Wooing Her


Photo by Tanya Chalkin

There she was.

The woman I’ve been keeping an eye on for the past week.

Sitting in a booth at my local café, I had the perfect view of her.

Long dark brown hair, full pouty lips, voluptuous figure.

She sat alone, cross-legged, reading a book and sipping tea.

I wasn’t the only one who was watching.

I surveyed the café and spotted three guys sneaking longing looks at her.

Ha, suckers! I thought. They don’t have a clue.

I have made an art out of wooing women.

Not that I’m a predator, but I have a gift in picking out curious women, even if they don’t realize they are curious yet.

They never suspect me, almost inherently trusting me even.

I’m unassuming, approachable, friendly.

It probably helps that I’m a woman too.

Women generally trust other women.

I had watched her dismiss a fairly attractive suitor the other day.

Her facial expression reflected annoyance.

He probably used some bullshit pick up line.

The really good-looking men usually relied too heavily on their looks and didn’t work on their personalities enough.

That told me that she doesn’t like the usual stuff.

She was looking for someone real.

Maybe even something different.

My type of girl.

But first I allowed my eyes to lust after her.

My God, she has a body for days.

I imagined smoothing my hands over her ample breasts and slowly tracing down her soft belly into her panties.

I shifted in my chair just thinking about it.

I bet she moans deliciously.

I bit my lip at the thought of pressing my mouth onto her full lips.

I imagined how they would feel like soft pillows and taste like strawberry.

I’m certain I know what she would like.

I know the female body well.

I’d start with soft, sensual kisses on her lips and gradually introduce my tongue.

We’d kiss, until the kisses grew hungrier and harder.

My hands would wander, just gently caressing her curves.

I would move down to kiss the nape of her neck with firm and succulent kisses as my hands work to undress her as she simultaneously undresses me.

Just enough suction and pressure.

Just enough to make involuntary moans escape her delicious lips.

I would take off her bra and leave her panties on.

I’d kiss her mouth again, sliding and pressing my naked body firmly against hers.

Then my mouth would move to lick and suck at her nipples, fitting as much of her into my mouth as I could.

My hands would brush over her panties, teasing her, making her wet with anticipation.

I might slip a finger in the side of them and gently stroke over the outer lips, but not go inside, not yet.

Not until her breathing and moans became desperate.

Foreplay is key.

When I would finally slip my fingers inside and find her clit, she’d gasp from the rushing pleasure.

But I wouldn’t start off fast.

No, that’s not how you do it.

It’s all in starting off slow.

Gentle, steady circles.

It’s all in the building up to it.

Trust me, I’ve had lots of experience.

So I’d do that until she started asking for more, then I’d increase the speed and pressure just so.

When her legs start shaking, I’d alternate from fast to slow, always keeping the motion consistent.

And sucking on her breasts the whole time.

Once her moans get louder and she tells me, “It’s building”, I’d know to keep the motion strong and steady.

It’s when she says, “It’s coming”,  that I would speed it up.

This works like magic.

She’d be screaming and clawing and shaking in no time.

That’s just for starters.

Because I wouldn’t have even slipped off her panties yet.

I snap out of my fantasy and sigh.

She has no idea of the plans I have for her.

I push my chair back and realize I’m wet.

That’s what this girl does to me.

I straighten out my pants and blouse and walk up confidently to her booth.

I smile warmly and say “Hi.”

She looks up from her book, looking a bit surprised, but smiles back.

“Hi.”

“I noticed you come here often but never with anyone. Do you mind if I join you?”

Her eyes do a once over on me and the hesitance that I detected in her expression passes.

“Sure.”

I start with introducing myself, then I comment on her book.

I ask her about herself.

Show interest.

Compliment her.

Make her laugh.

Listen.

Then I invite her out, to someplace she would be interested in.

She says yes.

We meet later in the week for the day.

I am easy with her, catering, sweet, thoughtful.

I invite her to more places.

We meet several more times.

I can tell her guard goes down with each meeting.

I slowly start complimenting her a little more, my body language becomes flirtatious, as I get physically closer to her, lingering and finding reasons to touch her.

She doesn’t seem to mind.

I can tell she is a little confused, but seems to like it.

And then one night, I lean in and kiss her.

Her lips are motionless at first but then she starts kissing me back.

Passionately.

Her lips do feel like pillows and taste like strawberry.

My head is filled with cotton balls and stars as we kiss.

We revisit the café where we met a few weeks later and I confess that I fell for her long before I approached her.

I even tell her the fantasy I had the day I walked up to her.

She bites her pouty lip, leans over the table and whispers into my ear, “Then why are we still here?”

My heart pounds as I take her hand and walk quickly towards the door.

I am vaguely aware of the jealous eyes following us.

“Suckers,” I can’t help but happily think.

Prompt is Cafe

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