‘I’d like to know what’s under that skirt,’ he said, ducking his head a little as though he could peer up it from across the kitchen.
‘Too bad,’ Kara said, but she shifted in her heels as she spoke, remembering how exposed she was underneath the thin skirt.
‘You owe me a favour, remember?’
‘Not now,’ Kara said.
‘Show me,’ he said, standing his ground and not moving a muscle. He had one hand in his pocket and something in the way he stood, that cocky, slovenly slouch, seemed like a challenge. Kara hesitated. The thought of showing him her artfully dressed crotch was appealing. She knew exactly what effect it would have on him, and her body was longing for gratification after a sleepless night and a whole morning spent thinking about fucking Mike.
Standing with her back to the kitchen counter, Kara bent and lifted the hem of her skirt. She pulled it upwards, slowly revealing her stocking-clad legs and the creamy skin that was bare at the top. Tam waited, like a cat watching its prey, his body held utterly still. When Kara’s skirt was high enough for him to catch sight of her naked pussy he took a deep breath. She knew that he was taking it all in – the neatly trimmed black hair, the cleft between her legs where her thighs were pressed tightly together.
Displaying herself like this was enough to make Kara squirm, standing like a doll in front of Tam’s hungry gaze and itching to have him cover the distance between them, break the tension, turn this strange exhibition into a sex scene already.
But he seemed in no hurry.
‘Turn around,’ he said, ‘put your hands on the counter and bend forward.’