As if sensing it was my turn to take the lead, Yulia waited with a patient smile, her cerulean eyes locked on mine. Suddenly, my gaze faltered, slipping from hers like water through fingers. It darted across the shop—the pastel walls, the cashier sneaking glances my way, the glistening pastries, then the couple murmuring softly in the corner.
A strange pressure seized me, unlike anything I'd felt before. It coiled tight around my chest, strangling the simple question I meant to ask. All I needed was to mirror her curiosity, to probe something—anything—about her life, yet the words stuck, heavy and elusive.
Though it felt like an eternity, Yulia remained silent, her expectancy a quiet trust. She didn't push, didn't prod—just waited, her stillness amplifying her allure. That serene beauty drew me back, and I found myself staring into her eyes, mouth slightly agape, caught in the gravity of her gaze.
"I…" My throat rasped, parched despite the chilled service water I'd sipped. It did nothing to soothe the desert scorching my voicebox. "I-Is… your hair a natural color…" The question stumbled out, clumsy and unbidden, my eyes snagging on the snowy cascade framing Yulia's face just beyond her piercing gaze.
Her reaction dazzled—a crystalline snowflake catching sunlight, radiant and alive. "I'm glad you asked!" she chirped, her hand darting to my silvery hair, ruffling the neat middle part with playful abandon. "It's naturally white—I have albinism!" Her enthusiasm bubbled over, infectious.
"Good job, Jona. Proud of you!" There it was: that warm, motherly tone, laced with care. Whether she had kids or not, her age—Ophelia-knows-how-much older than me—wrapped her words in a nurturing glow.
"That, and I'm also a yuki-onna." Her grin widened, a hint of mischief in it. That explained her aversion to spicy foods—she might just melt.
"D… do you melt when you eat spicy things?" The thought slipped free before I could catch it, raw and unguarded.
Yulia's giggle danced through the air. "Yes, I get smaller! If I sweat enough from the heat, I shrink back to my young adult body." She fumbled with her phone, scrolling with frantic excitement, then thrust it toward me.
A photo glowed on the screen: Yulia in her twenties, long wavy hair spilling over smart-casual clothes, those striking white lashes and cobalt eyes unchanged, timeless. She already had such a prominent hourglass figure, and comparing it to now, it just felt like... she got even sexier.
"I didn't know yuki-onna aged like fine wine." I don't know where I got this, but it too slipped out of me, earning a playful smack on my arm. "You! You're such a smooth-talker!" She'd pout with a faint blush and a childish smile.
Our food arrived then, a vibrant tableau set before us. Yulia's plate of white, blue, and purple pasta, paired with her latte, looked like a masterpiece plucked from a canvas. An itch stirred in me, urging my hand toward my phone. I hesitated, thumb hovering over the camera, before glancing at her. "Is… is it okay if I take a picture of you with your food?"
I'd framed it to exclude myself, wary of crossing lines. "Sounds nice—come, sit beside me!" she chirped, patting the space next to her, pulling me shoulder-to-shoulder before I could protest.
"Are you sure? I just wanted a shot of you, so it's not suspicious…" I murmured, treading carefully, mindful of boundaries.
"Suspicious to who?" Her brow arched, a playful challenge in her tone as she peered up at me. My gaze dropped to her hands curling around my arm—no ring gleamed there.
Single, or slipped off for the date? A question too heavy to broach in this light air.
"It's okay," she soothed, her voice a soft balm. One hand slid across my chest, a blue, pointed nail tracing a faint line over my sternum, sending a shiver through me. "He wouldn't care." There it was—confirmation, subtle but clear. With that, snapping a picture felt safe, permissible.
I'd only ever snapped selfies or shots of nature, so framing two people felt awkward, unfamiliar. The camera app's grid steadied me: Yulia centered, her vibrant food spilling to the right, my form edging in on the left—barely there, just a sliver. All I'd wanted was her and the meal in focus.
Still, I couldn't ignore how her breasts pressed against my bicep, swallowing it in their softness. Her bra was so faint—little more than cotton and warm skin—that the boundary between fabric and flesh blurred.
Snap! The shutter clicked, capturing a mostly innocent scene. I tilted the phone toward her, and she nodded with a pleased hum. "Want another one?" she asked, her voice carrying a new gleam, a low smile curling her lips. A shiver raced down my spine, sharp and electric.
"Ah, it feels a little hot with you beside me…" she murmured, fanning herself with a lazy hand. Then, with a teasing finger, she tugged the collar of her sweater down, revealing a light blue bra cradling a milky expanse of cleavage—an abyss that drew my breath short.
My thumb lingered over the screen, hesitant, before—snap—the shutter clicked. "Are you sure this is okay…?" I asked again, voice low, seeking that final reassurance.
"Yep! Use it however you'd like—just no sharing!" She pressed a finger to my lips, then leaned in, her breath a warm whisper against my ear. "This is just for you. Be a good boy and accept it, okay?" Her words slithered through me, sultry and commanding.
"Yes, ma'am…" Heat erupted in my core, a wildfire surging through my veins. For a woman carved from snow, she wielded a torch that set me ablaze. I felt my arousal stir, pulsing against the taut fabric of my jeans, straining the zipper's cage.
"Miss! I like that better than ma'am," she corrected with a playful grin, tapping my chest twice—a sharp, deliberate signal. "Come on, let's eat!"
