Amaka My Sweet Colleague................... 3

He had called her the following morning, and she had sounded pleased to hear from him, and accepted his invitation to dinner. He had wanted to take her to Amara's, a sort of middle of the road restaurant out of town, known for its ambience and excellent food. She had cried off that, saying she had nothing to wear to a place like that. He had quipped back that she could try and pull a sort of 'emperor's new clothes' stunt, that he had very much like that if even nobody else did, and she had laughed brightly down the phone, making him realize that he hadn't heard her laugh too much.

They had ended up going to a ‘lounge 24’ instead, not quite the place he had had in mind. He had surprised her by ordering red wine, and she had surprised him by commenting on all the other women in there and their outfits in particular. He didn't get it right away.

They had had a lovely evening, just chatting. They had discovered several mutual interests and had overcome their nervousness until they were laughing like old friends. This time when they had left the building, he had slipped her hand into his and she hadn't pulled it away, just leant a little closer to him as they walked to her house.

Now, once more on the porch, he took her in his arms and pulled her close, and she rested her head on his shoulder like it belonged there.

"Let me take you to Amara’s next weekend," he said to her, "You'll love it there, much classier than Lounge24."

"I told you I have nothing to wear to a place like that," she giggled, "And I'm not going out naked!"

"Awww," he chuckled, "Then go shopping! Aren't you ladies all supposed to love buying new clothes and stuff?"

"Stuff?" she asked, teasingly.

"Yeah, you know, underwear! There I said it!" he laughed.

"And why would you be so interested in my underwear?" she questioned amusedly.

"For the same reason any other straight male would be, because you're in it!" he answered.

She giggled. It was a nice sound to him. He held her just fractionally closer.

"You know," he said, "All those outfits you commented on tonight?"

"Yeah," she said cautiously.

"I don't get it. You could wear any of them and look stunning!" he said.

"Now you're just flattering me!" she scolded him lightly.

"No, I'm not, just being honest," he said.

"How do you see me Ogbonna?" she asked, looking up at him.

"With my eyes," he answered with a grin. She slapped his shoulder playfully. "Look, it would sound corny if I told you what I was thinking, like I was some sort of player, and in all honesty I have been that in the past. I don't want you to think that's what I am now, or that's where I'm coming from with you."

"I do appreciate your honesty Ogbonna," she smiled at him, "But I'd still like your answer, and I promise not to hold it against you, alright?"

He returned her smile, "Well, um, I see you as a flower waiting to blossom, perhaps just waiting for some sunshine, and it'd be pretty special to be that sunshine I think."

Her eyes sparkled and she nestled in even closer to him. "It would be corny in some circles," she responded, "But it's pretty good, I have to admit!"

"How do you see yourself then?" he prompted.

"As a caterpillar," she told him shyly, "Waiting for its wings and the guts to fly!"

"Hey, that's a good one I'll have to remember that," he grinned.

"Don't you dare!" she told him.

"Pretty close though huh, flowers and butterflies?" he said.

"Yes, I guess," she answered, brushing her lips against his neck without even thinking, feeling safe and warm in his arms.

"Look, Amara’s isn't that upmarket," he went on, "You would only need a nice skirt and blouse or such."

"And stuff?" she giggled.

"Well, yeah, maybe, that's really up to you!" he smiled, "Come on, let's do it!" he urged.

"Alright, Friday night we'll hit Amara’s okay!" she relented, "And I'll go shopping in the week." She felt a surge of excitement at the prospect. "But I need to ask you something."

"Shoot!" he said.

"I'm not sure where we're headed, if anywhere, but until we know, can we keep this to ourselves? I don't want the whole office watching and trying to second guess us," she said.

"Of course. I'm not the kiss-and-tell type anyway!" he chuckled.

"Thank you," she said.

"Your welcome," he smiled at her, "Amaka, I don't want to pry, but has something made you this way? So unsure of yourself?"

"Yes," she told him, "I suppose, but can we leave it at that for now?"

