.” She seemed to be panicking, the anxiety raising the pitch of her voice.

‘Buyer’s remorse’, he thought regretfully.

He sat up with a start, the reality of the situation crashing into him like a wave. He nodded, his gaze lingering on her naked body, still flushed from their passionate night. “Okay,” he murmured, reluctantly sliding out of bed and reaching for his clothes.

She watched him dress, her eyes tracing the contours of his body that she had just explored with such fervour. The thought of him leaving made her stomach clench with a strange mix of fear and longing. She had never felt this alive, this desired. But she had priorities and responsibilities. She had to figure out what this all meant.

He took his time, not wanting to leave the warmth of her presence. But he knew boundaries had to be respected.

With a final kiss that lingered just a second too long he left. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving her in a room that now felt too large, too empty without his warmth. She watched him drive away, her heart aching with a mix of desire and regret.

Throughout the day, as she worked her usual shift at the office, she couldn’t shake him from her thoughts. The mundane act of cleaning seemed almost obscene in comparison to the fiery passion they had shared. She found herself lingering in the places where they had kissed, her mind replaying the feel of his hands on her body, the taste of his mouth. The office supplies and sterile surfaces were a stark contrast to the tumultuous emotions roiling within her.

She found herself sitting in the quiet of the empty conference room, her eyes closed, imagining his arms around her again. Her hand strayed to her neck, tracing the path of his kisses, and she shivered as if his lips were still there, leaving a trail of fire across her skin.

When her shift ended, she drove home on autopilot, her thoughts a whirlwind of desire and doubt. She knew she couldn’t just let this feeling go. Her job, her responsibilities – they all faded into the background as she pulled into the kerb, her mind racing with possibilities.

It was Thursday evening when she finally gave way. With trembling fingers, she picked up the phone and dialled his number. It rang once, twice, and she was about to hang up when he answered, his voice thick with sleep. “Sandra?” he murmured.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she found the words she hadn’t known she had the courage to say. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to kick you out like that.” She paused, her breath catching in her throat. “Can you come over tomorrow night?”

His voice was groggy with sleep, but there was a spark of something else, something that told her he hadn’t forgotten their night together.

“Of course,” he said, the words warm and reassuring. “I’ll be there.”

The next day, she went to work as usual, her mind racing with anticipation of the night ahead. The day seemed to drag by endlessly, her thoughts filled with evening, and the night ahead. The drive home was a blur of excitement and nerves.

Too excited to eat she drew a steaming bath, the scent of lavender bubbles filling the air as she sank into the water. The warmth enveloped her, relaxing her taut muscles and loosening the knots in her stomach. She took her time, scrubbing every inch of her body with gentle, loving strokes. The sponge felt rough on her sensitive skin, bringing it to life, making it tingle with anticipation. She took special care with her breasts, her nipples hardening at the thought of his mouth on them, and between her legs, imagining his fingers exploring her in the same slow, deliberate way she was now.

Stepping out of the tub, she took a moment to appreciate the way the water beaded on her body, like tiny diamonds glinting in the soft light of her bathroom. Despite feeling more self-conscious than usual, she knew that he didn’t care about her lack of curves or her small breasts. He saw her, truly saw her, and that was all that mattered. She dried herself off with a towel, the rough fabric scraping against her sensitized skin.

Standing in front of her closet, she pondered over what to wear. The clothes she usually donned for work were functional but far from flattering, just jeans and a T-shirt.

She delved into the back of her lingerie drawer, her trembling fingers brushing against the silky fabric of forgotten treasures. The sight of the lacy thongs and push-up bras brought back memories of a time when she had felt desired, when sex had been more than a distant memory. Her ex had never appreciated her in such garments, too drunk to care about anything but his own satisfaction. But with Paul, she knew it would be different.

