. . Sal didnt finish the sentence. Kevin leaned forward and pressed his mouth to hers and to his astonishment she didnt pull away. He edged back, releasing her, waiting for the slap that he so rightly deserved. . . .What you really mean. She finished in a whisper. He kissed her again, this time she responded, her lips moving against his. His tongue gently explored her mouth and Sal moaned softly, bringing her arms about his shoulders. When did you say your father would be back he asked between kisses. Any time. She purred as Kevin unbuttoned the dungarees and began to loosen her shirt. Then we shouldnt be caught like this. Kevin whispered No indeed. She replied taking his hand. She led him up the treacherous stairs, a candle illuminating their way. In her room she rested the light on the aging dressing table, its mirrored back filling the room with a ochre glow and he caught a glimpse of cleavage, a hint of breast and Kevins nerves began to tingle. Sal stepped effortlessly out of. It’s getting late, ‘where is he?’ You wonder as you take off your shirt and bra opting for a lacy cool tank top and your favorite bed time shorts. Naked looking down at your breasts you realize how good they look and think you understand why all men obsess over them. You cup your breasts with both hands squeezing them, enjoying the warmth coming from your own hands, you drag your fingers up to your nipples, the memory of him grasping your body with your nipple under his tongue flashes into your mind. You shudder and realize how much you yearn to make love to him once more. But you’re not wearing the tank top for him, no of course not, you’re wearing it because it’s far too hot in your apartment. You smile to yourself half laughing at the little moment you just had to yourself and plop down in front of the TV to watch a movie before he arrives. Just as you get comfortable you hear his familiar knock. But it can’t be him, how did he get into the building. Ah yes, the spare key you cut.
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