Home for the Summer, Chapter 5

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Home for the Summer

 

Chapter 5

I wake bit by bit, the room and the day coming into focus by degrees.  Still drowsy, I turn and reach for her, but she’s not next to me in our bed. Sitting up slowly, I stretch, remembering she hadn’t come up before I fell asleep. I scratch the scruff on my face, not bothering to look out the window to see it’s still pissing raining. Sighing, I stand and turn towards the door, stubbing my toe against a bedpost. Swearing, I fall back onto the bed holding my throbbing foot.

Home for the Summer

All works posted are original stories. As such, they may not be copied or used without author's express permission.

Home for the Summer

 

Chapter 1

 The breeze has been competing with the humidity all morning and is finally winning. Standing on the balcony, my hips pressed against the black iron railing, I let the cool air tip my head back. With my dress swirling around my ankles, tickling my skin, I breathe in the sweet air, smiling into the breeze. We’re finally here, on Italy’s sunny coast, for the next three months.

My Girl

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My Girl

The air conditioner is humming so loudly in the window I almost didn't hear the knock on the door. It's been so unrealistically hot for this time of the year that I was able to coerce the landlord into putting in the ancient machine. Living in the attic of an old house that's been converted into student apartments means that I'm never too cold in the winter, but the end of spring term can't come fast enough.

The Letter

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Note: Special thanks to The Expert for information I wouldn't otherwise have found. This story is the sequel, of sorts, to The Panties.

The Letter

Hey my baby,

First, I hope all is okay with you and work is going alright. I know things are difficult there right now. Chin up, I’ll be back in a few months, and things will get easier. I’m missing you too, can’t wait to crawl into our bed and next to that luscious body of yours.

Panties

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Panties

The day had been hotter than hell; the kind of day I love. I spent the afternoon at the pool, soaking up the burning rays of the sun so now, walking in the house, I smell like coconut suntan oil and chlorine. I wish they made a perfume combining these two smells.  I go into the kitchen and over to the fridge, grabbing a couple bottles of beer. I open one immediately, taking several mouthfuls before I finally lower the bottle and continue on to the bathroom for a shower.  If it weren’t for having to get the chlorine out of my hair, I wouldn’t bother with a shower at all.

I begin to strip as I walk through the house, pulling the soft white cotton shirt over my head.  I throw my towels and shirt in the hamper in the bathroom and turn the shower on before peeling off my swimsuit.  I hang the suit up for now; I’ll rinse it later. I take a few more swigs of beer. I’m not much of a beer drinker; normally, I only drink it during the summer at block parties and cookouts. But after an afternoon at the pool and what I have planned for later, one or two beers are perfect.

Black Stockings

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Black Stockings

She heard him unlock the door to her apartment. She’d dropped off her key that afternoon, telling him to stop by after ten. This was not his first time at her place, but they'd never talked about exchanging keys, much less offer one. It was a new development, one to be taken slowly.

They'd met a few months ago through friends. Neither were looking for a relationship or a change in relationship status, but there was no denying they clicked. They met for conversation and sex, brilliant and erotic, always varied and, more often than not, a test to their stamina.

Hunger

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 Hunger

Her hunger for him catches her by surprise, often when she least expects it and mostly when it is inconvenient, like when she’s grocery shopping or driving. She’ll hear his voice whisper her name, the way he does when he is in the midst of an orgasm, and heat floods her body, flushing her cheeks and catching her breath. Her nipples tingle in awareness and the feeling of heaviness settles in her pussy as her clit becoming a hard nub that rubs slightly against her soft, cotton boy shorts.

I Can't Talk

 

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I Can't Talk

 Call me when you get home. I can't talk, but I can listen.

I get his text on my way home from the grocery store.My heart begins to race. I know what the text means. I pull into my parking spot a little too fast and slam the car into Park. I almost choke myself with the seat belt in my haste to get out of the car. I thank God my groceries are in the eco-friendly mesh bags and not simple plastic ones that would have surely ripped with my rough handling of them. I quickly let myself into my house. I hang my keys on the key rack next to the door and slip my shoes off. I go through the bags, gathering the items that need to be refrigerated or placed in the freezer. The rest can wait.