You are here again, your hand finding its way so swiftly to the small of my back, raising goosebumps through the fabric of my dress, the dress I am so happy to be wearing now as it highlights my curves so well. Your lips are so frequently close to my ear and your words pour like honey into my mind and make me languid, softer and pliable under your touch. Will you come home with me this time? I don’t dare ask, fearing being too forward. I listen and smile softly, licking my lips subconsciously as you talk of how delicious you found the Scottish strawberries to be. “I would never have expected it to be this way.” I wonder what your expectations if my body are, closing my eyes and seeing us alone.
It takes all my self restraint not to ask you to pour kisses onto my skin. When we are in a group, separated by others and in different conversations, we are drawn back together as though by some sort of magnetic force. The cliched nature of this makes me want to chuckle. I can feel the waves of longing radiating from the very core of me like a heatwave. My cheeks burn, I’m sure everyone around can sense how much I want to feel your lips on mine.
As the party progresses, people begin to drift away but still you are here, your fingers tracing light patterns on my hips, on the small of my back and even on the nape of my neck. My face must be flushed, my usually pale complection becoming pink and rosy. I get significant glances from a rather judgemental acquaintance and that confirms it for me, my longing is obvious. I hear the clock in the corner strike two, and I am long past the point of knowing what to do except be close to you.
“Two am? Time has run away from us again.” You whisper this in my ear and I shiver as your sweet breath caresses my skin. “If we are not very careful, it shall make fools of us both.” Another shiver passes over me: I could fall in love with your idiosyncratic speech patterns alone. I dare to reach out and stroke your cheek, whispering, almost inaudibly “We wouldn’t want that now, would we?”
Our eyes lock and you kiss my fingertips and my skin tingles with the electricity of the contact. The energy, the heat that has been build within me for hours rises to the surface of my skin, into my fingertips. You must be able to feel it in your lips. For a moment your mouth gapes as you gently take my hand off your cheek. “Ma belle femme, I will see you soon, yes?” All I can do is nod as you walk away, my disappointed heart plummeting into my stomach.