A song on the radio stirs my excitement. All day my nipples ache, my cunt pounds, my body is wreaked with longing. I am sitting in a smoky bar, it’s late, the music slow, fierce, indie. Something about knowing you, feeling you, touching you. She is over at the bar, glowingly lit up by the soft lights, and I drink her up with my eyes, the enticing skin of her arms, the arc of her neck, her hair fastened up with a clip. The sensual lips in profile that causes a steady yearning in my gut. She can feel my eyes on her. All night, she has been sitting there with some friends, and I’ve been stuck in this corner, not even daring to use the bathroom for fear she will be gone when I return. My body a hard knot of arousal. No one should look that good.
Then, I can see her ordering two drinks, neat whiskys, saying something to the friend, taking a glass in each hand and getting out of her seat. As she walks over, her eyes are focused on the glass in her right hand, and my heart is pounding like crazy, the flow of her dress entrances me, the narrow legs in dark blue jeans, the well-worn leather shoes with rounded toes. Each step makes me want her more, like an invisible thread of energy running between us, pulling us together, but she won’t look, she is still too shy.
”I brought you a drink,” she says, standing at my side, finally looking at me. Her expression is intense, unsmiling. She looks serious, a red glow to her cheeks and temples.
I move over in my seat, make space for her to sit. She does.
We talk until closing time. Every time our limbs touch, a tremour of excitement courses through me. I want, I want, I want. So much. Too much. I can’t let her go.
Her friends go off, one after the other. They come over to say goodbye, have fun, call me. I can see them glancing at me, brimming with curiosity. She stays, not even a hint of getting up, it’s getting late, maybe I should go. Finally the keeper calls the final orders, and she starts putting on her coat, slowly, regretfully. I’ve got to think of something, quick.
”Would you like to come home with me? For a cup of tea, I mean! You said you…”
Then she smiles that full-blown, high-voltage, North Pole-melting smile that always gets me, that makes my ears start to roar, my whole body turn into a gooey puddle at her feet. Oh yes. That smile.
”I’d love to.”
But we never reach the kitchen. Instead, just inside the door, I turn to her, and her face is lovely, so open and inviting, I have to touch it, I take it in my hands, and then there is nothing for it, I have to kiss her, a light kiss that slowly goes deeper, and her hands are on me, around me, quick as mice, caressing me out of my jacket, going under my shirt to touch my skin. She sighs with pleasure, with longing, and I pick her up, it’s faster, and carry her, kissing and fondling me, in to the bed.