Freja looks around the cottage as if making mental notes to herself, going over an internal checklist. Once satisfied, she walks over to the foot of the bed where I lie and stands directly in front of me.
“Can I take coat?” she asks politely.
“Yes, thank you,” I reply and remove my coat and hat, setting them in her outstretched arms.
“Take scarf now… boots, too.” she insists.
“Um, of course. Thank you.” I reply, wanting to be a respectful guest.
I stand up and hand Freja the rest of my outerwear, noticing for the first time how good she smells; like peaches, warm milk and cinnamon.
Yummm.
“Thank you.” She replies in a polite, singsongy voice, repositioning to get a better grip on the clothing I’ve given her.
I sit down on the side of her bed, lounging comfortably. Freja walks over to a wooden coatrack by the door and starts to remove her coat and winter wear, neatly hanging each garment with detailed precision. To my surprise, when she’s removed all of her warmer outer clothing she doesn’t stop disrobing. She continues peeling off all the layers, neatly folding the rest of her clothing and setting them on a side table, one by one, until only thin thong panties and bra remain on her fit frame.
I watch this near-stranger with great inquisitiveness, enraptured by every detail of her amazing body, not moving a muscle.
She undoes her tidy, glossy braid and spins around to face me. I feel my breath catch in my throat.
Holy. Shit.
Freja is strikingly beautiful. Pure, unblemished porcelain skin, noble features, delicate shoulders, and a golden mane of pale hair flowing down past her shoulders to brush perfectly formed breasts. She can easily be in a fashion magazine.
My god. I feel my pussy tighten and quiver with desire. I can tell I am already very wet.
“I never been with woman before, Eva. But I always have want to, my whole life. Especially Jamaican,” she adds with a look of bliss, as if my ethnicity makes me an especially delightful treat she is about to nibble on.
This girl is bold. Even bolder than I.
Yes, please.
“It is a little warm in here,” I state, starting to remove the thick sweater I have over the rest of my clothing.
I pull it up and over my head and feel her brush up to me, helping me to remove it fully. Still keeping her eyes on me, she sets the sweater down on a nearby table, not bothering to fold it this time.
“You very pretty lady, Eva. I see you nude?”
Wow. That didn’t take long.
“Yes,” I reply in a breathy tone. I start to remove my stylish cotton t-shirt when she interrupts me.
“I want do that,” Freja declares in an uncharacteristically firm tone. “Here,” she says, grabbing my shirt, slipping it up over my head carefully.
Freja continues to remove the rest of my clothing except my yellow bra, and silky thong panties. She even takes off my socks, playfully batting my hand away when I try to help.
Fine, if you want to undress me, I’m certainly not gonna be picky about the details, I think to myself with a smile.
I sit on the edge of her bed and Freja slips her body between my knees, pressing herself nearer to me. She stands there in silence for a moment, her firm stomach and breasts dangerously close to my face. I am certain she can feel my breath on her skin.
What is she doing?
She stands there unmoving for a few more seconds, then I feel two hands dive into my thick mass of long, dark spiral curls. She lifts two full handfuls of hair off my neck and bends down a bit, drawing my face partially into her upper abdomen and bosom. Her skin is soft and smooth, pure perfection. I feel her chest heave upwards slightly and into my face as if she is inhaling my scent.
“Mmmmmmmmm.” She moans, making a drawn out sound. “Your hair smell of roses, Eva,” she says pleasantly.
I feel Freja let go of my hair and bend down more to reach for something. I close my eyes, anticipating her slender fingers unfastening my bra.
To my surprise, she suddenly straightens her body up and takes a step backwards, away from the bed. I blink my eyes open and look up.
“Here. I give you first hit,” Freja offers, holding a swirly blue bong in front of my face.
Right. I realize I’d completely forgotten about the weed as soon as I saw her in her panties.
“Thank you,” I reply, reaching for the glass pipe.
“Nude first. Then smoke,” she demands, dangling the pipe directly out of my reach like a carrot on a stick.
This girl’s gotta set of balls on her, I think, my fondness growing.
When in Rome… or in this case, Sweden.
I reach both arms behind my back and look up at her pretty face. “Is it alright if I do it myself?”
“Yes,” she replies, wide-eyed and waiting.
I unfasten my bra and set it aside, then calmly slide my panties down my legs and onto the floor. Freja follows my lead and gets completely undressed at the same time, leaving her undergarments in the pile I’ve started with my thongs.
Our eyes meet and I can tell she was is as aroused as I am, maybe even more so, if that’s even humanly possible. Without saying a word we just stay where we were, staring at each other hungrily, taking each other’s nakedness in.
I know it sounds strange, but I’m so aroused by the beautiful creature before me, I feel trapped in my own lust, frozen. Like my brain is disconnected to my muscles, unable to move anything but my eyes.
Somehow I know the same thing is happening to Freja as well.
A few more moments of silence pass between us, no sound other than the chill strains of the reggae playlist emanating from her computer.
A new song starts, jarring Freja out of her spell. She clears her throat and and blinks her eyelids a few times rapidly as if a bit shaken. She has a peculiar look on her face, like she is trying to process what has just happened between us, too.
I mean, we haven’t even kissed yet.
She gives me a curious look and then lights the bowl, taking a hit then passing it to me. We both smoke for a few minutes completely naked and not uttering a word, being unusually careful not to touch each other’s skin when passing the pipe. Almost like we’re both scared of the powerful sexual attraction between us.
Pure animal lust. A kind so oddly electric and raw, I’d yet to experience it with another woman until now.
I have a feeling this is about to be some of the hottest sex of my life.
We finish smoking and Freja is the first to break the silence.
“I kiss you, Eva? I really want kiss you.”
“Yes,” I reply softly as I recall one of the very first conversations my husband Rad and I’d had when we first started dating in high school. He and I had made it a rule from the very beginning to always discuss things openly in a supportive, caring manner.
“You mean you don’t care if I sleep with another women? I asked in a disbelieving tone, still believing my unorthodox relationship with Rad too good to be true.
“I mean — like sleeping with any woman, not another one…” I stopped mid sentence, frustrated by my inability to succinctly communicate my point to him. “Do you know what I mean?” I finally asked, looking into his eyes tentatively with a nervous expression.
“I get what you’re saying,” Rad said, a perplexed smile on his handsome face. “You’re asking: Do I care if you sleep with a woman AND me? Why would I care?” He inquired patiently, waiting for my response.