Audacious & Salacious in Stilettos

Well, fuck me. I did not see this one coming.

I knew from the moment I saw him that I wanted him. Blonde, tan, handsome. Well groomed, but rugged, exuding a dominant undercurrent of energy that felt palpable… primal…

Being my natural bubbly self, I had the bartenders and my mother cracking up. I’m not sure what I said that engulfed Mr. Unexpected into the conversation, but I made his mouth drop and left him speechless within seconds–I have that effect on people ;-). Usually when I find myself in a battle of wits, most come unarmed, but not this one. He was quick, sharp: an excellent opponent I didn’t anticipate. I caught him off guard and never gave him enough ground to center himself, so though he still landed a few solid strikes, I dominated the match. I’m at my funniest when I have someone else to play off of.

Out of sheer laziness, I decided to take my mother to Handcraft to grab dinner–I literally live in the complex it’s connected to. Walking in, my eyes were immediately drawn to Mr. Unexpected sitting at the bar alone. He looked up and held my gaze, his eyes lingering. I smiled, natural blush be damned, and sat down to the left of him with a barstool separating us. I gave him a sidelong glance and was pleased to find him still looking at me before he went back to pretending to do whatever it was he was working on before I stepped in.

The banter between us was intoxicating. It has been quite some time since I’ve experienced a challenge and who knew it would come in such a delectable looking package. Our mutual interest was blatant, despite the teasing I was delighting in. His diction alone made me bite my lip. I felt feline, like a wanton cat yearning for attention with a fierce urge to rub my body against him until he pet me.

I was disappointed when it was time for Mr. Unexpected to leave; alas, all good times must eventually come to an end. He reached out his hand for what I thought was a handshake, but instead offered a folded up note (even the damn paper was attractive: some ostentatious cream colored card stock). I was impressed considering I never saw him physically write his name and number down. I rolled my eyes internally at myself realizing I would have been disappointed had he not made some effort to see me again. The play was excellently executed, so very smooth and in a manner that made me pucker my lips while trying to fight a smile and my cheeks protest in soreness.

I waited all of 5 minutes before I text him–if he couldn’t take aggressive, there would be no point of further dalliance. Of course, he found it incredibly sexy. I was preening like a damn peacock.

Our banter continued late into the night–one double entendre after another–our verbal foreplay working me up deliciously. It was so sexy how straightforward he was and I liked that I threw him for a loop.

In the morning, I teased him with a sassy text to torture him throughout the day. In the afternoon, I was the Cheshire Cat when I saw his text:

“That’s it…all day nothing?”

I teased him relentlessly as we continued our mental match. Then during dinner, my mother insisted I tell Mr. Unexpected that he was allowed to take me out for a drink after dinner, in which I asserted after that I would not have said such a thing because the double-tap is aggressive, even for me. Watch out! Danger! He was thrilled to.

And so our first date commenced…

I decided to wear a pair of fitted jeans, a white silk tank top with a top draping ruffle that showed my tits off to perfection (while still looking undeniably classy), and an adorable pair of peachy pink pumps whose straps were covered by large flower petal bows. Vanity aside, I was killing it in my outfit while simultaneously looking like I barely tried. NAILED IT!

Walking up to what I assumed was his car–some dark curvaceous piece of art–I leaned down into the window, my arms crossed and rested on the sill, and told him that this would have been hilarious if I only knew the line from Pretty Woman during the meet cute of Vivian and Edward. For future reference, it’s “Hey sugar, you lookin’ for a date?” Hell, I even had the pink hair to add to the pitch!

After climbing in, I turned to look at him and was genuinely surprised when he cupped my face and pulled it to his mouth in a feather light kiss. It was as if static electricity swept over my entire body, raising my hairs and giving me goosebumps. My heart did this weird thing where is seemed to be beating faster and slower at the same time. Then he deepened the kiss, his tongue flitting masterfully against mine. Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes! Finally, a man who can kiss!

I lost myself in his kisses and it was then, too late, that I realized the danger I naively walked right into… This is a man I could see myself liking.

However, deviate hard from that thought and reverse back to the car! I learned that it was some version of a Porsche (I retained nothing pertinent to its further taxonomy after that) and while I hate to be so shallow, damn it, if you could fuck a car, this would be the one. The only mar was a crack in the windshield which he nonchalantly informed me had happened during his last race.

Come again? Mr. Unexpected races Porsches? Oh my, this was going to be fun! Bless my heart!

We dashed around Charleston, cutting devil-may-care like through the traffic, whipping around the highway curves, hitting speeds that made my knuckles white. At first I was terrified; I am a control freak and was forced to breathe like I was in a lamaze class until our first leg was over. I was taken aback though by how quickly I judged him trustworthy behind the wheel and finally just let go. The high of it. It felt like the first deep breath I have taken in quite some time. It felt like joy filled helium bubbles were rising in my my chest, buoying me up. I felt like a giddy child. I put my hand out the window, feeling the wind caressing my face, tendrils of my silky hair tickling my skin. It was breathtaking.

After being forced to slow down while crossing Downtown on King Street, high on adrenaline, I looked over coyly at Mr. Unexpected, feigning demureness with a slow bat of my lashes to only look up and lock his gaze, my expressive eyes certainly smoky with mischief and desire, my mouth curving into an audacious smirk. “Do you want to go somewhere and make out like teenagers?”

And that’s enough for you.

