A Memory

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*****

The night air was cool against his skin, but he hardly felt it. Perhaps it was his rapidly beating heart that made him feel like he was on fire, fingers still tingling as they yearned to reach out and take possession. All he knew was that he needed to move, to get away before something happened. Something that could never be undone, that he would not want to have undone. Making himself walk towards the main road was just as hard as not looking back. Thankfully, there were plenty of taxis around. As he took a seat and absently gave the address to the driver, he schooled himself to stillness and tried to process what had just happened. Admittedly, it was not so much to 'process' anything as it was to imprint the night's events to his mind, never to be forgotten.

It was he who had made the original suggestion of dropping by her place, to pick up a book of hers that she had recommended to him. He chuckled as he thought back, not quite sure what was more amusing - the thinly veiled excuse to spend some private time with her, or the fact that he was genuinely interested in the book itself. They had been at a dinner with mutual friends, and he had ended up next to her by chance. Or perhaps it had not been as random as it seemed. All he knew was that he had had some difficulty keeping up the conversation with the others as he tried to steal glances at the woman next to him. She had worn simple garments, a singlet and shorts that revealed more than what they covered up. The fair skin on her thighs was like a magnet to his eyes. Simply turning in his seat would give him a passing touch of her arm, and when a friend showing something on his phone she would lean over to get a better look.

He had tried to not make it obvious as he inhaled the smell of her auburn hair. It was a delightful torture. Towards the end of the dinner he had brought up the suggestion of dropping by her place 'sometime' to pick up the book that she had mentioned. Trying to make it sound casual, he wondered aloud if she was busy on this particular night when he knew he could spare some of his precious spare time without anyone asking questions. His excitement at her positive response was almost ruined by her backhanded comment "unless I'm fucking my boss". He tried very carefully not to think about that. He knew that he had no right to her, and wanted her to be happy. She was a free spirit, one that should never be restrained. At the same time, he could not fool himself into thinking that her fucking somebody else was not upsetting on a very primal level.

On the day, he found himself checking the time on his laptop every hour. The day at the office seemed to drag on forever, a feeling that did not change as he hit the gym. He was out as soon as he could, feeling an excitement he had rarely felt since almost two decades ago when he had allowed his life to be guided by his heart rather than wisdom. A voice in his head whispered suggestions, ideas, temptations. He silenced it by reflex and instead thought about what could go wrong. Embracing the worst case scenarios always helped him, giving a measure of protection. It was a technique he had taught himself in response to past disappointments, and it would serve him well here. Inspiration had come from the samurai, who had embraced their own death before going into battle. The mindset allowed them to fight without fear or hesitation, as they already considered themselves dead men. He thought about what he would do if he walked in on her fucking her boss - he would leave, and that would the end of it. He thought about him having completely misread her signals, which should become apparent during the upcoming conversation. Again, he would leave. He thought about letting go of his self-control, as hard as that was to imagine, and allow his passion to rule over his actions. It was an intoxicating thought, but the results would probably, no, most certainly lead to the ruin of his marriage. He firmly forced himself not to think about his situation at home. In a way, it was part of the reason he was walking down these unknown streets tonight. A brief thought flickered to the unlikely best case scenario, and he burned some self-inflicted rules into his mind - no touching, no kissing, no sex.

The building had some character, in what the useless real estate agents in this city would refer to as 'art deco charm'. He paid it little mind as he pressed the intercom. After a quick buzz he was in. As he approached the elevators, he realized he was muttering to himself. A habit that manifested when his thoughts became too jumbled, too conflicted. He was startled as the object of his thoughts popped out a side corridor. Greeting him with a smile and quick hug, she turned around and led the way to her apartment. He noticed she was wearing the same shorts she had worn to the dinner. Coincidence? He had complimented her on the shorts that night - he had had little choice, as she'd caught him looking. Had to say something. Hopefully she had not noticed the hunger in his eyes. Now, he watched as she walked ahead of him, taking in as much as he could of her legs. That was the benefit from the 'embrace death' mentality; you appreciated what you got, however small.

As they stepped into her unit, he felt slightly relieved that they were alone. At least that worst case scenario could be crossed out. He looked around as he put his bag in one of the many random armchairs in her lounge room. The absence of a couch and the TV standing on the floor stood out to him. Apparently she was towards the end of her dinner, so he asked to use the bathroom to give her some time to finish eating. It was a pretty small apartment, so he got an incidental house tour as he passed her kitchen and bedroom on the way to the toilet. For some reason his mind stuck to a pink stain on her white bed sheets. It looked like lipstick, slightly smeared out. As if someone's face had been pushed down on the sheets and moved by force. In the bathroom he washed his face with cold water, telling himself to stay cool. Phone was turned to silent. He most certainly did not linger on the scent of her towel as he dried his face. Stay cool.

