She took another look in the rearview mirror and freshened her lipstick. She wanted to look nice for this first meeting. The headlights from passing cars shone just enough for a quick glimpse of herself. She decided she looked presentable. She wore a causal, summer dress. Her friends teased her that she dressed too conservatively, but she felt comfortable and a little sexy. She had discovered through this online relationship that she had a very passionate nature. He had the chance to discover her passion as well, so looking conservative was sort of a tease, hiding her sensuality that lie just beneath the surface.

He had picked the place to meet. She liked it immediately when she arrived. It wasn't too crowded, and the people there seemed to be having a good time. Sounds of laughter and glasses clinking came from the bar area. The lighting was soft and a little hazy. The atmosphere was friendly. It felt nice and cozy.

She stepped in further, scanning the booths, looking for him. When she didn't see him immediately, she fought a small jab of nerves that he might not show up. She turned to look at the bar stools, searching every face. A presence slipped up behind her. She caught the scent of fresh, clean skin with a hint of polo cologne. She knew it was him. She smiled and turned as he whispered,

"Are you looking for Yogi?"

"Are you looking for Boo Boo?"

They both quietly laughed at the pet names they had adopted for one another. They hesitated a moment, fitting the person with the personality they had shared so much with online. He led her to the table where he had been waiting. She was pleased he held her chair - she liked being treated like a lady. He commented that she was fifteen minutes late, and he was wondering if she had stood him up. She didn't hear all of his words. She was too busy looking at his eyes and remembering all the fantasizing they had shared over the months. She was daydreaming about the hot tub story when she suddenly realized he had asked her what she would like to drink. She did a quick check and said anything on tap was fine.

He was wearing a green golf shirt and jeans, casual and sexy. She wondered if these were the jeans she had made "tight" during some of their discussions. He stopped talking and was just looking at her. His silent stare made her anxious. He reminded her she had a habit of biting her bottom lip when she was nervous. He made a joke that she was already flirting. She blushed. She hadn't meant to, not yet, anyway.

He was so easy to talk to and great company. They talked about sports, argued what team was better, laughed about children's antics, and how nice a place the restaurant was. They even commiserated over all the changes they were going through. The conversation flowed easily. They laughed together as old friends. He touched her hand a few times as he talked. It was exhilarating, but she pretended not to notice. She was reluctant to let him know the effect he had on her.

She excused herself to the ladies room to freshen up after the long drive, and when she returned, a small band was playing. He said he had heard them before and they were pretty good. She listened and agreed. They cranked out familiar tunes, a great mix of old and new. The kinds that make you remember when and have you wanting to sing along.

Couples flocked to the dance floor. It was small and filling up quickly. They watched for a while, giggling at a guy dancing the Funky Chicken. Another guy had a bad toupee and was wearing Saturday Night Fever pants. They reminded each other they had similar outfits in the back of their closets. The band played a mellower tune, and he asked her to dance. She was a little hesitant but gladly accepted. She was enjoying his company so much.

He held her tentatively, wrapping one arm around her and holding her hand with the other. They shyly smiled when they touched. His hand on her back pulled her a little closer. She was glad her feet just took over, matching his steps without thought. Before the song ended, she was pressed against him. She loved the smell at his neck and the movement of his body. Steady heat was building between them. The music ended. They returned to their table and ordered fresh drinks.

They talked quietly. There were sexual innuendos and flirty glances and the mood changed from casual to sensual. She was definitely attracted to him.

The band played another slow song and they got up to dance. This time he pulled her close from the start, and she fell into his embrace. They danced and the sexual tension increased. She leaned back to look in his eyes, and they kissed softly, as if rehearsed. Their lips were damp and they skimmed smoothly together. The connection ended, but they held their faces close together, breathing against one another.

The song stopped and they pulled apart, a bit embarrassed. They returned to their seats, holding hands. He moved his chair closer to hers and sat, just quietly looking. She leaned over and stole a kiss. Her tongue darted out, briefly touching his lips. She pulled back, not wanting to embarrass him in a public place. She shivered thinking about the possibilities of the evening.

