I fidget with the hem of my skirt as the car pulls into a parking spot. The gas station looks seedy at best, but when you're in the middle of downtown LA I suppose seedy can be taken as a compliment. The setting sun casts shadows in areas while highlighting others. The stark contrast in lighting draws my eyes and the artistic side of my brain can't help but acknowledge that there's still some sort of weird appeal to the place. One of those grungy, run down, "here's some reality for you" types of beauty.
You put the car into park, causing it to lurch a bit, bringing me back to the here and now and out from the never ending trails of thought in my head. I look over at you, then back down to the hem that I've been playing with on and off all day. The girly-ness of my outfit is still new to me, foreign, odd. I press my knees together feeling the skin of my thighs touching. The sensation is so much different than the feeling of when I'm in my gym shorts or yoga pants.
Tom-boy me in a skirt... Odder things have happened, but at the moment, with adrenalin beginning to pour into my blood stream, I'm hard-pressed to remember what they are.
"Follow me," your words are so few, and yet so heavy. I feel my brain being to go into hyper drive.
What will happen if I follow you? Is this all just irrational build up in my head? Is this me reading too far into things? Am I making something out of nothing? I mean, really. This could be a simple stop for who knows what. Soda, chips? We're supposed to watch a movie later tonight after all. What's a movie without snacks?
But what if it's more? Like earlier. Like how you told me to lay down on the bed in the hotel room. What if it turns into more like that did as your hands slid up my legs slowly tugging down my panties as I bit my lip, gripping the sheets as you drew out that action with agonizing deliberation.
What if this is one of those naughty things we've talked about? One of those fantasies I've admitted to? What if this is something that I should be dripping over at just the though of happening?
What if it's everything? What if it's nothing? What if, what if, what if?
All of this, racing through my head in a span of seconds at just your words. All of this wonder and worry, thrill and fear, and the only way to know is to do what you said. I'll only know what this is if I follow you.
I bite my lip. Chewing. Thinking. Analyzing.
Do I want to know?
Even as I think the question I know I do. I want to know. The tightness between my thighs, the wetness I can feel already beginning to gather, answers for me even as the of hint nervousness within me plants itself firmly within my consciousness.
What happens if it's nothing? What happens if I'm getting all worked up and it's just a pit stop?
Hush, I tell my evil little voice, my voice of doubt, as my hand pulls on the door handle. I ease out of the car as you do, smoothing out the skirt as I stand in the setting sun. The light makes me raise my hand to cover my eyes as I walk up to the building, meeting you in front of the car.
You take my hand, gently, but firmly, causing me to lower my head as my makeshift shield against the sun is pulled down. I walk with you, mildly forced to do so unless I put in effort to pull my hand free from yours. I could stop this. I could not follow...
But I want to follow. I want to know. So I walk, squinting down at the gum speckled concert.
We don't go far. Only to the side of the building. I'm able to barely make out the sign for a unisex bathroom, the sudden apparent darkness from the shadows a drastic contrast from the blinding light of just a moment before.
My mind has enough reason to see the line I crossing. Just a foot back is the light. The safety. The known. I'm moving into the darkness. The secret. The corruptive temptation of the unknown.
Does this make me low? Does this make me as less than? Should I be resisting? Is anything gained from denying myself the things I want?
So many thoughts swarming in my head, questions I don't have answers to plaguing me.
