Cristiano
“Four hundred ninety-seven…
“Four hundred ninety-eight…
“Four hundred ninety-nine…
“Five hundred.”
I lay flat on my back on my living room floor in my yellow compression shorts that I do my daily workout in. The workout I always end with five hundred sit-ups.
Rose should be getting off work about five so I expect she’ll be home by six. Working out now gives me the chance to cool down, shower, and be ready to “accidentally” bump into her in the hall when she gets home.
She’s going to know I’ve been waiting for her all day, but I don’t care. I know she values cute things and another “accidental” bumping into one another in the hall gives us a chance to redo our first meeting, only this time much, much better.
I take a deep breath and exhale hard kicking myself up and into a standing position. I learned the move in martial arts and I still use it to this day. It just really gets the blood flowing, although no exercise gets my blood flowing like she does…and I’m in tip top shape to boot.
Suddenly I hear what sounds like the elevator?
What the heck.
I grab for a pair of jeans and step into them, hastily fastening the belt.
I open the door and catch her just as she steps out of the elevator.
For the second time this week a quart of her ice cream hits the floor, but this time it has nothing to do with me.
Or does it?
Her eyes hungrily scan my body from top to bottom and I realize I stepped into the hall without a shirt on. Not only that but I’ve been working out hard for the last forty-five minutes. I had to go hard today. I have so much energy. I had a day off of work and I was in the apartment all day just thinking of her. I had to burn some of that energy off, or at least I thought I could. Wrong.
And now there’s more energy in the air on our floor than there ever has been.
I’m still breathing hard and from the looks of things her breath is picking up too.
“This is becoming our thing I see,” I say.
She slowly squats down to pick up the ice cream. Squatting versus bending allows her to keep her eyes on me, and for my eyes to wander across her curves as she lowers herself to pick up the carton.
“At least it didn’t spill out this time,” I say thinking how dangerously close I am to spilling something creamy of my own right here and now.
I can’t believe just the sight of her has me this close. I’ve just been so worked up since last night and the post exercise rush of blood isn’t helping right now either.
“I was thinking we could share it,” she says.
“I’m starving,” I say. I doubt she considered eating it right now when she bought it, but I need any excuse, any reason I can find, to be with her right now. Plus I’m still hot from the workout. Some ice cream would be nice.
And even nicer if she lets me lick a bit of the creamy goodness off the side of her neck…the inside of her thigh…and a few other places I’d absolutely love to put my tongue.
“Me too,” she says.
She brings herself back to a standing position and I can see I’m not the only one who’s hot.
“You’re sweating,” I say.
“Sorry, maybe I should take a shower first,” she says. “It’s a summer scorcher today.”
“You can use mine,” I say.
“Your…shower?”
“Yeah, it’s…it’s really nice. You have to try it,” I say. How ridiculous was that juvenile attempt to get her inside my flat? This girl is melting my brain quicker than the ice cream on this hot day.
Her eyes scan me up and down again.
“Do you have any really big super soft towels?”