"Oh, sure, of course," he responded, "What other rules can I break?" he laughed softly, "How old are you? How much do you weigh?"

Her laughter was spontaneous and it thrilled him. He kissed her forehead lightly, and squeezed her, felt her squeezing him back.

"What do you see in me you lovely man?" she asked, brushing her soft lips against his briefly.

"I see a beautiful woman, a lovely person, a sexy and passionate lady that I could really fall for," he told her, his eyes locked onto hers.

"Yeah, go on," she giggled.

He burst out laughing, and she laughed with him, but when the laughter faded she said, "I'm scared I'll let you down, that I won't be what you want me to be."

He sighed, shook his head, "I just want you to be you Amaka, you as you really are, not what you want the world to see. That's all I want, and that could never let me down," he said softly, "And what about me? What if I let you down? Or scare you off with my corny lines and bad jokes?"

"No chance," she answered, "It's part of your charm, but your honesty really does it for me!"

"Wow!" he said, "Normally it's my sweet little lies!"

They stifled their laughter with a prolonged and sensual kiss that just went on and on, leaving them breathless, almost panting.

"Nobody ever made me feel like this with a kiss before," he told her.

"Nor me, Ogbonna, nor me," she answered. She prized herself away from him, turned and unlocked the door, "Goodnight," she said, her eyes alive with so many more unspoken words.

He bent and kissed the back of her hand, "Goodnight Amaka, sweet dreams," he said, releasing her hand reluctantly.

She smiled once more and went inside, locking and bolting the door behind her.

- - - - -

Amaka awoke late the following morning and stretched languorously before curling back up on her side still snuggled under the duvet. Light was streaking in around her hastily closed curtains, light that spoke of a bright sunny day.

The weekend had certainly turned out better than she had dared hope, despite what she now saw as their misunderstanding on Friday night. She was thrilled at the prospect of going to Amara’s, something very much to look forward to, and excited at the idea of going shopping for some new clothes, something a little more smart and modern, maybe even sexy. And 'stuff' of course. She giggled softly, then the panic set in. What would she buy? What would he like?

Her panic was short lived though, as she recalled his words from the previous night. "I want you to be you Amaka." Well, that seemed simple enough, if a person knew what they wanted to be, though secretly she did, then having the confidence to be that was another thing.

She reached over for her novel and lay in bed reading, without anything more pressing to do, paying particular attention to what the leading female character chose to wear on her big date, her big night with her man.

After finishing the book, she remained in bed a while, wondering if next Friday would be her big night, and then lost herself in the fantasy of it, the possibilities of après Amara’s. She was soon trembling and moaning softly by her own clever hands.

It wasn't until she was standing under the hot spray of water in her shower that she began to consider it more realistically, and to think that the coming week could become the longest one ever!

- - - - -

Ogbonna had woken early, full of  joy. He had showered and dressed and headed out to get his newspaper from the shop he visited every Sunday morning. It was a bright morning too, the sky a clear blue but for a few fluffy white clouds, and yet the air still retained that sharp chill.

He always walked to the shop, partly because it wasn't far and partly because he enjoyed walking, and in his t shirt and faded jean  he didn't mind the cold so much. He crossed the street and headed into the shop, a small mini-market that sold most things.

"Morning Handsome," said Mrs. Veronica Udemba, the owner's wife, an attractive lady in her late forties or perhaps early fifties, an incorrigible flirt but a safe one.

"Good morning Mrs. V," he answered, "And what a lovely morning it is!"

"You seem especially chipper this morning, some poor woman fall for your charms last night?" Veronica asked.

"Maybe," he grinned.

"Sent her packing early did you?" she teased, "Or did you have to, you know, make a quick exit?" she added laughing.

"What do you take me for, mrs. V?" he scolded her playfully, taking his newspaper to the counter.

"Oh, now let me see," she chuckled, her eyes answering the question well enough.

"I'll have you know that I was out with a lady last night," he told her, "I kissed her goodnight on her doorstep, and I'm going to see her again!"

