Sugar Rush

Changing homes comes with a certain amount of anxiety, fear, and a frazzling array of different feelings. The satisfying solace of casually bumping into a familiar face in the hallway, while you rush to work or run errands is very underrated. In a new place, you try to avoid those “breaking the ice” conversations the best you can. Everyone wants to announce themselves by how far or close they are to you. “Hi, I’m John. I live…” then proceeds to point down the hall or to a house across the street.

When that happened to Alex, he just nodded and smiled at John till he got the memo that he didn’t want to talk. But with Laura, he meant every smile and wave. He looked forward to them. He had sent a couple of coquettish glares her way, but she always wore this devious but innocuous smile. They hadn’t said a word to each other, but they were both content to keep the staring contest going. That changed, however, when he ran into her as she struggled to get her many grocery bags out of her Uber. Like a Condor to its prey, Alex swooped in to offer a helping hand. The same hand would later groan in pain from the many bags it had to carry to the top floor.

The climb up was enough time for them to have an almost-conversation. “Chivalry isn’t dead,” she said as she looked back down at him at the bottom of the stairs. “ Nope, it isn’t,” Alex replied, as he averted his gaze from her derriere. He was respectful but he was sure she caught him. She couldn’t have been more than a few years younger than he was and he was 35. Laura wasn’t towering tall. Truthfully, Laura wasn’t tall at all, but she made up for it in her physical qualities and platform heels. Her denim pants stretched and tightened around her full bum while her cream silk top did a terrible job of concealing her slightly sweaty cleavage and presumptuously stunning breasts. From his vantage point, he could see the brim of her black lace panties as they rode the part where her back ends, and her bum begins.

On getting to their floor, he had found out a little about her; she worked at B’sTable, a bakery she owned. She was hopeful about seeing where things went after she signed up for culinary school after pushing it off for three years. Having studied French, she also was fluent in the language of love. Her words rolled out her pink lips. And most importantly, she smelt sweet like fresh confectionery.

Alex didn’t want to come off as a man who didn’t respect boundaries, so he set down her bags at her doorstep, bid her farewell, and walked in the opposite direction to his apartment. With her hand lodged inside the back of the pockets of her denim, she asked if he’d like to help her with dinner. While they climbed up the stairs, he may have mentioned that enjoyed working around the kitchen. So hearing her ask him to help out, drew a sheepish smile from him. He spun around and responded with “yes” but he asked for a few minutes to freshen up which she agreed.

Shutting his apartment door behind him, Alex started his victory dance. There was an added pep in his step. In about 45 minutes, he had groomed, showered, and dressed up in something that looked effortless. Spritz of Dior Sauvage here, there and he was ready to go. He did the 360 turn, the famous rubbing of the hands together, and then rubbed his face before finishing with a two-handed finger pointing to his reflection in the mirror. “Bad guy,” he muttered to himself.

“Come in, it’s open,” she yelled back, cutting his knock off midway. Walking in with a bottle of wine, he noticed she had switched into something more easily accessible; a free-flowing, striped frock that accentuated her curves. The apron wrapped around her waist was the icing on the cake. “Hi, I’ll be with you shortly. I’m baking a cake for my daughter. Her dad will be bringing her over tomorrow. Relax, her dad and I are divorced.” He struggled to gather his bearings after what she said finally dawned on him. She could tell it had knocked him off balance so she gave him some time to regain his composure. “Are you okay?” she said, with a light chuckle.

He was startled for like a split second but running again in his head, he couldn’t explain why he paused. He punctuated the silence with a response “Yeah, I’m good. Can I help?” She taught him how to use an airbrush and they sipped on pinot noir. It was different, mature, and sophisticated. With the cake in the fridge, they got cosy on her minimalist sofa. He started off massaging her toes before kissing them and then, Alex started sucking on her beautifully pedicured toes.

At some point, she gave him all of her and he indulged; he overindulged. He licked whipped cream off every nook and cranny of her body, but he could have sworn she tasted better without it. Yeah, it was that wild. Later the next morning, he remembered how he tossed her nipples in his mouth like little Maltesers, the night before. Good thing her daughter didn’t see one of them in his mouth when she walked in on them that morning. Her dad had brought her over for her birthday.

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