They sprinted to her front door, Remy once again saturated with raindrops. They entered the apartment. Ororo instantly stepping out of her heels, shrinking four inches in stature, unaware of Remy standing oddly on her welcome mat until she took in his appearance. His auburn hair now laid limp, darken from the wetness. He was soaked from head to toe. His maroon cotton shirt clung his chiseled torso, its outlines clearly visible through the fabric. She tried to quickly avert her eyes but her stare did not go unnoticed. His cock sure smile returned. She gathered herself once again, "I may have something for you to change into. I'll be right back." Then she disappeared into what he assumed was her bedroom.
While he waited her return with dry, warm clothes he appraised her abode as he kicked off his Doc Martins. It was a bit small, a counter top and grey carpet divided the kitchen from the living room. The living room was decorated in neutral colors, as if direct from an Ikea catalog.
She returned with her arms out stretched, a stack of clothing and a bath towel in hand. His fingers grazed hers as he took the bundle. "Merci Petite. I 'preciate it," he thanked. "I'll be in my room changing. Knock if you need anything," she tossed over her shoulder as she walked towards her bedroom. Remy's eyes volleyed from left to right, matching the sway of her hips, at last getting a clear view of her round, firm behind. Merde. Dat righ' dere should be illegal.
Ororo shut the door and leaned against it with a heavy sigh. The thought of just a simple door that could easily be opened separating her from the sight of perfected sculpted body and face that was Remy created a hormonal heat to blaze through her. She was determined to smother its flames. She refused to allow her lack of a sex life for nearly the past year and that modelesque stranger revert her back to a horny teenager.
She stepped out to find Remy sitting on her sofa toweling his longish damp hair. His flexing arm called for her attention, muscles barely obscured through the thin cotton of the wife beater he wore with hunter green sweat pants. "I put my clothes on ya counter top dere," he stated pointing to the soggy pile. She took them to the tiny laundry room situated near the entryway. He heard the loud clicks of the dial then the rumble of the dryer to life.
He watched as she strolled over to the kitchen in a loose fitting navy shirt reading NYU, her alma mater and granite grey shorts that hardly reached her thighs. His eyes were glued to her never-ending legs. He wondered what it would feel like to be between them and was sure to discover for himself later.
"So chere, dese clothes belong ta ya?" Remy questioned jokingly as he yanked at the white wife beater. "I cross dress," Ororo replied sarcastically as she entered her kitchen. She was not going to share that she found sleeping in men's wife beaters to be quite comfortable and she definitely was not going to divulge that the sweats belong to her ex, John. She had been meaning to donate the few remaining articles of clothing he left behind. She just hadn't gotten around it yet.
"Sorry, I don't have much here," she called from the refrigerator, "All I have to drink is water, cranberry juice and a bottle Belevedere Jean gave me as a welcoming gift." Remy's trademark 100-kilowatt smile shone. "Merde chere, dat juice an' Belvey sound like a good idea ta me."
Ororo placed his cocktail over a paper napkin on the tan coffee table before sitting on the opposite side of the sofa. Remy frowned as he appraised her glass. "Dat be a lil' dark ta have vodka in it. C'mon belle. Remy sho' don' like drinkin' by himself." Against her better judgment she obliged. One more drink wasn't going to impair her any she reasoned although the fuzziness of the previous cocktails was starting to slowly flow through her veins.
Thunder boomed raucously, causing Ororo to flinch. "Are the storms down here always this horrible?"
Remy's lips curled into an amused smirk. "It be hurricane season chere. Don' worry. Dis jus' be a bad storm." He reassured. As soon as the words left his lips the electricity cut out. A partially stifled gasp escaped Ororo. "Ya all righ' Ororo?" he questioned with worry. "Yeah," she sighed then regained her composure. "There's a flashlight in the kitchen somewhere. I'll get it."
She slowly treaded her way around, not having committed the floor plan of the apartment to memory fully. "Found it," she declared triumphantly. She used the narrow beam of light from the flashlight to guide her way around the apartment with a box of matches as she lit her decorative candles. That was a benefit of being a girl; there were always plenty of candles on hand for occasions like this.
After lighting a few candles in her bedroom she began to return to the living room when she smashed her toes against the leg of the coffee table. She yelped out in pain as she hopped to the sofa, placing her right foot on the cushion. "Ya ok? Give it here."
Ororo objected but Remy had a firm but gentle grip on her ankle as he pulled it towards him. "Lemme make ya feel better," he said in his silky baritone as his strong, nimble fingers began to knead. His eyes were fixed onto her, awaiting her reaction. Her chest lifted with a deep sigh. She buried a moan that attempted to surface. "Do dat feel good, mon cherie?" he asked, with words laced with seduction. Ororo simply nodded, afraid that instead of words a moan would escape her. She pulled her leg back and withdrew to her side of the sofa further.
