“You look like you have something to celebrate,” Felix said, his voice a velvety caress cutting through the noise of the crowd. Lara turned around, a glass of white wine in her hand, and let her gaze slide over him. Ten years had passed, but his smile was still the same – an invitation, a challenge.
“And you look like you never left.” She remembered that look, the way he tilted his head slightly when he was up to something. The class reunion had been a crazy idea, but now that he stood before her, she didn’t regret a single second.
“Ten years,” he said softly, touching her arm. His fingers left goosebumps on her skin, even though the air in the hall was warm and heavy. “Longer than we knew each other back then.”
“You’re married,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. The rumor mill had told her, through friends, through fleeting mentions. He wasn’t wearing a ring, but that meant nothing.
“And you?” he asked, without answering her question. His eyes bored into hers.
“Separated. For two years.” She took a sip of wine, which turned bitter on her tongue, and looked over the rim of her glass into his eyes. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
“Where are you, then?” he asked, and his voice was suddenly rough, like gravel under her feet.
Lara set down the glass. The sound echoed softly. She placed her hand on his, felt his warmth, the slight moisture. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”
The Recognition
They went out onto the terrace. The glass door clicked shut, cutting off the noise of the music – only a dull bass remained, vibrating through the panes. The night was cool, but Lara’s skin burned. Felix leaned against the railing, arms crossed, and looked at her as if solving a puzzle he already knew.
“I’ve thought about you often,” he said. “About that one night, after the prom. Do you remember?”
Lara nodded. His father’s car, the cramped back seat, the smell of leather and perfume. His hands under her dress, rediscovering her body. It had been the first time she understood what it meant to let go completely.
“Back then, I thought it was the beginning of something big,” he continued. “But then we were torn apart. College, moving, life.”
“And now,” she said, stepping closer until only a breath of space remained between them – the air crackled, “now we’re both here. Married, separated, it doesn’t matter. What counts is this moment.”
He reached for her hand and gently pulled her to him. “I don’t want to lie to you. I’m still married. But in this moment, I only want you.”
Lara felt her heart pound against her ribs. She knew this was wrong, that it would mean pain for someone, someday. But the warmth of his body, the familiar scent of his skin – a mix of salt and cedarwood – erased all thoughts. She lifted her head, looked into his eyes, and then she kissed him.
The Hotel Bar
The kiss was gentle, almost hesitant, but when Felix returned her lips with his, it grew hungrier. His hand slid into her neck, pulling her closer. Lara’s fingers clawed into his shirt, feeling the firm fabric, the warmth beneath, the slight tension of his muscles.
“We can’t do this here,” he murmured against her mouth. “Too many people.”
“I have a room in the hotel,” she whispered. “On the third floor.”
He laughed softly, a rumble that made her skin tingle. “You planned this, didn’t you?”
“No. But I had a feeling.” She took his hand, their fingers intertwining, and led him through the side door back into the building, past the restroom, to the elevator. The cabin was empty, and as soon as the door closed, he pressed her against the wall, his hands on her hips, his hips against hers.
“I’ve missed you,” he said hoarsely. “More than I want to admit.”
Lara didn’t answer. She pulled his head down and kissed him, this time more demandingly. Their tongues met, and she tasted whisky and salt. The elevator stopped with a soft ping, and they stepped out into the quiet hallway. Her room number was 312, and as she unlocked the door, her hands trembled.
The Room
The room was dark except for the city light filtering through the curtains – an orange glow casting shadows. Lara didn’t turn on a lamp. She led Felix to the bed, their lips still locked, their hands starting to remove clothing. His shirt slid off his shoulders, and she let her fingers glide over his chest, over the slight muscles, the scar on his side from an accident years ago, which felt like a secret map under her fingertips.
“You’re still so beautiful,” he said, unzipping her dress. The fabric fell to the floor, and she stood before him in only a black lace bra and a thin thong. His breath caught, his eyes widened.
“Take me,” she whispered.
He unfastened her bra, and the straps slid over her shoulders. His hands cupped her breasts, her nipples hard under his thumbs. She moaned softly and pressed against him. He bent forward and took one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently, while his hand massaged the other, circling, squeezing. Lara buried her fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.
“I want to feel you,” she said, her voice barely a scratch in her throat.
He dropped to his knees, slowly pulling her thong down over her hips, his lips following the fabric, kissing her stomach, her mound. She felt his breath on her skin, hot and impatient. Then he spread her legs and put his mouth on her.
The Foreplay
Lara gasped as his tongue met her. Soft at first, then circling, exploring. She leaned back against the bed, her hands in his hair, and let go. His hands held her thighs, spreading them wider, as his tongue delved deeper, found her clit and caressed it, sometimes with the tip, sometimes flat. She bit her lips to stay quiet, but a moan escaped her anyway, deep and throaty.
“Oh God, Felix,” she panted.
He increased the pressure, and she felt the tension build in her lower belly, like a knot slowly tightening. His mouth was demanding but tender, a rhythm that pushed her to the edge and then pulled her back. She wanted him inside her, but this moment was too good to end. She let her hips circle against his face, and he followed every movement, his tongue unrelenting.
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