They spoke for some time about general things. Training, diet, workout supplements. She had been going at it hard for months and had the physique to show for it. Didn't stop her from pouring herself a glass of wine thought. As there was just the two of them, he did his best not to look at her body. Obviously, he refused the wine. Every scrap of self-restraint was needed tonight, however it went. The book was easily found in one of the piles of books in the corner. He wished she had a proper bookshelf; you could often learn a lot of a person's inner workings from their choice of literature. Truth to tell, there were a number of things that her place was missing. It did not matter. Her worth did not come of superficial things like jewellery or other belongings - hers was a richness of heart, of personality, of passion. Still, he quietly decided to keep an eye out for her in case any of his friends was looking to get rid of a couch. Wouldn't hurt to have her owe him a favour, either. To keep the conversation going, he led the conversation onto her hometown. This was an interesting topic, but he still found it hard to stay focused. Beaches over there, snobs here, normal people almost everywhere. He was not overly fond of 'normal' people; they had a tendency to judge you if you did not fit into their view of the world. He realized that he was just working up his confidence and took a deep breath. Enough mucking around. Time to play the gamble, all or nothing.

Weeks before, he had quietly asked if she was working on a particular weekend. This 'workplace' was a strip joint, and her 'work' was to dance for patrons. And by the gods, did she dance. He sometimes went out drinking with friends, officially to get a chance to vent frustrations and escape the tension for a few hours. Lately, it was always with the ulterior motive of visiting her at work. It was stupid. If he was caught, the price to be paid was very high. It was a waste of money, obviously. Worst, it only left him deeply frustrated as sensual thoughts and vivid images would haunt his mind for days, weeks, afterwards. Awake or in dreams, it did not matter. On the other hand... for a few moments he would get to watch her in all her beauty, sometimes even steal a touch, and dream of things that could have been.

Watching her move, a perfect blend of curves and muscles was deeply arousing. She had the perfect body type, and the heart and soul to match. Being so close to her and enjoying the sight of her supple body was a privilege, if a painful one. It was what he had hoped for when he asked if she would be working that weekend. And so he had went, only to find that she was nowhere to be found. Being there without her had made two things abundantly clear to him. One, she was the only reason he ever went there. Two, a strip joint could be a really, really depressing place. That night had ended in a definite low. When they spoke next she apologized as she had forgotten that he might coming that night and that she owed him one. He only felt a little regret for letting himself play the guilt card.

And now here they were. Trying not to stammer, he reminded her how that night had been 'a bit of a letdown' and how much he had looked forward to watching her dance. Taking a breath, he suggested that she danced for him tonight. He was astonished to see utter surprise on her face. Could she really not have seen something like this coming? After a moment, she did not quite decline but explained to him that it would be hard for her to 'just dance' for him then and there. There was a ritual involved, one that allowed her to transform into her on-stage persona for these nocturnal adventures. It involved both physical and mental preparation, as well as a compulsory Salt-N-Pepa soundtrack to set the edgy mood that such work required. So it could be done, but perhaps not tonight? He tried very hard not to let anything show on his face.

In spite of his mental preparations, a part of him had still had its hopes up and a second disappointment would not go down well. He thought furiously. This had not been anticipated, but perhaps something could be salvaged. That ritual sounded pretty sexy in itself. Perhaps a version of that could take place? She nodded thoughtfully, but pointed out that it would still require the soundtrack along with generous amounts of wine. That, he replied with a growing smile, could be arranged, no? Her eyes did not leave his as she raised the glass to her lips. He knew that look - he recognized it from himself. It was the look of mischief, of daring. The thrill of taking a risk, doing what you shouldn't. She smiled as she finally nodded in agreement and told him to make himself comfortable while she took a quick shower.

He tried to busy himself in her absence but found it hard to concentrate. Thankfully, the shower was over as quickly as she had promised. She came back into the living room wearing nothing but a dark towel around her body, hair wet and a wide smile on her freckled face as she reached for the wine glass and told him to come with her to the bedroom. He almost lost it then and there. The large bed dominated the room, and a lamp in the corner provided a soft light. As he sat down on the bed - far away from the pink stain - he finally started to accept that things were not going towards any of the worst case scenarios. In fact, quite the opposite. Whenever she had danced for him in the past, there had been an element of a service being provided to a client, however well they knew each other in private. This was better, much more intimate. Just a man and woman, him and her. Alone. No touching, no kissing, no sex.

