She was shorter than I expected, and she laughed when she had to crane her neck as I stood from the table. Hearing that laugh in person was so much more real than I expected. I'd heard her voice before, of course, but only after it had been decoded, modulated, forced through a sieve of compression so that it could reach across the ocean through tiny wires. Even then, she enraptured me when we spoke, but hearing her laugh in person was like inhaling after holding my breath for weeks. Refreshing, fulfilling, exuberant. Our lunch date conversation was rapid fire, electric. Our foil wrapped food sat in our hands getting cold while we spoke of her flight, the city, my friends and hers.

Neither of us wanted to say it first, but both of us knew what the other wanted as we stared at each other. Finally, we both stood, wordlessly agreeing that it had been long enough already. While we walked, my hand draped over her hips, and hers around my arm.

The moment the door closed behind us, she was tugging the scarf from her head, letting her hair tumble down in black waves around her shoulders. The fine violet fabric fell slowly, but before it could settle to the floor both of us were locked together. She was unbuttoning my shirt, I was tugging loose her draped shift, and by the time we reached the bed, her slender legs were bare, the loose cotton white of her panties doing so very little to keep me from her.

She told me once, weeks back, that she'd never had anyone go down on her before, and her eyes grew wide when she realized what I was doing, kneeling at the foot of the bed. My lips brushed against the inside of her thighs, and she suppressed a gasp, clapping a hand to her mouth. Her pubic hair was like silk, soft and inviting, and I pressed into her deeply, letting my lips find their way to the wet, warm core of her groin.

When she came, she wrapped her legs around me, her panties still draped from one ankle. Her back arched, pushing her dress up past her smooth belly, and I had to place a hand along the curve of her spine to keep my pace. When she dropped back down onto the bed, her breaths came quick and ragged, and I let myself slip backwards back to the floor.

When she had recovered, she propped herself up on the bed, and laughed. She covered her face as her shoulders bobbed with amusement, her giggles muffled by her hands. I laughed too, though I was unsure what we were laughing about. Then I was laughing because she was, and then it was all we could do but sit where we were, I on the floor, her on the bed, neither of us decent, both of us dumbstruck with one another.

When I finally stood, I asked if she was done already, and she responded by grasping me fully by the arm and pulling me down to the bed beside her.