Free Mountains Wanted by Phoebe Alexander Page B

hands, thick and
tan, grazing her curves. She remembered how he looked the next morning
when they awoke, limbs still entangled. When he finally stumbled out of
bed, he was bleary-eyed as he pulled his boxers over his bulging calf muscles
and up his taut thighs. She remembered how they stood pressed against each
other at the door, their bodies resistant to the layers of fabric separating
their skin. She’d rested her head on his shoulder as he embraced her,
kissing her softly as he turned the door handle, whispering goodbye. Last
week at this time, she thought that goodbye was final. She’d given up hope of
ever seeing him again, but now she was expecting him to arrive at her house in
just a few hours. She felt like she was stepping off a roller coaster: disoriented,
but thrilled.
    Sarah snapped out of her
daydream just in time for a committee vote. She wasn’t sure she even knew what
the vote was for but she decided to diplomatically join the majority. Gotta love academia; can’t even go to the bathroom
without putting it to a vote. She glanced at her watch: 3:45. Fifteen
minutes till adjournment, also known as freedom; she was unapologetically
counting down. When the time arrived, she avoided idle chit chat with her
colleagues, hightailed it across campus, hustled to the parking lot, hopped in
her Toyota and braced herself for navigating the always-snarled Friday
afternoon traffic in the metro area.  
    Finally, three hours
later she was showered, freshly shaven and alone in her quiet, candlelit house.
In all the times she’d had company of the male variety, she wasn’t sure she’d
ever felt this degree of anticipation, evidenced by her thighs quivering and
her heart thundering in her ribcage. She looked in the mirror, running a hand
through her long dark tresses and adjusting her breasts in the chemise to
maximize cleavage. She loved the way her pale skin contrasted with the
silky black fabric. She felt both covered and exposed in all the right places. She
slid on a pair of three inch peep toe high heels in a sultry red to complete
her look. All dressed up and only going to bed , she mused, wondering if
men appreciated these sorts of efforts. More specifically: would James
appreciate this effort?  
    Moments later she saw
his silhouette appear against the sheer curtain that obscured the door to the
back porch. She calmly walked to the door, unlocked it, turned the knob
and was greeted by a flash of his incorrigible boyish grin. But the grin
immediately dissolved as soon as he soaked up the image of Sarah in her black
satin gown.  He looked genuinely surprised; perhaps stunned was a better
word. “You look...” he struggled to find the right words, “amazing...” was what
he settled on. His voice was barely a whisper as he drew her into his
arms.
    She lifted her chin and
caught a glimpse of his blue gaze before her eyes closed and her lips brushed
against his, gently parting for his tongue to have his first taste of her. She
heard him deeply inhale her scent. I think my question of him appreciating
my efforts has been answered , she thought victoriously. There were other
thoughts trying to bubble up as well but she pushed them down, choosing instead
to think about why they were still standing in what was essentially the laundry
room.
    She stumbled backwards a
bit, forgetting for a moment that she was wearing heels. She burst out laughing
at her own clumsiness, which in turn made James laugh, and then they were
standing there, mutual laughter ringing through her empty house. Wow, that’s
either one hell of a way to diffuse the intensity or it just fucking killed the
mood , Sarah observed. She hoped for the former as she led him down the
hallway and up the stairs to her bedroom, which had been prepared with just the
right amount of candlelight, scent, and soft music.
    James had regained his
composure during their trek upstairs and upon glancing down at Sarah again, his
attention was diverted to the lace