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By wistful Date: 2001 Jun 22 Comment on this Work [[2001.06.22.00.45.6964]] |
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She smiles coyly as she slips his tshirt over her head. "You keeping that?" he says with a smile. She raises the collar to her eyes, peering over it at him, inhaling deeply. Clean, with a hint of cologne. Like him. "Do you mind?" "No problem. I've got another shirt in here somewhere. A good scout is always prepared!" As he pulls a wrinkled shirt out of his bag with a flourish, he snaps to a salute, slapping the shirt in his own face. His smile widens across his face as he watches her dissolve into giggles. She sits on the couch, watching him as he buttons his shirt. He leans over her, cupping her cheek in his palm. He kisses her softly, deeply, as she rises to her knees to hold him closer. "Hmmm. I'll never leave if you keep this up." "Bwaahahaha!" she breaths in his ear in low, maniacal tones. "All part of my master plan, slave!" After raising one wicked eyebrow, she suddenly grins and bounces to her feet to peck him on the chin. He stares down at her, grabbing her firmly by the hips. And with a small, satisfied grunt, he squeezes her once, grabs his bag, and leaves. "I'll call you later" he says as he walks backwards towards his car. "Okay. Bye" She peers around the doorframe, careful to conceal her tshirt clad body from the neighbors. And as she leans against the closed door, listening to his car pull out of the driveway, she thinks to herself. Funny. The first time usually makes me feel vulnerable. Insecure. Will he call? Was it okay? Was this all he wanted? Will he lose interest in me? But this time, all she felt was . . . content. Sated. She smiles again as she hugs his tshirt to her body, rubbing her face in its softness, in his scent. As she picks up the dishes from the previous night's dinner, she hums to herself. What is that, a Beach Boys tune? "Something tells me I'm into something good . . ." |