His fingers drifted slowly across my back, starting at the shoulder blade before drifting down and across to trail off at my spine. Maybe it was an innocent touch. Perhaps a passing gesture of casual friendship, but if that was his intent, my body failed to understand.

Despite the softness of the contact, the tips of his fingers burned through the fabric of my winter jacket, leaving a blazing trail across my skin. Rational thought stalled. In that moment the room went silent, I ceased to breathe, time faltered and every nerve ending in my skin exploded into life.

The flush started on my chest, moved up my neck and erupted on my cheeks. The hairs on my arms stood on end, reaching out for him. A wave of warmth surged through my cunt, releasing liquid desire. The ache of need shook my soul.

An infinity later the impulses of instinct calmed and sense returned. In a trick of time my wine was still settling into the glass, droplets of condensation yet to form. The wine waiter was gone; the wine and scorched skin of my back the only evidence that I had been served.

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