House Date
The sun hit the panes of my widow, its light fading from view as it sinks further behind the clouds, I look at my reflection in the mirror, wandering if my romantic look is too much for a house date. I have put on a simple but elegant black dress, it clings to every curve of my body accentuating my perky boobs and ample hips. I can see him now walking in through the door, takeout in hand. His jaw line is perfect but I’m not thinking about that, I’m thinking about how it will feel to rip of that white shirt he’s wearing and expose the muscles that barely hide beneath. I’m thinking about his lips will feel pressed up against mine and how every fibre of my being will crave him, will begin to pull him forward into me and I moan in the ecstasy of that thought.