And so we ate. In a delightful twist, we split our dishes down the middle, sharing halves with each other while savoring the dregs of our drinks.
My Galaxy Risotto was a creamy dream, its orzo laced with subtle fruit notes that danced on my tongue—sweet, unexpected. The Drop of Jupiter unfolded in layers: rich cream, a swirl of caramel, tart raspberry syrup, all grounded in a smooth milk tea base. Candy rings crowned the rim, and I couldn't help but lick them as I sipped, their sugar melting into the mix.
Despite the steep price tag, I'd walked away with more than a free meal—something warmer, sweeter, lingered beyond the flavors.
"The food was pretty good, huh?" Yulia chirped, dipping in front of me and walking backward, her snowy hair swaying with each step.
"Cloudia? Yeah, their service is unique. I liked the bold themes in the flavors," I replied, still savoring the creamy orzo and tart raspberry on my tongue. Her face shifted—a sudden pout puckering her lips.
"You're not thinking about the cashier, are you?" She narrowed her eyes, one brow arching in playful accusation. Was that jealousy flickering in her gaze?
"She was? I barely noticed—I was too caught up in the food," I said, shrugging. Her expression didn't soften, the snow lady's coolness lingering, unthawed.
"Sure was! She couldn't stop staring at you!" Yulia huffed, crossing her arms with a dramatic flair.
Just then, I spotted a man two steps from barreling into her. "Watch out," I warned, instincts kicking in. I tugged her into my arms, pulling her close as he brushed past, her warmth pressing against me in a fleeting, steadying embrace.
"Mmmn…" Yulia's face nestled deeper into my pecs, her breath warm against my shirt. I expected her to pull away, but she lingered, a soft inhale betraying her intent—she was drinking in my scent. "Thanks, big boy," she murmured, her delicate arms slipping around me, light yet possessive.
"Just looking out for you," I replied, wrapping my arms around her in return. Her softness molded to the bulk of my forearms, pliant like fresh snow, a paradox of warmth and chill that set my nerves alight. Maybe it was me teetering on the edge.
"I can feel it poking against my stomach, Jona," she whispered, tilting her head up, cheek pressed to my chest. Her cobalt eyes shimmered with a mysterious pull, ensnaring me. Then came the bombshell: "Were you expecting something from this date?"
I froze, staring at her for a heartbeat too long, scrambling to steady myself.
"It's just… a natural reaction to a beautiful lady like you, Miss Yulia…" A dodge, weak and evasive.\
"Answer me, Jona." Her voice hardened, firm but not harsh, those piercing eyes pinning me in place.
"I… only if you're okay with it…" I blurted, gaze skittering away, heat creeping up my neck.
"Okay with what, mmm?" she prodded, a teasing finger tracing slow circles over my left pec. She was coaxing it out of me, daring me to name it.
"Will you… Are you staying the night?" The question slipped out, tentative and roundabout, my voice barely above a whisper. I hadn't planned for this—not on my first date—but she'd pried it from me, and now doubt gnawed at me. Should I have dodged? Said no?
Yulia fell silent, pondering, then burrowed back into my pecs like a baby bird seeking shelter. Her snowy hair brushed my chin, soft and cool against my skin.
"Are you okay with an old lady like me?" Her voice came muffled, pouty, vibrating against my chest. "Don't you like girls your age?" The words felt flimsy, a half-hearted excuse—or maybe a test, probing my tastes, waiting to see how I'd bend.
"I'm not really interested…" I murmured, my mind drifting to the last confession I'd fumbled—some girl I barely noticed, lost to distraction. Now, an older woman nestled against me, fishing for excuses to sidestep my clumsy invitation.
"I'd prefer you, Miss Yulia," I declared, my voice firm with resolve. My arms tightened around her, drawing her closer. Her body quivered beneath my grip—a subtle twitch rippling through her. Was that a good sign?
"Mm," she hummed, a faint nod brushing her cheek against my chest. "You passed." My heart lurched, pounding wildly against my ribs, a frantic rhythm she must've felt thrum against her ear.
"Do you have a place?" she asked, her voice low, testing the air between us.
"Yes, I do," I replied, confidence steady in my voice. The bed was plenty big for two—even more than enough.
"Car?" she whispered, her breath grazing my ear.
"Yes," I confirmed, nodding once.
"…okay." She tilted her head up, eyes hazy with a quiet storm, locking onto mine with a nod.
Only then did it hit me—we still had the day sprawling ahead. A glance at my watch read [ 12:45 PM ]. We hadn't even brushed the edge of our planned meeting time. Caught up in the thrill of this chance encounter, we'd collided early, and now the air thrummed with the pull to drive back to my place, to surrender to the heat simmering between us.
"But it's still…" I started, voice faltering as reason clawed for footing. Her arms squeezed me tighter, cutting me off.
"Does it need to be night?" Yulia's tone dipped, pouty and insistent, like a child demanding her prize now, not later. Adorable, irresistible.
"I just thought—" My attempt at logic sputtered, snuffed out.
"Take all my time, then. You have until tomorrow." Her words landed bold and unshakable. She wanted to claim my apartment until the next day? Not just for sex, surely, but the thought alone…
The image flared—staining the sheets with our mingled heat, her melting under my hands, my length carving into her, shaping her insides to fit me. I could last, I knew it—especially with Yulia. The fantasy coiled tight, dangerous, igniting a reckless edge in my mind.
"Then let's go."