When I cross my leg, my ankle collides with your calf. I lean forward, placing my elbows on the table and clasping my hands together. I lower my chin ever so slightly, letting it rest on my knotted fingers. The chime of silverware against plates echoes through the restaurant. The corner of my mouth curls to a half smile. My eyes cast down before lifting up and meeting your gaze. And that’s when I settle my foot against your leg and leave it there, as if that’s where it is supposed to be.
As you jiggle the key and release the lock, I lean into you. My chest curves against your back. I rise onto the balls of my feet, press my lips to the nape of your neck and linger there as I breathe you in, a salty sweetness laced with the evening air. I wrap one arm around your waist and curl two fingers under your belt. You release my grip, raise my hand to your mouth and kiss the inside of my wrist.
I kick off my heels and my bare feet carry me to the kitchen. While pouring a glass of wine, you come up behind me. You reach one hand around, press your fingers to the base of my neck and then slide down beneath the folds of my dress, under the lace shielding my breasts. I lean my head into your chest. I arch my back and open my mouth and I draw in a long breath. Between two extended fingers you pinch my nipple hard. And with my eyes closed and panties damp, you bring me back by tracing my lips with a wine soaked fingertip.
You can look but you can’t touch. Seated in the leather club chair, the scent of musk and want colliding in the air, I release the buckle of your belt. I lock my knees, bend at the waist and lean forward as I unbutton your shirt. My lips pout and part as I drag my hand across your stomach. I flip my hair and expose the length of my neck. I pull my lower lip over my teeth and lick it wet. As I lean closer, you reach between my legs. A warmth greets your hand. That is, until I halt your movement and whisper in your ear. “Not yet.”
I’m between your legs eyeing you eyeing me. I’m straddling your thigh and grinding against you as I take you deeper down my throat. I’m crawling up on top of you, lowering myself down as I push you into me. I’m sliding my hips in a paced motion before collapsing sweaty on your chest. You pull my lips to yours, pressing your tongue into my mouth. I grind harder, I slide faster and I moan louder.
Light from the streetlamp stripes the ceiling. I roll onto my side and watch you sleep. Your chest rises and falls, rises and falls. I remain at a distance, an outsider in my own world. Then, as the wind rustles the leaves and a car sputters up the road, I extend my foot and rest it against your leg. And when my lids are finally too heavy to hold open, I fall off to sleep.
It’s the bed slowly moving or the sheet suddenly shifting that wakes me. Or maybe it’s feeling you behind me, your body mimicking my curves and your flesh melting into mine. “Good morning,” you mumble as you pull me into you. I moan a groggy response before tugging your arm tighter around my waist and settling your flat palm between my breasts. I roll my head back, squint against the morning glare and I smile. You place a sweet kiss on my lips. And there we lay, together, tangled up as one.