"Oh no, don't tell me someone is finally getting their hooks into you?" Veronica laughed again.

"Ah, mmm, early days," he said, handing her the right money and rolling the paper up before jamming it into the back pocket of his jeans, "But you may just have missed your chance!" he added with a grin.

"I'll believe it when I see it!" she laughed.

"See you later Mrs. V," he said.

"Yeah, see you later Handsome," she called after him.

Back home, he lingered over the papers with coffee and toast, then switched the television on to catch up with the sports news. It was after lunchtime that he began to feel restless. Usually for Ogbonna, Sundays were his lazy days that he spent watching sport or movies, or just reading. He was an avid reader, and his little flat boasted bookshelves everywhere that housed his collection of paperback novels, many of them read over and over, some that he had had for twenty years or more, but he couldn't settle to anything.

He had a late lunch and then messed with his computer for a while, before deciding that he had call Amaka, that that's what he wanted to do. It surprised him, but it pleased him too.

It had surprised Amaka also, but they chatted easily, picking up on some of the shared interests they had touched upon over dinner the previous night. They talked about all sorts and had lost a couple of hours of their afternoons by the time they hung up, but neither of them objected to that. In truth, it'd be a long time since either of them had just picked up a telephone to chat with someone they liked, and it felt good to do it.

- - - - -

Amaka struggled to hide her lifting spirits in work the next day but managed to play down her movie date with Ogbonna to the girls in Accounts, but she couldn't hide the genuine and very warm smile that she flashed at Ogbonna whenever their paths crossed.

Ogbonna just wanted to whisk her away into an empty office and hold her and kiss her, and found sitting at separate tables at lunchtime in the canteen almost torturous, then Chinwe, the mouthy lady from accounts who'd set them up for their date, had called to him as he was replacing his tray on a pile of other trays before leaving.

"Hey, Ogbonna, you're a man!" she said.

He turned, catching Amaka's eye briefly as she was sitting at a table behind Chinwe, hated that she was sitting alone, and then answered the lady, "Oh shit! I've been rumbled, do you think I should've gone for higher heels?"

Amaka hid her sudden grin behind her hands, and Chinwe just blinked, unable to comprehend the joke, but disregarded it and went on anyway, "We were just talking about women's hair."

"You were?" Ogbonna said, "You like hairy women then?"

"What?" Chinwe asked, but even the two girls sat with her were grinning and Amaka was struggling to mute her laughter behind them, "No! Women's hair, we wanted a man's viewpoint. Long or short?" She waved a magazine of some sort at him as if that would clarify her question.

"On what part of the body?" Ogbonna asked, affecting an innocent expression on his face. Amaka was resorting to coughing now to hide her growing amusement. "You know, you can ask different men that and get different answers!"

"I know, but you're here and I'm asking you!" Chinwe said, her frustration showing. She waved the magazine again at him, "Hairstyles you know? Ladies hairstyles!"

"Oh, I see, just thought you might've meant body hair for a minute," he teased, "In which case the answer from me of course, is none!"

Chinwe's eyes widened a little at that and her companions smirked. "Long or short?" she asked again abruptly.

"Long!" he said, emphasizing the word, but it was lost on her.

"Loose or tied?"

"What's the point in having long hair and then tying it up?" he asked, "It's nice to play with long hair, so loose for me."

"Okay, thank you, eventually," she said exasperated.

"Long, loose hair and no body hair?" Gail, one of the other girls asked, "You don't like playing with body hair?" Her eyes shone with mischief.

"Naah," he answered, "It just gets in the way of what's much more fun to play with!"

There was laughter at their table, except from a completely bemused Chinwe, and behind them Amaka was now chewing on her knuckles to remain quiet. He caught her eye and winked as he left. It was great to take the piss out of somebody when they didn't even know you were doing it, especially when everyone else did, and especially when it was that mouthy lady, Chinwe Odinta!

"Is he on something?" he heard Chinwe ask her friends behind him.

