Monday, February 07, 2005
"Why are you in such a hurry?"
No answer. You're too busy dragging me through the mall, headed who knows where, late for who knows what. Sometimes surprises are wonderful, but after the last surprise you gave me, I'm a little bit reluctant to find out what this one is.
"Here." "Okay, what am I supposed to be seeing here?" "Those," you reply, as you point to an item in the window.
"They are very pretty, but why the rush?"
"Someone else might have gotten them. Go. Now. Before they're gone."
I go into the store, and yes, they are beautiful. And they flatter me. And they accomplish everything you could want them to accomplish. The fact that you're always right is both endearing and really irritating. And you know it. I can tell by the smug look on your face as you watch me through the window.
I pull out the credit card, and your smirk turns into a grin.
As I meet you at the entrance to the store, you reach for my hand once again. "Now we can go."
Once again we're strolling through the mall, looking in the windows. No more rush, and I'll never understand the reason you were so determined to get me into that store, but you seem happy, so I'm not going to question you.
We work our way out to the parking lot, half empty at this hour. The car is toward the back of the lot, and we walk toward it, laughing and talking together. As we approach my side of the car, you spin me around and press me up against the door. You wrap your arms around me and kiss me, and my knees turn to jello. You lean in close enough to whisper in my ear, "Turn around."
I hesitate, pulling my head back to look at you. You say it again. "Turn around."
I comply, not really understanding why you want this, but believing you have your reasons. You rarely do anything without having thought through it, so I turn around to face the car.
I feel your body against my back, your arms around me. It is wonderful. You feel so good next to me, I don't really want to get in the car at all. You run a hand down my side, my waist, my hip, my thigh. I can't remember the last time I felt this good.
The hand on my thigh moves upward, lifting the back of my skirt.
No answer. You're too busy dragging me through the mall, headed who knows where, late for who knows what. Sometimes surprises are wonderful, but after the last surprise you gave me, I'm a little bit reluctant to find out what this one is.
"Here." "Okay, what am I supposed to be seeing here?" "Those," you reply, as you point to an item in the window.
"They are very pretty, but why the rush?"
"Someone else might have gotten them. Go. Now. Before they're gone."
I go into the store, and yes, they are beautiful. And they flatter me. And they accomplish everything you could want them to accomplish. The fact that you're always right is both endearing and really irritating. And you know it. I can tell by the smug look on your face as you watch me through the window.
I pull out the credit card, and your smirk turns into a grin.
As I meet you at the entrance to the store, you reach for my hand once again. "Now we can go."
Once again we're strolling through the mall, looking in the windows. No more rush, and I'll never understand the reason you were so determined to get me into that store, but you seem happy, so I'm not going to question you.
We work our way out to the parking lot, half empty at this hour. The car is toward the back of the lot, and we walk toward it, laughing and talking together. As we approach my side of the car, you spin me around and press me up against the door. You wrap your arms around me and kiss me, and my knees turn to jello. You lean in close enough to whisper in my ear, "Turn around."
I hesitate, pulling my head back to look at you. You say it again. "Turn around."
I comply, not really understanding why you want this, but believing you have your reasons. You rarely do anything without having thought through it, so I turn around to face the car.
I feel your body against my back, your arms around me. It is wonderful. You feel so good next to me, I don't really want to get in the car at all. You run a hand down my side, my waist, my hip, my thigh. I can't remember the last time I felt this good.
The hand on my thigh moves upward, lifting the back of my skirt.