She reached into a drawer in her bedside table and pulled out a soft, velvety bag. As she came over to where he was leaning back against the bed's many pillows, he tried very hard to look relaxed and in control. She could probably tell he was faking, but he had a feeling she was going through the same motions. She let the towel drop to the floor as she bent down and reached into the bag, and he felt the usual thrill that the sight of her naked body always gave him. A sly look told him she knew exactly what she was doing, and the effect it had on him. She was quite short, with a slim physique. Not skinny, though; there was a curvature to her body that no amount of exercise could ever change. That said, her fitness regime had added to the appeal, with toned muscles now giving her body an added suppleness. He loved it. People in general seemed to like the model look; tall, skinny, aloof on top of their fragile pedestal of glamour. He scoffed. So much for normal people. Personally, he had always had a thing for short women, with a preference for curves that came from muscles. 'Like an off-season fitness model', he had told his friends. And here she was, the woman of his dreams.

She straightened up as she pulled one of the stripper uniforms out of the bag, and began to put it on. He honestly could not remember what the first outfit was, as watching her move, watching her eyes, was too captivating. Focus. A transparent housewife apron came next, followed by a crimson bikini she had worn to a stripping competition. She turned around to show him how the bottom piece hugged her sculpted cheeks, and he suddenly wished he had accepted that glass of wine. Even though the bikini covered more than most of her scant pieces of clothing, it was one of the more seductive outfits. For some reason, nudity was often seen as the peak of sex appeal, but he disagreed; the teasing promise of lingerie and naughty outfits, even everyday clothing like her shorts, held much more attraction than full nakedness. She watched him watching her, clearly enjoying the attention. When the Naughty Santa outfit came on, he could not stop his hand from reaching out, fingers running down the smooth skin of her thighs. No touching. She gave him a look that he recognized; unwilling to ask for it, yet still wanting him to touch. He remembered the game and its unwritten rules, but he was not playing tonight.

The final piece was a black see-through lingerie dress with slits on the sides, showing off her thighs and calves but still giving a tantalizing view of the rest of her body. Moving slowly and delicately, he made her bring the back part of the dress to the side so he could get a full view of her legs and ass. And it was a sight to behold. She was close to him now. The dress came off, and there she stood. All he wanted in a woman, right there in front of him. Looking over her shoulder, she gave him a steaming look and arched her lower back. He couldn't remember who moved first, but moments later she was in his arms. Her skin was still warm from the shower. Could it be that she was aroused as him? He took a deep breath and tried to empty his mind, to immerse himself in the moment.

She smelled... pure. No perfume, only the enticing scent that was hers alone. He firmly decided to keep his own clothes on - he would need all the protection he could get against this temptation. Should probably have brought a straitjacket, truth be told. His hands, however, could not get enough of her. Finally being able to freely explore her body, he ran his fingertips along her spine, down to the curving of her lower back, and beyond... Her ass had always mesmerized him, a sculpture of perfection. It was surprisingly soft in his hands. Somehow he had expected it to be hard, tense to the touch. Not as tender as this. He realized that she was giving herself to him, allowing him to do as he wished. His hands were now on her hips. If only he could... No.

Climbing into the bed, she straddled his thighs with a hungry look in her eyes. Hands still on her hips, his mind was racing with images of what it would be like to take her, his cock deep inside her, their bodies moving as one. He tried to throw her off, but that only lead to her landing on all fours next to him. It was as if her body was begging him to take her. A moment later he was on top of her, a hand grabbing a fistful of her hair, knees separating her legs, another hand between her thighs. She gave him a look over her shoulder, daring him to go further. His diminished self-control managed to stop him from touching her pussy, but only just. Tracing the inside of her legs, his fingertips explored the valleys and mounds, balancing on the border of intrusion. Her breathing was almost as ragged as his. She made a remark about how impressive his self-control was. He snorted softly. If only she knew how close he was to the edge, to rip off his clothes and do what they both yearned for. She was on top of him now, petite breasts in front of his face.

His lips parted without his consent and he kissed her body, her nipples, her neck. No kissing! His hands were back on her ass, lest they do something even more stupid. With enormous effort, he stood up. 'Time for me to go, I think' he said, unable to keep the inner turmoil out of his voice. She rose from the bed, smiling as she nodded in agreement, but her hands on his chest shouted of objection. Looking down into her eyes, seeing the irrepressible mischief he knew so well from his own heart... it was too much. Her lips enveloped his as he kissed her, and she kissed him back. The long suppressed passion in his heart now rose to a raging bonfire, threatening to consume him. Definitely time to go. A last scrap of wisdom made him use the bathroom again; after being this close to her, her scent was probably all over him. When he came back out, she was wearing a tiny pink singlet and panties. He still couldn't stop himself from looking at her. His body and heart made him steal one last kiss before his mind forced him out the door.

The taxi came to a sudden stop and he reluctantly returned to the present. No touching, no kissing, no sex. He gave a quiet chuckle. One out of three was not bad, all things considered. Time would probably make him remember things differently; a phrase forgotten, details changed. But some things would never fade. The two of them, together - her body in his arms, eyes hungry, skin warm against his fingers. The raging inferno of pure desire, still burning inside him. He would cherish what she had given him - a memory of true passion.