The Longing

It has been 10 years since we have laid eyes on each other. Behind my sunglasses, I watch you walk across the pretty, sun dappled square towards our table and the hypnotic power you have always had over me, has me rooted to my chair. I sit helplessly motionless as my stomach drops and blood rushes to my ears, the tiny, blonde hairs on my arms stand to attention on the goosebumps which have sprung up on every inch of my skin.

After all this time, how do you still have such an effect on me? Sure, my body is reacting to you, that's chemistry, isn't it? Face flushed, heart pumping, pulse beating in my throat and the drop. Oh, the drop. I read somewhere that feeling is your womb contracting, your body preparing you for what is to come...but not only does my body react to you, my mind is working overtime, eyes drinking in the sight of your tousled dark hair, your tanned skin, your dark eyes being hidden for now is a small mercy. Once you have them trained on me, I will be done for, I am certain of it.

You have reached the table, and I give a feeble wave and manage a closed lip smile in your direction as you swoop down on me with the obligatory two kisses by way of greeting. Through the blood rushing in my ears, I hear you say my name, the way you say it rewinds all the years since we last saw each other but you have already moved on to say hello to the next person. The moment I have been rehearsing repeatedly has gone by so fleetingly, simply gone in barely seconds. I can hardly take a breath, and I am struggling to remember the scent of your skin, your spiced cologne as you choose a seat directly opposite me. Your fingers with a smattering of dark hairs on the knuckles are curling around the top of the chair and I wonder how they would feel curling inside of me? Hitting that little rough spot inside of me as you stare mercilessly into my eyes. The thought makes me squirm in my seat, and I feel the heat of your gaze upon me behind the glasses, yet you are smiling and chatting with the rest of the table as you pull the chair out to sit.

Our companions shout and laugh around us, and I wonder how they can behave so normally, can't they feel the electricity that runs through me, crackling in the warm air that surrounds us? They may as well not be here at all because I am so painfully aware of you. Only you. I don't know where to put myself, my legs and arms feel suddenly apart from my body, out with my control. I flip my long, blonde hair back awkwardly, its weight is too much in this heat. How do I normally sit? Why have I never had to arrange myself before?

I watch your mouth as you order your drink, your soft, full lips part to show all those teeth inside, teeth which could tease my bottom lip, pull gently around my nipples, my folds, my aching clit. I am so wet for you already; I am conscious that I am leaving a mark on the seat. My silk skirt will be inadequate to conceal my true feelings for you, the silk underwear beneath is already soaked through. I imagine you discovering the strength of my desire after an agonisingly slow stroke from my knee upwards, your fingers dancing on the softness of my thigh as I daydream of you kissing my neck. I am melting, my core is clenching desperately around nothing as you continue your imaginary ascent.

In front of me, I watch as you take an ice cube from your glass and throw it into your mouth, the muscles in your jaw working as you chew through it. I am that ice cube, powerless, vanishing in the blazing heat between your lips as I think about the growl that would escape you when your fingers reach their goal and brush against the sopping silk covering the very center of me. I screw my eyes shut to try to block out the thoughts blazing inside my mind, painfully aware of the hardness of my nipples and the dimpled flesh of my areolas straining against my silk top. I purposefully chose this most delicate of fabrics to keep me cool in this Autumnal heat, but I now realise it was a foolish choice to wear around you. The fragile fabric has left me defenseless in your vortex and I feel as though I have been laid bare in front of you. Bullet hard nipples plain for all to see, the tell tale mark my ardour has left on my flimsy skirt will be obvious to all when I must stand up. My face blushes harder still as I suddenly wonder, in a panic, is the scent of my yearning for you emanating from underneath me? Can you smell my arousal?

My lips part and I inhale sharply as the excruciating thought occurs to me while your stubbled throat contracts as you swallow the remains of your glass. The droplets of condensation drip down over your fingers and the sudden noise of you placing the empty glass back on to the table makes me look up. You are sitting so close to me; I could reach out and touch you across the table. I am looking directly into your eyes before I realise that you have removed your sunglasses, and I let out a whisper of a moan as I see what lies beneath. A small smile is playing at the corners of your mouth. Your eyes are bottomless pools of deepest chocolate, and they are not smiling back at me.

They are hard, staring directly into my soul as you tip your head back slightly and sniff the air, pink tongue darting out to slowly lick around those pillowy lips. You cannot possibly have caught my scent, can you? Despite your proximity, the knowing look on your face makes me gulp air as I am forced to accept that I have answered my own question. I cannot maintain the eye contact; it is too intense. I am pinned to my seat as I feel your eyes roam over me, but I cannot resist looking back at you now that I can see your eyes. I must take another look at those black eyelashes, the lines around your eyes which have deepened as your eyes narrow, drinking me in. The small smile that has been playing around your lips stretches now, your mouth wide open, showing me all those lovely teeth inside, which could just devour me whole.

And so it begins...