Friday, November 04, 2005
I put my head on your chest and close my eyes, breathing in your scent and enjoying the feeling of being close to you once again. You begin driving, leaving the top level of the parking garage and heading down toward the exit. Your fingers are making a design on my hip, one that I can't quite make out, but that feels wonderful.
You slow down on the turns and I slide just a bit closer with each one. And your arm tightens around me, keeping me from sliding back when the truck pulls out of the curve. I can't remember the last time I felt this close to you, and I never want it to end.
The truck comes to a stop, and you reach across me to get something from the dashboard. Oh, yes. The exit. I think I might just have to pretend to be an ostrich and keep my eyes closed, hoping that my not seeing the attendant means the attendant can't see me. Of course I know better, but at least this way I won't have to acknowledge that he or she knows more about me than most people I've dated.
The attendant gives you your change and says (with great amusement in her voice), "You have a good evening sir. And you too ma'am."
I just want to crawl into a hole and pull the hole in after me, but you poke me and I manage to squeek out a "Thank you" before we pull away.
"You'd better get some sleep," you say as we get onto the freeway. "It is going to be a long drive." I want to object, to say that I don't need sleep, that I want to keep you company, but I know what you're really saying is that the drive will be long enough that in a few hours it will be my turn behind the wheel, and I had better be alert, because you'll need your rest by then.
"Yes, sir," I reply as I nestle my cheek against your chest and once again close my eyes. "Wake me up when it is my turn to drive."
You slow down on the turns and I slide just a bit closer with each one. And your arm tightens around me, keeping me from sliding back when the truck pulls out of the curve. I can't remember the last time I felt this close to you, and I never want it to end.
The truck comes to a stop, and you reach across me to get something from the dashboard. Oh, yes. The exit. I think I might just have to pretend to be an ostrich and keep my eyes closed, hoping that my not seeing the attendant means the attendant can't see me. Of course I know better, but at least this way I won't have to acknowledge that he or she knows more about me than most people I've dated.
The attendant gives you your change and says (with great amusement in her voice), "You have a good evening sir. And you too ma'am."
I just want to crawl into a hole and pull the hole in after me, but you poke me and I manage to squeek out a "Thank you" before we pull away.
"You'd better get some sleep," you say as we get onto the freeway. "It is going to be a long drive." I want to object, to say that I don't need sleep, that I want to keep you company, but I know what you're really saying is that the drive will be long enough that in a few hours it will be my turn behind the wheel, and I had better be alert, because you'll need your rest by then.
"Yes, sir," I reply as I nestle my cheek against your chest and once again close my eyes. "Wake me up when it is my turn to drive."
