Meaningless Phrase

She stands waiting at the top of the stairs, heels, short dress, hair up, expectations up as well.

Where was she, an hour ago, two hours? Pressed against a wall, his hands up her short dress, her hair loose and wrapped around his neck, the two of them knotted together against the wallpaper.

She laughed when he whispered into her ear, a meaningless phrase to anyone but themselves, and then his hands did something magical to her and she exhaled sharply against his neck.

She murmured something to him, and raised her short skirt even higher. Her legs were his favorite part of her, and she ached to please him and to be pleasedĀ  in return.

And now, at the top of the stairs, she touches her hair absently and thinks about his scent, his taste, the feel of his muscled arms beneath her fingers.

He has promised to take her for a ride in his car, out to the lake, like teenagers would, teenagers they haven’t been in many years.

She doesn’t know his last name.

He doesn’t know her first or last.

She knows he likes her legs.

That’s enough for the story they are writing together.

Outside, the shadows grow longer.

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2 Comments

  1. reminds me of something i’ve done, and almost regret.

    Reply
    • Kameko

       /  April 5, 2012

      I try not to regret anything. It’s such a drain of your energy, wading through puddles of it.

      Reply

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