The week passed like that, with similar stolen moments in and around the office when their connection was reinforced silently, with discreetly exchanged smiles that became warmer as the week passed, but no outward signs that they were on the same page in so many ways.

They talked on the telephone every evening, laughing at their private office jokes, and learning more about each other, little by little, growing closer and more comfortable with each other in the process, finding more and more common ground between them as a genuine affection for each other took root in them.

Amaka left early on Friday, using some of her hoarded flexi-hours for her highly anticipated shopping trip. She was so excited, and so scared. It was all new ground for Ogbonna too. He couldn't remember when he had last looked forward to a night out as much, or even if he ever had, but he knew that he had never felt so nervous about one!

- - - - -

Amaka checked herself out in the full-length mirror in her bedroom, feeling excited for the first time since that night when she was twenty. She had chosen a jade green blouse that had a high-necked oriental collar and was tailored tightly to her curves. It had a sheen to it, though it wasn't made of anything as exotic as silk. She had matched it with a classic black pencil skirt that hugged her hips and the line of her thighs and ended just below the knees. Sheer black nylons and shining black stilettos, along with a black clutch bag, completed the look.

Her long, dark hair was loose and tumbled about her shoulders in softly scented waves. Her dark brown eyes glinted back at her, shy, nervous, excited, and afraid; all of those were reflected in them. She caught her lower lip between her teeth, wondering if Ogbonna would have preferred her in something more revealing, sexier, but she wasn't ready for that yet. With a grin, she reasoned that her 'stuff' was sexy enough, if things went that far, and just thinking that made her breath catches in her throat and her heart flips.

She heard a car pull up outside and peeked through the curtains. Ogbonna's gleaming Mercedes was at the curb. She had never been in a Mercedes before, and even though it was an older one, it was still a Mercedes!

She made her way downstairs and reached the door just as the bell chimed happily in the hallway. He entered her house for the first time and she ushered him into her small living room.

"Hi," she said, as he bent and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"Hi yourself," he said, stepping back to appraise her outfit.

"Well?" she asked, suddenly desperate for his approval.

"You'll do," he grinned, "Actually you look sensational. You'll turn heads when we get there!"

"Oh behave!" she said lightly, but she was thrilled inside if a little disbelieving, "You don't look so bad yourself," she continued.

Ogbonna was wearing trousers with a dog-tooth check in shades of grey, a white shirt which he wore open-necked, and a classic navy blue blazer. His black shoes were immaculately polished.

"Thanks, you should try and curb that enthusiasm," he laughed, "Are you all set?"

"Yep, just need my coat," she told him.

"Excellent, your carriage awaits madam!" he responded, bowing theatrically. She copied with a mock curtsy, giggling, and went into the hallway to retrieve her coat.

It wasn't a long drive to Amara’s, but the big car with it's near silent engine and smooth, automatic transmission made it a pleasant one amidst the smell of leather and polish and with easy conversation.

The restaurant was everything that she had thought it would be, or maybe hoped that it would. It had low, oak-beamed ceilings and soft lighting, a real fire in a splendid stone hearth that just gave it the right air of cosiness without overdoing it. The bare stone walls were hung with old paintings and brasses, and the rich red carpet still looked good despite its age. The tables were solid oak, cleverly separated by shoulder height partitions for privacy around the walls, and more openly arranged in the centre. It wasn't a large place, but it was a statement of class and sophistication.

They were given a private table in the corner, not too far from the fire, the service was outstanding, there instantly when needed but not obtrusive when it wasn't, attentive without being rushed, just perfect. The food, all three courses, was heaven on plates and the wine outstanding, Ogbonna had talked about his trip to The Napa Valley with great affection, and they had chatted about other places he had been. She hadn't been far, but he didn't let that make her feel any less included in their conversation.

The evening had just flown by, and they were suddenly drinking coffee, his fingers gently stroking the back of her hand on the table. Amaka thought that it was perhaps more Mills And Boon than Black Lace but it felt so good, to be treated, spoilt a little, to be put on a little pedestal for a while by a handsome man who was also attentive and charming, but she feared that Cinderella's midnight would come all too soon.