Mr. Unexpected

Well, fuck me. I did not see this one coming.

I knew from the moment I saw him that I wanted him. Blonde, tan, handsome. Well-groomed but rugged—exuding a dominant undercurrent of energy that felt palpable… primal.

Being my natural bubbly self, I had the bartenders and my mother cracking up. I’m not sure what I said that pulled Mr. Unexpected into the conversation, but I made his mouth drop and left him speechless within seconds.

I have that effect on people. 😉

Usually when I find myself in a battle of wits, most come unarmed—but not this one. He was quick, sharp; an excellent opponent I didn’t anticipate. I caught him off guard and never gave him enough ground to center himself. So though he landed a few solid strikes, I dominated the match.

I’m at my funniest when I have someone to play off of.

The Meet-Cute

Out of sheer laziness, I decided to take my mother to Handcraft for dinner—I literally live in the complex it’s connected to.

Walking in, my eyes were immediately drawn to Mr. Unexpected sitting at the bar alone. He looked up and held my gaze, his eyes lingering.

I smiled, natural blush be damned, and sat down to his left with a barstool between us. I gave him a sidelong glance and was pleased to find him still looking at me before he went back to pretending to work on whatever it was before I stepped in.

The banter between us was intoxicating. It’s been quite some time since I’ve experienced a challenge—and who knew it would come in such a delectable-looking package?

Our mutual interest was blatant, despite the teasing I was delighting in. His diction alone made me bite my lip. I felt feline, like a wanton cat yearning for attention, with a fierce urge to rub my body against him until he pet me.

I was disappointed when it was time for Mr. Unexpected to leave; alas, all good times must eventually come to an end.

He reached out his hand for what I thought was a handshake but instead offered a folded note (even the damn paper was attractive—some ostentatious cream-colored card stock).

I was impressed considering I never saw him physically write his name and number down. I rolled my eyes internally at myself, realizing I would’ve been disappointed had he not made some effort to see me again.

The play was excellently executed—so smooth it made me pucker my lips trying to hide my smile while my cheeks protested in soreness.

The Game Begins

I waited all of five minutes before I texted him. If he couldn’t handle aggressive, there would be no point in further dalliance.

Of course, he found it incredibly sexy.

I was preening like a damn peacock.

Our banter continued late into the night—one double entendre after another—our verbal foreplay working me up deliciously. It was so sexy how straightforward he was, and I loved that I threw him for a loop.

In the morning, I teased him with a sassy text to torture him throughout the day.

By afternoon, I was the Cheshire Cat when I saw his message pop up:

“That’s it… all day nothing?”

I teased him relentlessly as we continued our mental match.

Then, during dinner, my mother insisted I tell Mr. Unexpected that he was allowed to take me out for a drink after dinner.

I protested, asserting I would never have said that, because a double-tap invitation is aggressive—even for me.

Watch out. Danger.

He was thrilled.

And so, our first date commenced.

The Outfit

I decided on fitted jeans, a white silk tank with a draping ruffle that showed my tits off to perfection (while still looking undeniably classy), and an adorable pair of peachy-pink pumps with large flower-petal bows at the ankles.

Vanity aside—I was killing it.

Walking up to what I assumed was his car—a dark, curvaceous piece of art—I leaned down into the window, arms crossed on the sill, and said that it would’ve been hilarious if I knew the Pretty Woman line from Vivian and Edward’s meet-cute.

For future reference, it’s: “Hey sugar, you lookin’ for a date?”

Hell, I even had the pink hair to match the pitch.

First Kiss, First Warning

After climbing in, I turned to look at him—and was genuinely surprised when he cupped my face and pulled me in for a feather-light kiss.

It was as if static electricity swept over my entire body—raising my hairs, giving me goosebumps.

My heart did this weird thing where it seemed to be beating faster and slower at the same time. Then he deepened the kiss, his tongue flitting masterfully against mine.

Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes. Finally, a man who can kiss.

I lost myself in him, and it was then—too late—that I realized the danger I’d naively walked into.

This is a man I could see myself liking.

Abort mission. Reverse. Back to the car!

I learned it was some version of a Porsche (I retained nothing pertinent to its further taxonomy after that). And while I hate to be so shallow—damn it—if you could fuck a car, this would be the one.

The only flaw? A crack in the windshield. He informed me casually that it had happened during his last race.

Come again?

Mr. Unexpected races Porsches?

Oh my… this was going to be fun.

Bless my heart.

The Ride

We dashed around Charleston, cutting devil-may-care through traffic, whipping around highway curves, hitting speeds that made my knuckles white.

At first, I was terrified. I’m a control freak, and I had to breathe like I was in a Lamaze class until the first leg was over.

But I was surprised at how quickly I trusted him behind the wheel. I finally just… let go.

The high of it—it felt like the first deep breath I’d taken in a long time.

It felt like joy-filled helium bubbles were rising in my chest, buoying me up.

I felt like a giddy child. I put my hand out the window, feeling the wind on my face, tendrils of hair tickling my skin.

It was breathtaking.

The Question

After being forced to slow down while crossing downtown on King Street—high on adrenaline—I looked over coyly at Mr. Unexpected.

Feigning demureness, I gave a slow bat of my lashes, then looked up and locked his gaze. My eyes, smoky with mischief and desire, my mouth curving into an audacious smirk.

“Do you want to go somewhere and make out like teenagers?”

And that’s enough for you.