Morning mail delivery

It was a clear and fresh morning when Clara opened the door and let the fresh breeze in. She always had a soft spot for those early hours — the soft light that lit up the world around her and the promised secrets of the day. Her apartment in the heart of the city was tastefully furnished, with a touch of creativity and seduction. The walls were decorated in warm tones and the light came through the windows that opened onto the small balcony. Just as Clara was making herself a cup of coffee, she heard a doorbell ring. It was the mailman, a good-looking man with a charming smile that made her heart beat faster. His name was Lukas; she had only seen him a few times, but each time she felt an exciting tension in the air. “Good morning!” , he said and handed her a package. His hands touched hers briefly and an electric shiver ran down her arm. “I hope it's nothing important.” Clara replied with a mischievous smile: “Maybe it's something for you?” “What could it be?” , Lukas asked and leaned slightly against the door frame, eyes on her. She felt the tingling between them, the unspoken thoughts and wishes that floated between their bodies like an invisible bond. With a playful sparkle in her eyes, she opened the package. A whiff of perfume came from the packaging she had ordered during the nightly delivery. “It smells wonderful,” Lukas remarked as he stepped a bit closer. Clara struggled with the urge to draw him closer and reveal her most secret wishes to him. She wanted to do more than just talk to each other; she wanted to feel the tension that tingled between them in the room. She couldn't resist anymore. “Would you like to come in? I've just had freshly brewed coffee.” A slight smile crept across his face, which sounded like a promise to Clara. Lukas only hesitated for a moment, then stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him. It felt like time stood still. The room was filled with delicate energy as they made their way into the kitchen. Clara could hear her heart beating as she looked at him in the twilight of the morning sun. Close together, their postures relaxed, yet the air seemed to crackle as if every moment was filled with an imminent touch. As she handed him a cup, her hands touched again, and this connection was more intense than before. “You know, sometimes you wonder how things start,” Clara muttered, looking at him holding him without finishing the words.