The apartment was silent minus the glass of the windows shuttering minimally from the powerful winds as the persistent rain punched against the windowpanes. It's not that thunderstorms frightened Ororo or that she disliked them. On the contrary, she found the sound of rain to be an audio aphrodisiac. Even nature seemed to be working against her tonight.
Perhaps if she made casual conversation that would distract her to the heat that was raising inside of her that wasn't due to the alcohol. "What is it that you do for a living, Remy?" she asked willing her voice to give the illusion of being laid back.
"I'm a broker," Remy answered a little too hastily, too curt. That was always the answer he gave when asked. It wasn't necessarily incorrect or completely honest. Details were not needed.
It was now his turn to ask questions and he had a few in mind. "So how is it a femme as beautiful is ya all on her lonesome?" he asked as slide closer to her, closing the gap and building the tension. His fingertips began to drum just above her knee.
Ororo swallowed hard to keep the butterflies that fluttered in her stomach from flying out of her mouth and sounding like a girly immature giggle of nervousness. "I haven't really been looking." After her break up with John the last thing she had on her mind were men. "Why are you single?" she asked, assuming he was. She wasn't certain.
His drumming transformed to doodling invisible loops up her outer thigh as he pondered. Truthfully Remy hadn't had an actual meaningful relationship. There was once someone, Ana, who lasted longer than a couple of months but that was merely an on going friends with benefits arrangement. He thought of settling down at some point but he still had a few years and different variety of women to sample before doing that. When he came to a conclusion he replied, "Mos' filles ain't my type."
"And what is your type?" Flirtation coated her words though she was genuinely curious.
"I can show ya," he responded as he leaned closer with his hand traveling upwards. His touch sent a shiver though Ororo's blood began to boil with lust. His eyes were rapt on her lips; full and inviting. His fixation did not go unseen by Ororo.
"You're going to kiss me, aren't you?" Her words came out in a whisper as her mouth began to water, anticipating his answer.
He nodded. His trademark heart melting, panty dropping, confident smirk reappeared. "Qui, an' ya gon' like it too."
Their lips met each other's as if to be colliding. It was if Ororo could not control her body, only responding heatedly to his touch. DON'T DO THIS! You're making a mistake! This isn't like you! you don't even know him!…Her inner voice shrunk with every stroke of his fingers on her skin and nibble on her swan like neck.
His right hand gradually, teasingly crept up Ororo's shirt. Her skin was smoldering under his cool touch as he reached her ample breasts. Her skin was so smooth, like fine satin. Her nipples were already stiff before he palmed them. Her fingers intertwined with his messy hair pulling him slightly away from her as she playfully snagged his bottom lip with her teeth. A low pleased rumble left him as the corner of his lips tugged upwards. She had never been very aggressive sexually but the yearning he stirred in her was fierce. "My bedroom. Now."
Ororo awoke to the burning of the ceiling light shinning down on her. Guess the power's back on. She groggily thought as she limply got out of bed to turn off the light switch. Her head was pounding powerfully against her skull and her mouth was desert dry. As she began to return to her bed her steps halted. Remy was sound asleep on his back. She smiled to herself as she studied him. His shapely lips were partially parted and slightly chapped. His five o'clock shadow made her recall how his stubble felt against her neck as he nuzzled, brushing against her stomach as his lips taunted her. A knowing smile crawled against her lips. Unfortunately she couldn't remember every detail of their experience due to the consumption of too much alcohol, just moments and phantom feelings on her hips and thighs. She did know she had enjoyed herself. Ugh, why can't I remember?!
She attempted to stealthily enter the bed but Remy started to wake. He smiled at the sight of her. It wasn't every day a man was lucky enough to wake up next to a beautiful creature like her. "Mo'nin' belle," he greeted with a lopsided smile before sitting up and stretching. It was as if his muscles beckoned to be pawed at. Ororo considered recreating what they did last night but now that she was sober she became increasingly disappointed with herself. It shouldn't matter that the nude man in her bed was Hollywood handsome. She should have had more restraint and higher standards for herself. She was better than an easy lay and should have behaved like it.
"Hey," she smiled politely. "Um, have some things I have to get done early today here and at my office. So…" she said hoping he'd get the hint. Self-consciousness washed over her when she acknowledged she was naked before a near stranger. She scurried to put on her shorts and pulled on her shirt that were thrown across the room.
"Oh," he replied once he realized this was her way of prompting him to leave. Too bad, I wanted ta get it one mo' time befo'e I left. He got dressed, having to gather his clothing that was spread throughout. "Why don' ya take my numbah chere? I'd love ta spend time witcha again." He winked.
Ororo saved his phone number in her cell, knowing she would never dial it. This was a one-time thing and she would behave as if it never occurred. She walked him to her front door and placed a tiny good-bye kiss on his cheek. As he exited she closed the door to her apartment and any future with the debonair stranger only known as Remy.