Driving back to town, she thought that if she had had to describe the evening in just one word at that point, it would be 'dreamy', but there were so many others too.

Once more Ogbonna guided the Mercedes to the curb outside her home and shut off the lights and engine, then went around her side to open the door for her, offering his hand as she got her balance on the tarmac. The car's lights flashed as he locked it remotely and escorted her up the path to the now familiar porch, pausing at the door while she found her key, then pulling her close to him.

"What are you doing?" she said softly.

"I'm about to kiss you goodnight," he answered, "And to thank you for the most perfect evening I've ever had."

"Oh!" she teased, "Well, alright then, you don't want to come in for a glass of wine?"

Ogbonna smiled, "Well, I'm not sure," he said seriously.

"What? You don't like my new look after all?" she asked.

"Quite the opposite, I'm afraid I like it too much," he told her.

"Then you'll just have to behave won't you?" she laughed, "Come on, you can leave your car here and walk home, the night's young, have a glass with me?"

He smiled warmly, "It'd be rude to refuse," he said.

"Exactly," she smiled, and they went inside together.

Ogbonna had taken off his blazer and sat on the comfortable sofa in the neat little sitting room, thinking that it was just so much more cosy than his own, that maybe it needed a woman's touch to make a place a home. Amaka had returned with a bottle of red and two glasses, and let him manfully undo the screw cap and pour.

"Excellent choice," he told her, noting the Sutter Home label. A merlot.

"I'm a fast learner," she said lightly. He raised his eyebrows and grinned, was rewarded with a smile that reached right into her beautiful eyes, and touched him where no woman had before.

They chatted easily, as they had over dinner and in the car, relaxing contentedly with each other as the wine in the bottle grew less and less. It was a comfortable atmosphere, natural, one Ogbonna hadn't really known before. He had always been the one making the play, taking the lead, turning the conversation in the direction he wanted, and he relaxed completely, just enjoying her company and talking about whatever subject they happened upon. He found being honest and open with her an easy thing to do, something he wanted to do, to be.

Amaka knew that he was probably being more true to himself than he had ever been, she could feel how at ease he was, and was both thrilled and scared by the fact. She found herself dipping between intensely happy and a little anxious. She needed him, she realised, needed him to make her let go of that stem, to make her try and fly, but she was afraid that she had fail, herself and especially him.

He sat close to her, his fingers trailing through her hair and brushing her cheek, every now and then he had just lean in and kiss her, her cheek or her lips, as if he were lost in her, captivated, enchanted even, and she so much wanted to respond in the right way that she got caught up in herself and the confidence started to drain from her.

"So," she said, "What do you really think of my new outfit?"

"You look wonderful in it Amaka," he answered, "Breath taking in fact!"

"I'm not sure, I mean I like it, it's sort of classy, but I'm not sure it's me," she said.

"You should see you through my eyes," he responded, "What did you see, in the mirror, when you looked at yourself before we went out?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said dejectedly, "I like it, but ... I don't know. Can I borrow your eyes for a second?" she grinned.

"Yes, maybe," he replied, and she could see the sudden thoughts flashing into his mind, "But you'll have to promise me, Amaka, that you won't think I'm slipping into 'player' mode, you know that's not why I'm here don't you?"

"Yes, of course," she answered, and knew it instinctively.

"I don't know how you saw yourself tonight, before we went out, but maybe there is a way that you can see yourself through my eyes. Do you have a full-length mirror anywhere?"

Amaka almost blushed. "Um, in my bedroom," she answered.

"Nowhere else?" he asked.

"Afraid not," she told him, and recognized a disappointment in his eyes that told her he wouldn't ask to use that one that told her was definitely not playing her, not playing at anything. "Why can't we use that one?" she asked.

"Well, you know?" he said, "Your bedroom and that."

