You know sometimes you see someone in a random place, in the supermarket, on the escalator, you lock eyes and you feel this wave of attraction washing over you.
They hold eye contact with you, longer than is polite. You get this little thrill and for a while after, you maybe even imagine an encounter with them. Sordid fleeting pictures of you together. Flashing images, skin, a drop of sweat.
Do you wonder if they fantasize about you too? Let’s say they do. How does it feel to know they’re thinking about you, naked? That they are imagining the things you get up to together? What they do to you, what they imagine you do to them.
Notice it, next time it happens to you. Notice the other person and let yourself wonder.
A Moment of Attraction
“Out with it,” you said, “share the filth.”
I realised you’d been observing me for a while. We were on the sofa having a glass of wine together, watching our show.
I looked at you, squirming a little. Caught, games up, your eyes twinkling at me in that amused manner of yours. You paused the show.
I’d been thinking about a single moment. I wasn’t thinking beyond it, to imagine the “what might have beens”, just the moment. Now the thing is, this moment lasted only seconds. And I’d found myself dwelling on it since, turning it over in my mind.
“There’s this guy at work,” I said, couldn’t help grinning.
“Of course there is,” you, inviting me to share. You took my hand, rested it on your crotch, that wryly amused look still in your eye.
“It happened in the kitchen,” I said, unbuckling your belt.
I went into the kitchen at work and a couple of colleagues were in there. They were talking. I mumbled a quiet greeting that they didn’t seem to hear. I’m horribly socially awkward at work, always have been. I put my stuff in the dishwasher. Then this moment happened.
I had your cock in my hand by now, I stroked it gently, deciding how to go on.
I’m acquainted with him, this guy. We both enjoy cooking, to a nerdy level actually. We’ve shared recipes – long, complicated recipes. I’ve told you about him before. You’re even more nerdy than either of us when it comes to kitchen business.
“So, it was that guy,” I said.
I sent myself back to that moment and I felt my heat spiking.
I explained it to you.
I’d put my stuff in and closed the dishwasher, looked up in their direction. The other guy was still talking to him, but that guy, our guy had turned to face me, he was looking at me. Staring in fact, his face completely expressionless, blank.
His stare was so straight and so fucking intense. I tried to explain it to you, what it did to me, how it made me feel.
You pressed my other hand to your balls; I clutched them lightly and regulated my stroking.
In short, my inner submissive self, which I normally keep tightly locked away at work, woke up and invaded my mind.
“I felt like an insect pinned to a board, wings spread out for his inspection. Naked, observed, you know?” I tell you.
“Not really” your voice as amused as your eyes.
His stare remained expressionless, but at the same time it felt like he was measuring something, gauging something about me, but I have no idea what.
That other guy continued talking, completely oblivious to this glaringly obvious tension. I don’t know about him, our guy, but the tension on my side was purely sexual.
I knew I was going to break the moment, look away, but then I surprised myself. I smiled at him. His expression didn’t change. There was no reaction at all. The moment between my smiling and my breaking eye contact lasted a very long time in my head.
“I wonder why I did that, why I smiled. It made the whole thing a thousand times more awkward.”
I left the kitchen, feeling oddly high. “It was like I’d escaped something dark,” I said.
You reached down and started a slow tease around your prostate.
“Do you want him?”
“Yes, I do,” I said licking and suckling your frenulum, your balls in my hand.
“Invite him to cook with us. Now be a good girl and give me some head,” you said, which I did with pleasure.