Red. Gorged. Full.

What kind of a man says such things to a woman he doesn't know? Idiot...

She walks off, not bothering to look back. Neither of them are quite sure who's snared whom.

Follow her. Eyes cupping her full bottom, her trousers slack and taut over her assured legs. Passers-by noticing his erection. Followed. Toes twitching for his spectacle, wondering how he'll come. Quietly? Repeatedly? How much does he have inside? How much will she enjoy herself by throwing him out the second he's finished?

Her place: keys jangle, arm sweeps, door opens.

A quietly challenging smile, daring him to go through with it. He steps in and heads towards the living room.

"No, that's far enough for you" and pushing him back against the wall, turns to face him. They're barely past the doormat: she'll be wiping her feet on a new kind of doormat today.

Still, paused, settling down in the groove with each other. Gazes given and held, breathing slowing down together. With each other now, now it's her turn to scan him, to measure him up, take pains to show him he's under scrutiny. Half-closed eyes lower to his trousers. Her hands cupping his shoulders, then sweeping over his chest, teasing him with an index finger. Pleasure fickers over his face as her fingers flicker over his pleasure. Palm of hand twisting for length and fullness, pressing into him for proof. Is that him fully erect already?

Holding his gaze, she pulls up a trouser leg, smoothly lifting her leg to him as her shoe catches a ray of light in the semi darkness of the corridor, lighting up brightfuckmered. Pressing her knee against his groin then drawing her leg up to the ankle, making sure he can feel the bone against him as she rocks it side to side over him. She's relaxing now, lazily propped against the wall as she takes control of him, the linen flexing and relaxing over the mature fullness of her body. He's definitely hard by now.

"Well? What did you say you wanted to do?"