She likes me. The color of my hair. The smell of my skin. The color of my eyes.
She likes me.
The blonde tips of my eyelashes, she loves.
The curve of my lips… she loves.
My tattoos, she loves.
Sitting, patiently, the anticipation builds up inside of me. She told me she’ll come right back, but that was a few minutes ago. I sigh to myself. I think of her. Sighing and thinking… of her, then she appears and I stand up. “Sit down” she says to me softly, so softly, it’s almost inaudible. She removes me from this world and makes me feel like a woman. How does a woman feel like a woman naturally? There’s no sure answer, but she did it.
She likes me.
She sits down next to me and gently swipe a few curls out of the way, then leans in and kisses me on my cheek. My hearts beats faster. She smells like … like… the scent of heaven and I want to go there with her. Let her know that I am a believer. She puts her hand on my lower back and kisses my neck. Collar bone. Chest. She returns to me and kisses my lips. Ahh. I sigh. Does she know I love her? I wonder. Her skin, smooth, against mine. Kiss me again, I think, and she does! She kisses me like she loves me too!
She likes me
There’s a song in my heart and it’s the title is her name. Every lyric of the song is her name. I love her name. Her hand drops to my lap and she rubs my thigh through my skirt. Touch me! Please?…
To Be Continued…
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