The band broke into a smaller group, just piano and guitar players. They played soft jazz. It was quiet and airy and it made her a little dizzy. She doodled on a cocktail napkin. For some reason, she always doodled paisleys, she never knew why. She glanced up at his hazel eyes then wrote, "I want to feel your mustache on my neck". She turned the napkin toward him. He blushed as he read it. She was afraid she'd said too much, until he grabbed the pen and began writing. He turned the napkin to her. She read, " I want to bite that bottom lip of yours". Her belly fluttered and she grinned. Writing notes on cocktail napkins could be fun.

Two guys came up to the table. They were friends of his. He introduced her and she shook their hands. He invited them to sit. It was clear they had been drinking awhile, but she enjoyed the stories the three of them shared. His friends tried to embarrass him with bawdy drinking tales. He just laughed. She could see him relax. Seeing this side of him made him seem a little more real.

She wrote on the note and slipped it under his hand as he was talking. It read, "Can I lick and bite your neck, right now?" He didn't miss a beat as he glanced down at the note and continued to talk. But he did smile, and it was enough for her to know he was enjoying the game.

His hand touched her thigh under the table. The warmth of it penetrated the thin, cotton material covering her leg. He squeezed the muscle and then left his hand there. She tried to remain calm, even though it drove her wild. He was teasing her and she liked it.

He slid the napkin to her as he joked with his friends. She was sure they noticed, but that made it more exciting. The note read, "If you bite that lip again, I'm going to move my hand up your leg." She hiccoughed and felt the blush rise up her neck. His lips broke into an evil grin, and she smiled, then bit her lip. His eyes twinkled as his fingers crawled up her thigh.

She squirmed in her chair and shifted toward the table, thinking his hand would stop, but he kept inching higher. Slowly, he worked his way up her leg, teasing her. She put her hand on top of his. He squeezed her thigh. She pulled his fingers back playfully. He laughed just a little too hard at his friend's joke. She knew he was proud of himself for getting to her.

He let go of her thigh and turned his hand over, palm up, to hold hers. He had thick, strong hands; she wondered how they would feel on her breasts. Her nipples itched just thinking of it. She scratched her nails up and down each of his fingers and across his palm. He squeezed her hand tightly and pulled it over to rest on his crotch. She was shocked at his boldness with his friends close by. He pressed his hand on top of hers, pushing it down against his bulge. She relaxed her hand, letting him be the guide. His eyes grew dark as his penis lurched beneath their fingers.

His friends stood to leave, and he pulled his hand away to shake their hands, but he didn't get up. She giggled and kept her hand where it was.

Both of his hands rested on the table. He pretended not to know she was still touching him. She applied a little pressure and moved her hand up and down. She rubbed the rough jean material and teased along the zipper with her nails. He couldn't ignore it anymore. His hips pushed up against her palm. He reached under the table for her hand again. He pressed it against him once more, and gently raised her hand up to his mouth. He kissed the back of her hand with warm, soft lips and rubbed his mustache along the knuckles, then returned their hands to the table.

The world may see how their eyes turned dreamily to each other, but only they new the secret cause under the table. She couldn't be eye to eye like this for very long. He might see too much, and she needed to stay in control. Luckily, the rest of the band was returning, so she looked to the stage.

He slipped another note under her glass. It read, "I need to hold you against me." She rubbed her forehead, and unknowingly, played with a curl that had escaped. He read the edginess in her gesture. It pleased him.

He took her hand to dance again. She liked being led to the dance floor. The small tiled area was no longer just a dance floor - they had turned it into their own seductive playground. She shivered thinking about his embrace. He made a silly attempt to twirl her into his arms. They laughed as her head got tangled up under his arm. They tried again, only this time she twirled gracefully and nestled against him. They held each other in a perfect fit. Every body part slid into a groove, and they swayed with the music.

She was acutely aware of the softness of his neck against her cheek, the roughness of his chin resting at her temple, and the masculine scent of his cologne. Her breasts tingled as her nipples stiffened. His chest tightened against hers. She looked up to meet his gaze. He stared into her brandy-colored eyes and then softly kissed her forehead. His mustache tickled her piqued skin.

