This isn’t very smart. I’m going to a stranger’s place for the first time that we’re meeting. He could be a catfish, he could be a murderer, he may let me in and I may never come out.
As I strut down the long hallway of the hotel, I imagined his face when he would see me in my attire: three inch heels; tight, black, short skirt; red lips; and black eyeliner. I smirked to myself, thinking of hands pulling me into the room and hoisting my legs around his waist; skirt riding up around my ass. I started to feel warm and excited the closer I clicked towards the room in my high heels and reminisced of the last time I saw him:
On this day 10 years ago, I broke off our engagement. I know, Valentine's Day... I'm a savage. But I can't help but wonder if I had remained true to myself, where would we both be? What would have happened if I allowed my yeses to be yeses and my nos be nos?
My whole body jumps as your fingers titillate my nipple. I can't help it, I'm sensitive. Your hand roams under my shirt as we spoon, NOT watching the movie on your TV.
Damn you. Damn your delicious body and your perfectly groomed facial hair. All I ever want to do is run my fingers along your face, muscles, flesh and as Meg Myers put it: "skin you with my tongue." It's not fair that I get turned on just by looking at you. I'm so annoyed with myself but all I can do is think of that last time...