When Warren Met Gwen, part six

Gwen pulled her Honda Civic into the driveway at Warren’s modest 2 bedroom bungalow. She took one last look in the rear view mirror and applied a coat of lip gloss, then grabbed hold of the two bottles of wine in the back seat. Not knowing his preference, although suspecting he preferred beer above all, she had purchased a bottle of red and a bottle of white, her humble offering to the meal.

She approached the doorway in the way that people do when trying to pretend like they don’t know they’re being watched - purposefully but trying to carry it off as nonchalant and aloof. She wasn’t sure if he’d be watching, but she hoped he would be because, damn, she looked good. Her hair was loosely piled on top of her head in a messy bun with just enough loose strands framing her face. Her cheeks were rosy from running errands en route to Warren’s house. Her eyes sparkled with just a hint of anticipation. Her fitted jacket, buttoned at the waist, hugged her curves and served to further enhance her bosom, whose cleavage was playing peek-boo-with the scarf that accentuated her buttoned-down blouse. Yes, she looked confident and hopefully quite fetching. But inside, she was as nervous as a Catholic school girl about to make First Confession.

She knocked on the door.

Of course, Warren had been looking. Tucked away behind the blinds, he’d seen her exit the car and make her way up the walkway. Damn, she looked good, like she’d just thrown herself together at the last minute and as though everything landed effortlessly. She was shapely, casual and absolutely stunning. She looked natural, almost like she’d gotten out of bed looking that way. She was very attractive but in an understated sort of way. He stood there in his jeans and flannel shirt and second guessed his choice of attire. But it was too late now. He approached to door to welcome her inside.

“Hey,” he said smiling as he opened the door.

“Hey yourself,” she smiled back handing him both bottles of wine. “I didn’t know what you were preparing or how to pair it with wine, so I brought one of each.”

“Why thank you,” he nodded, gesturing for her to enter. “Make yourself at home while I chill the white and open the red to let it breathe”.

“Jeez,” she thought as she removed her coat and sat on the oversized couch. “Look at him being all fancy, letting the friggin’ wine ‘breathe’ for Pete’s sake”, she considered, pleasantly surprised.

A few moments later, he re-entered the living room carrying two glasses of red wine. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said sheepishly, “but I made a judgement call and poured you a glass of red wine. It goes with supper,” handing her a glass and then sitting down next to her.

“Not a problem, thank you,” she gushed. She tilted her glass towards his in cheers and took a sip. “Hmmmm… very nice. To your health!”

“To yours as well,” he said after taking a sip for himself. Then he leaned in to give her a quick kiss on the lips. “Nice to see you. Thanks for coming.”

“My pleasure,” she sighed, placing one hand on his knee. “Thanks for having me.”

A rather intense silence followed, both of them gazing at one another smoulderingly. “Patience, Gwen,” she warned herself as looked into Warren’s eyes. “Don’t blow it. Don’t break eye contact.”

Warren engaged in his own internal pep talk. “She is so hot… stay strong, big fella. Straight ahead, man, straight ahead,” he told himself and he tried hard not to stare at her boobs.

“I hope you like nachos,” he said at last, breaking the silence and slicing some of the sexual tension. “It’s not exactly gourmet, but I think you’ll find them very tasty.”

“I just like not having to cook,” she admitted. “Anything else is bonus.”

From there, they exchanged pleasantries, asking one another about their respective work days, taking turns refilling one another’s wine glasses. They had moved on to the second bottle. Before long, almost two hours had passed and they had not yet paused to eat. But it didn’t seem to matter. Hungry or not, they were enjoying each other’s company and getting a bit tipsy on the wine. As their cheeks reddened, their hands got more frisky, their demeanours more relaxed.

“I suppose we should eat?” he offered without conviction.

“If you want,” came her half-assed reply, “but I’m not starving. I’m actually enjoying the company and conversation,” moving her hand from his knee to his chest and then up to his face. “This is really kind of nice,” she said as she playfully bit her bottom lip.

“You’re not wrong,” he agreed, moaning slightly at the feel of her touch.

He put down his glass of wine and cupped her face in both hands, drawing her closer to him. He kissed her lightly at first and then gradually built intensity, pushing his tongue passed her teeth, finding hers, they mutually explored one another’s mouths. They breathed heavily, their hands, following the cue from their curious tongues, soon began wandering around one another’s bodies.

“Hmmm,” Gwen murmured.

Warren audibly exhaled in response. “God damn, girl,” he groaned, taking a pause to collect himself.

“I think I’m a little bit drunk,” she said and she rubbed the back of her hand on her forehead, catching her breath. She giggled to herself, not quite sure if it was the wine or her libido that was making her feel light headed. “Probably a combination of both,”she mentally conceded.

“I might be too,” said Warren, almost by surprise. He had to acknowledge that he was feeling a little bit unsteady. He figured it had more to do with blood having rushed to his sex organs than it did with alcohol, however.

“I, uh, may need to lay down,” Gwen stated almost apologetically.

“Oh my god, sure”, yelped Warren, jumping to his feet. “Here, let me help you up. You can lay down in my room.”

“Sounds good,” she said, trying to smile, but feeling very weak.

“No funny business, I promise!”, he interjected, lest she think he was trying to take advantage.

Slowly and carefully, he led her down the hallway to his room, and gently encouraged her into somewhat of a recovery position on his bed. He lay down next to her, spooning with her, wrapping his left arm over hers and across her waist. He softly kissed her behind the ear and whispered, “You ok?”

“I’ll be good. I just need a few minutes,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, me too,” he whispered.

Within minutes, they dozed off. Fully clothed, platonically but intimately, they spent the rest of the night atop the bedspread, just holding one another. The world around them, and the bedroom in particular, continued to spin.