"It's just a room Ogbonna, and just a mirror, come on, I want to know how I can use your eyes!" she smiled, standing, and offering him her hand.

"If you're sure," he said, taking her hand. She thought she felt him tremble in that touch, and in a strange way it started to settle her, that he was nervous too, scared of doing the wrong thing, perhaps scared of not being enough.

She led him upstairs to her bedroom, where a mirror stood angled into the corner, supported on its own frame that held it a little off the floor and just short of the ceiling.

He stood her in front of it, and stood behind her, their eyes met in their reflections, and she saw something smouldering in his that she didn't recognize from any knowledge, but that she identified as desire from instinct. The thought excited her.

"Okay," she said, her voice not entirely even, "Show me myself, through your eyes, what do you see?"

He reached around her and held his hands flat, framing her face, one below her chin the other above her head. When he spoke his voice was no more than a husky whisper, and there was only truth in his eyes.

"Look here," he said, "At that mane of beautiful hair, so rich and soft. I can't help but want to touch it, to wrap my fingers into it, to lean in and press my face into it, to inhale it." His fingers touched her hair so lightly that she shivered, and he leaned in, close enough for her to feel his breath on her neck.

"And then I see your eyes, Amaka," he said, his face closer to her now, "And I'm distracted from your hair, because your eyes are so beautiful, so deep and mysterious, like pools of chocolate and I just want to stare into them forever, to die in them."

She breathed out heavily, her heart rate picking up as his words coursed over her like silk. She could feel her grip on the stem loosening. His fingers touched her cheek, so lightly that she barely felt them, just the tingle that they left on her skin in their wake, yet she saw them in the mirror, touching her.

"And just as I'm happily drowning in your eyes," he said, "I can't help but be drawn to your face, your soft skin, and to your lips, and I just want to press my lips to yours, to taste you," he said, and with a single fingertip he traced a line across her upper lip, setting that tingling feeling off as he had when he had first kissed her, and she sighed softly.

"But being just a man," he went on, "I can't help but lower my eyes to your body, to your wonderful figure, those lovely curves that just beg for my hands to follow, to caress."

Without touching her, his hands followed the line from her shoulders, into her narrow waist, out again over her flaring hips and around them, in again along her thighs. His hands were a mere inch from her body; she yearned for them to touch, to stroke, to caress.

"You're beautiful Amaka," he said softly, "So beautiful."

"Don't stop Ogbonna," she told him, her own voice a breathy whisper, laced with excitement, with arousal.

"If I go on, it'll get pretty personal," he said, "Intimate."

"Please go on," she encouraged, the adrenalin bite fuelling the moment.

"Okay," he said softly, so softly that she almost didn't hear, "Stop me if I go too far, won't you?"

"I will," she answered, her words a hot whisper.

He took a deep breath, but the crack in his voice betrayed his own growing arousal. "I see your breasts," he said, "Rising and falling with your breathing, the promise of softness, warmth, comfort, and I want to expose them, to hold them."

"Then do," the words were almost choked out of her throat, "Do that."

He sought confirmation in her reflected eyes, found it, and with shaking hands began to undo the buttons on her blouse, from her throat downwards, slowly, until there were no more. He eased the blouse open, her chest was heaving as she sought to breathe, her nipples were hard and pressing tight against the black satin of her bra.

He eased his hands around her, smoothing the flesh of her sides underneath his palms, until they were beneath her breasts, and sliding over them, cupping them. She felt the pressure on them, reached backwards with her hands to steady herself by gripping his hips, her head followed, resting against his shoulder as his breath seared her neck and a lightning bolt scorched its way from her breasts to her groin.

She could feel her grip on that stem becoming more and more tenuous, fingernails just clinging desperately on.

"Go on," she urged, her eyes fixed on the mirror, desperately holding on to focus.

"You feel so wonderful to touch," he told her, "I just want to follow your curves with my hands, to feel the soft heat of you that's exciting me so much."

