Monday, February 21, 2005
You, you're laughing at me. I can see it in your eyes. I sometimes think you enjoy playing with my mind even more than... strike that. Not more than. Maybe a close second, though.
I stick my tongue out at you, just to let you know I've caught on. You respond by pulling me up and over, so I end up sitting on your lap, facing you, my knees half buried in the sand. My skirt has flared out, and is covering us both, although beneath it I am still caressing you with my fingertips.
You wrap your arm around me and pull me close. Very close. You are holding me so tightly that my face is buried in your chest, and while I'm thinking how wonderfully romantic you are, I hear it. Oh, God. A voice. Talking to you from the sea wall. You can't be seen with me - it would be a disaster. So I huddle there, face averted, hoping that whoever it is won't ask about or speak directly to me.
You continue to make small talk, and all of a sudden it hits me. I know this guy. I mean, I know the voice. I can't put a face with it at this moment, but this is someone I talk with on a regular basis. Why do we come to this beach again?
"I know him," I hiss, and you start stroking my hair, effectively hiding my face from his view with your hand. I can't help thinking that you should really be encouraging this guy to go away rather than exchanging gossip with him, when you tell him good bye, wait a few seconds, and lift my chin so I'm looking at your face instead of your shirt.
You draw me closer, making me get up on my knees to avoid straining my neck. You pull me forward, and I feel you beneath me. "Here? Now? Still?" I ask. Your reply comes in the form of a quick thrust, and then you're inside me.
I stick my tongue out at you, just to let you know I've caught on. You respond by pulling me up and over, so I end up sitting on your lap, facing you, my knees half buried in the sand. My skirt has flared out, and is covering us both, although beneath it I am still caressing you with my fingertips.
You wrap your arm around me and pull me close. Very close. You are holding me so tightly that my face is buried in your chest, and while I'm thinking how wonderfully romantic you are, I hear it. Oh, God. A voice. Talking to you from the sea wall. You can't be seen with me - it would be a disaster. So I huddle there, face averted, hoping that whoever it is won't ask about or speak directly to me.
You continue to make small talk, and all of a sudden it hits me. I know this guy. I mean, I know the voice. I can't put a face with it at this moment, but this is someone I talk with on a regular basis. Why do we come to this beach again?
"I know him," I hiss, and you start stroking my hair, effectively hiding my face from his view with your hand. I can't help thinking that you should really be encouraging this guy to go away rather than exchanging gossip with him, when you tell him good bye, wait a few seconds, and lift my chin so I'm looking at your face instead of your shirt.
You draw me closer, making me get up on my knees to avoid straining my neck. You pull me forward, and I feel you beneath me. "Here? Now? Still?" I ask. Your reply comes in the form of a quick thrust, and then you're inside me.
