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Palm smoothing over his clean-shaven jaw, she takes this moment to blatantly fondle him before the roles are concrete. It brings a little youth to him, that lack of a shadow. She’s not sure she likes it. But she does like that setting her heel to his chest prompts the slow progression of kisses up her shin.
His calloused hands cup her calf. She knows he can feel her twitch, but he doesn’t comment on it. Good.
His kisses progress, open-mouthed up her thigh, jaw sliding up the fabric of her pantyhose without so much as a snag. She has pity on him and tugs her pencil skirt up gradually until he can press kisses to her carefully-selected lingerie. Planting her legs apart, toes curling, eyes half-lidded.
His tongue is already dampening her tights. He’s eager. They’ll both pretend her hand in his hair is to hold him close and not to pet through his silver-streaked platinum blond. Her teeth meet her lower lip. Her heels click against the floor, prompting his heavy, wet exhale against her panties.
Maybe she’ll tell him to forgo shaving next time. It’d be nice to have a few runs to remember this by.