His hands left her breasts and slid down her sides, over her hips to her thighs and slowly back up, cupping her breasts again, then down again to her waist, hovering, fingers touching the catch and zip on her skirt, eyes seeking permission.

"Yes," she breathed.

She felt the skirt loosen, felt his hands easing it over her hips until it fell away to the floor. She kicked it away, didn't want it anymore, didn't need it. His hands gently flowed over her hips, to the tops of her stockings and beyond, his sigh in her ear was one of pure, shuddering pleasure.

His eyes were drinking her in. The tiny strip of black satin that covered her sex, barely, was already wet with her desire. His hands caressed her hot skin so softly, one moving over her belly and up to her heaving breasts, the other moving down to her thighs, and between, pressing gently there, and as her own hands moved from his hips to grip the hardening bulge at his crotch, she felt her grip slip and she closed her eyes and she dropped from the stem, and beneath his gently caressing fingers she fluttered her wings and flew.

"Ahh, ah, ah," she moaned, as the sweetest, gentlest climax eased through her body, and she spun in his arms and pressed her open lips to his, tongues meeting hungrily now as she desperately undid his shirt, yanking it from his shoulders as he slipped her blouse off of hers, then she was tugging at his trousers, freeing them, and all of a sudden they were on the bed, he had extracted himself from his clothing, had managed to free her from her bra, his mouth devouring her breasts as her hands found his engorged cock and stroked him, marveling at the length of girth of him.

He tugged at her thong, pulled it over her legs and let it sail away into the air as he kissed his way across her belly, over her smooth pubis to the pouting wet heat of her core, which he split open with the tip of his tongue before burying it inside her, probing, sucking at her swollen labia and swirling around her distended clit even as her hot mouth closed over his straining cock, causing him to shudder and groan throatily. Her fingers found the soft, weight of his balls and cupped them, stroked them as she sucked him, bobbed her head up and down on him, her tongue sending electrically charged shivers from his dick right up his spine to his brain where they sparked incandescently like fireworks in his mind.

His hands followed the gorgeous lines of her legs, across the sheer nylon of her stockings to mimic the action of his tongue on her clit in swirling circles around her ankles, and then he spun himself, unable to resist any longer, he lay above her and pressed his mouth into hers as her arms encircled him, her legs wrapped him, her stilettos digging into his flanks as she drew him deeply inside herself, bringing hot gasps from them both as he took her deeply, thrusting in smooth even rhythm, his mouth moving from her breasts to her neck and to her mouth as his hands relished alternately the exquisite feel of her legs and the soft sweetness of her long hair.

Amaka soared above the clouds in her beautiful flight, spread her wings as she caught and rode the thermals from crest to crest, moaning ecstatically as her body reveled in the heat of him, her mind shattering into a million fragments as he swept her up and carried her away into a bright and sunny dawn, until his sunshine burst forth inside her, and released her from herself, at last, into the world that she had always dreamed of.

- - - - -

They lay together, her cheek pressed into his chest, his hands gently stroking the leg that she rested across him, caressing her thigh, up and over her stocking top to her hip and waist, and back down again. She teased him with the sharp heel of her shoe, scraped it over his shin firmly enough to make him gasp, gently enough to make him shudder.

"I can fly," she told him, her breath tickling the hairs on his chest as she whispered, "With you, I can fly."

"You could always fly," he answered softly, "You just needed to believe that you could."

"Maybe, maybe I just needed somebody that cared enough to help me," she answered, "To bring enough sunshine to me that I could blossom."

"And look what's happened," he said, "Now you are the light, and I'm the moth that hovers hopelessly around you, just wanting to be close enough to feel your warmth, just wanting to bask in the beauty of you."

"But," she whispered, "What is a light without moth to cherish it? What is a flower without the sun to nourish it? What is a butterfly, without the air to fly in?"

They kissed, slowly and sensually, just like that very first time. Each had changed into something better because of the other, had found what they had really wanted all along, and all they had ever had to do was to find the right other with whom to let go.

                                                            The End