He wants me.
“Naked,” crosses my lips as our eyes meet.
He releases the slightest gasp as he attempts to remember the question.
Sensuously, I continue, “standing in the shower, hot sprays of pulsating water carrying away all my inhibitions,” as my hands run through the long wavy auburn strands resting on my shoulders.
“What did she say? What was it? ‘A true life storyteller.’ She must write about her sex life!” The annals of his mind following the water down, down, down.
“My mind drifts into my past and I remember an encounter most couldn’t imagine but would relate to,” expanding ever so slightly.
“Her number has to be at least 100. She's been single more than 10 years. Yeah, gotta be triple digits to have enough experiences to write successfully,” he continues sinking.
Gesturing as I speak, “every detail is important. Not just who, what, when, where, and why but the reflection of every sense triggered. The lightest brush of a finger across a hand, a simple nod, and eyes meeting can be foreplay …(looking away) or two familiar yet platonic people crossing paths.”
“She is definitely into me but on the first date? Should I play it cool or hit it, one and done? Damn she is so sexy.” Falling, falling, falling.
Capturing his gaze once more, “after I have every detail pulled from my memories, …I work on all the punch lines,” quickly slides out as I swipe my drink from the table and recline into my chair. “Life is all about the laughs.”
Grin and giggle.
XOXO