“I’m bisexual. When I stick my hand down a person’s pants, I’m never disappointed.” — Anonymous
I wanted her from the moment I saw her. She was a tall, red-haired, round-breasted woman with skin the color of ivory so white, so delicious.
She the breasts were constrained under her business suit, but I could see from her outline they were magnificent. Her gray pants suit did a good job hiding whatever curves she had, but based on those breasts, and I could tell her body was shapely.
She was sitting in the hotel’s restaurant drinking a glass of red wine and enjoying the free music during hospitality hour. Her face was beautiful except for a faint scar across the middle of her left cheek. I got a glass of wine and walked over.
“Is this seat taken?” I asked. She looked up at me, which revealed her light blue eyes.
“No,” she said.
I sat down. There was no ring on her finger.
“Hi,” I said.
I tried to keep my eyes on her face, but I kept visualizing what color her nipples would be. With that red hair, the nipples could be any color from the light pink of strawberry ice cream to the dark red of sweet cherries.
My mouth watered, thinking about having her hard nipples in my mouth and between my thumb and finger. I wanted to suck them. I wanted to hold her soft breast in my hands and bury my face between them. I would gently flick my tongue across the tips of her nipples.
I looked down, then up. When I looked up, I felt her accessing me. She looked at me and I could sense her heat. She was making my panties wet. Nothing had happened… yet.
The buffet opened and we both got plates. We talked over dinner. We told stories, jokes, and had casual discussions.
Each time I looked at her, every time she opened her mouth, I wanted to kiss her. I didn’t know if she felt the physical attraction the way I did.
“You’re not the first woman to look at me that way,” she said.
Damn, was I that obvious? I guess so. “I want you,” I said.
She told me she was not a lesbian; I told her I wasn’t a lesbian either.