From across the table, she was glowing of a guilty innocence. His eyes would graze over her figure every chance she gave him, since he wanted to at least appear like a gentleman. When her gaze departed from his, he would glance down at her cleavage, which was surprisingly ample, given her petite stature. He would point his eyes to her neck, aching to grab her, pull her close, and kiss every inch of it. He would see her soft skin and wish to feel it against his lips, or at least his body.
Their conversation continued across the table. Mostly, it was small talk meant to acquaint each other. Every now and again, a good story would come up, though, and he'd see a bit of her smile. Man, the rush he felt when she smiled… It had, over the period of this first meeting, become his addiction, punctuating his nervousness with passion.
About a week ago, they started exchanging nervous conversation based on an online post. We shall, for the sake of the story, say that this post was petitioning a certain service that they were searching for, or offering… The nervous chat eventually became emboldened by a quasi-anonymity, but that was again shattered the very moment they met. Anyway…