His eyes flickered with a smile. The intensity overwhelmed her. She leaned into his shoulder. His hand tightened around her waist. It was comforting. She slid her hand to the small of his back where it fit easily in the dip above his ass. She dug in, pulling him to her. His hips relaxed against hers.

The floor might have been crowded, but they didn't know it. They were alone in their private dance. He released her hand and cupped her face, bringing it to his. They kissed softly. Her breath hitched and then swished out in a long sigh, like she'd been holding it for a week. She battled to remain calm and to maintain her control. She was afraid of getting close, but his touch was mesmerizing.

His forehead glistened with a fine sheen of sweat. His palms were moist and his fingers shook a little. It reassured her to know he was as nervous as she. His groin pitched against her and sought her out whenever she backed away; he tightened his hold, so she couldn't. The throb of his cock was palpable. She leaned into it, enjoying something she hadn't in a very long time.

The music stopped. They eased apart. They cleared their throats and smiled, then reluctantly returned to their seats. An unspoken need to leave immediately loomed between them. Their eyes met and they blushed at silent thoughts that were obvious.

She suggested an appetizer to get things started. He said things were way past start. His humor eased the tension. She scribbled a note and slid it to him while he was distracted motioning to the waitress for menus.

He caught her as her hand slipped back into her lap. It was darker than it had been earlier and he used the candle on top of the table to read what she had written. "I want to take each of your fingers into my mouth and suck on them." He looked up grinning, letting her know he wouldn't object. He swallowed hard as he took the pen and wrote, "I want to suck on your nipples and tease them with my tongue." The air whooshed out of her lungs again

He was getting to her, and he knew it. She decided if he was going to play hardball she could to. She waited till the waitress approached the table and then slid the note over. He quickly read it and tried to order potato skins without seeming rattled. She giggled in triumph, knowing the "I want to use my hand to guide you into me" was enough to shake his control.

The waitress took his order, surely suspecting something, but she had no way of knowing the game of seduction that was being played. He waited until they were alone before penning his next line.

She leaned back in her chair, believing she was winning the game, until she read his: "I want to fuck you, now!" Her control wobbled. She rushed into conversation. They both knew the reason. The note lay conspicuously on the table, ignored for now.

He talked about his home with his sons, sounding like a proud papa. He had wonderful insight into his boys. He was committed to family. They had that in common. It was good to know. They both placed family first, always. Talking about everyday things was nice, and it allowed a break from the heat of the evening. He was making her crazy, and she suspected he was having his own share of heebie-jeebies. Besides, prolonging the night had its advantages.

He excused himself to go to the men's room. She was a little tense from the excitement, but it felt good. She tried to relax. She took some deep breaths and rolled her shoulders. She stretched her neck and then looked around. Damn, he'd left another note without her knowing! She read it. "I want to wake up with you next to me." She bit her lip and rubbed her forehead. Now he was winning the game, and winning big time.

She scrawled out a response before he returned to the table. The waitress brought their food. When he got back he raised the note and read, "I want to fall asleep with your naked body against me." He growled. They ate in comfortable silence, stealing glances above the candlelight. His knees bumped hers under the table.

Their fingertips touched as they reached for the same potato skin. The contact sizzled. She playfully smeared some of the sour cream on one of his fingers. They laughed. She watched his tongue deliberately lick his finger. His finger disappeared into his mouth as he sucked on it. Their eyes met. She licked her lips. He puckered his. She looked sultry. It made him hard. Her nipples stiffened and jutted out as she shivered. He noticed.

The game of seduction intensified. She wasn't sure who was winning now, but she was certain there wouldn't be a loser. It felt right to let him inside the protective wall she had formed around herself a long time ago. She didn't mind giving in some. His own carefully built façade seemed to be tumbling like Jericho, as well. It was good to trust again.

They skirted around the issue of why their marriages didn't work out. They shared enough information to be acutely aware of the pain each had suffered. There was an unspoken warning that neither wanted to be hurt again. They both understood the chance they were taking to open up and trust. Their attraction allowed them to take that chance, willingly. She grabbed the pen and wrote, "Let's just relax and enjoy this time together." He took her hand in his and they did.