Slowly, she pulled out a set of red lingerie, the fabric so delicate it was almost transparent. The bra cupped her small breasts with a gentle embrace, pushing them up and together, creating a tantalizing hint of cleavage. She fastened it around her ribs so that her nipples pointed straight ahead, like two little soldiers at attention The thong was a matching shade of red, the lace cutting high on her hips and leaving a bare strip of skin that begged to be kissed. It barely covered her, leaving her long, toned legs and tight little ass exposed. She felt a thrill of excitement at the thought of him seeing her in this.

With a sigh she pulled out a dress that had been buried at the back of the wardrobe, a relic of a time when she had felt more like a woman and less like a machine programmed for cleaning. The fabric was soft and silky, a deep red that made her feel bold. It hugged her body in all the right places, with a bust line daringly low, and a hemline daringly high. She hesitated for a moment but then shrugged. ‘What the hell!’

With trembling hands, she slipped it over her head, smoothing it down over her hips. The material clung to her skin like a lover’s embrace, accentuating the curve of her waist and the firmness of her thighs. She stepped into a pair of heels that had seen better days but still had the power to make her feel sexy, desirable. Looking in the mirror, she took a deep breath and tried to ignore the fine lines around her eyes. She knew she wasn’t the young girl she once was, but tonight she would be the woman he desired.

Finally, as a finishing touch, she sprayed herself with deodorant, her hand shaking slightly as she raised it to her chest. The cool mist landed between her breasts, making her nipples pebble even further. She took a deep breath, enjoying the faint scent of vanilla that lingered in the air. It was a small act of defiance, a declaration that she was more than just a cleaner. She was a woman with needs and desires, and tonight she would revel in them.

Her hand hovered for a moment between her thighs, and she couldn’t resist the brief pause, the spray catching the delicate skin of her inner thighs. It sent a shiver up her spine and made her clench with need. She had gone without for so long, but tonight she would not be denied.

As the time grew closer to his arrival, the anticipation grew to an almost unbearable pitch. She sat on the couch, her knees drawn up to her chest, her heart thudding against her ribs like a drum. The house was silent except for the ticking of the clock on the wall, the seconds stretching out into eternity. She had lit candles, placed them around the living room, creating a warm, sensual glow that danced in the shadows. The air was thick with anticipation, charged with the electricity of a coming storm.

The doorbell chimed, sending a jolt of excitement through her body. She took a deep, shaky breath, her hand moving to her chest as if to calm her racing heart. She knew she had to play it cool, not let him see how much she needed this. With a deliberate slowness, she pushed herself to her feet,. She took her time walking to the door, her heart thudding with each step, her body already thrumming with need.

When she opened the door, she found him standing there, a bouquet of flowers in hand, looking as nervous as a schoolboy on his first date. He offered her a tentative smile, his eyes scanning her body, taking in the sight of her simple, yet alluring attire. The candlelight flickered over his boyish features, casting shadows that made him look both innocent and incredibly sexy.

She took the flowers, her pulse quickening as she brushed his hand with her fingertips. The simple touch sent a current of desire shooting through her body. She stepped aside, allowing him to enter, and as he did so, she took a moment to appreciate the way his muscles moved beneath his shirt, the scent of his cologne wrapping around her like a warm embrace. She closed the door behind him.

He looked around the dimly lit room, his gaze lingering on the candles, the soft music playing in the background. “You’ve made this place feel like a sanctuary,” he murmured, his voice thick with want.

She blushed, a small smile playing on her lips. “I wanted it to be special,” she confessed, her eyes dropping to the floor as she felt the heat rise to her cheeks.

He stepped closer to her. “You’ve outdone yourself,” he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate in the very core of her being. He reached out, gently placing his hand under her chin and tilting her face up to meet his gaze. “You’re so beautiful.”

Their eyes locked, and she could see the hunger in his, the desire mirrored in her own. She took a step forward, closing the gap, and before she could second-guess herself, her hands were on his chest, pushing him back against the door. She stood on her tiptoe, bringing her face closer to his, her breath warm and sweet against his skin. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice barely above a murmur.