***This is part two of a fictional erotic story that started here. ***
He drove further north on A1A just past where all the street parking ended on the ocean side of the road. He literally did drive us to the north most end of the beach. He turned left into the driveway of a house, pulled up to a large gate, honked, stuck his head out the car window and the gate opened. I noticed that there was a pool in the front yard as he drove along the side of the house and parked my car in the back. Feelings of excitement and fear rushed through me.
“I’m Chris by the way. You sure you want to come in?”
“Nikki. I’d love to come in.” I usually found myself saying too much but suddenly I was a woman of few words.
Chris walked ahead of me but kept looking back at me and smiling. His big eyes seemed to light up the early evening. An older man opened the door as we got to it. He and Chris spoke softly. As he walked past me he barely looked at me in the face then said goodnight to us.
“We are alone now. Let me show you my little gallery that I’m putting together.”
We walked inside and the place was nearly empty. There wasn’t much furniture but his walls were full of art. He held his hand out in an instant I took it. We walked hand in hand down a long hallway then past double doors entered into a great room. The floors were white marble, the walls were the brightest white and all the couches, ottomans and chaise lounge chairs in the room were white. The only color in the room was the paintings on the walls. He let go of my hand then put his backpack down on an ottoman. I just stood there in the middle of the room wanting, waiting, unsure of what to look at or do next.
Chris walked over to me and stood right in front of me. He stared into my eyes then smiled again. He loved smiling. In the little time I had spent with him he either had a dead serious look on his face or a smile. Right then he was smiling the biggest smile yet. I laughed out loud. I anticipated a kiss landing on my lips. He surprised me instead.
“Can I kiss you?” he asked.
His kisses were as gentle as he looked wild. All I could think of was the sketch he had drawn of my feet. I walked away from him towards his backpack. I grabbed it, brought it back to him, asked him to pull the sketchbook back out so I could see it again. I examined the sketch as he held it.
“Show me what happens before it ends like this.”