7 Things I Want To Do With You
1) Stand behind you, wrapping your hair around my hand and lifting it gently. I kiss the back of your neck. Softly. Lightly. Up. Up. Until I exhale into your ear. And in that breath you feel the longing, explained more fully than words can achieve. I kiss down the side of your neck. Down. I kiss along your shoulder, following the cascade of freckles, located perfectly, as if by design. My lips push your spaghetti strap down, as my stubble plays nicely with your delicate skin.
2) Take your hand and lead you into an already running shower. I hold you close as the hot water pours over us, lightly pinkening your pale skin. I lather you up. Slowly. Meticulously. I kiss you with intention, hands sliding down your back, careening around curves that are very much slippery when wet. I lift you up and press you against the wall. Skin on skin on cold tile, your teeth squeezing my shoulder, as sudsy water swirls around curling toes.
3) Walk with you, hand in hand in the dark. The real dark. Country dark. Walk with you hand in hand along the water, stopping to snap memory pics, as the moon winks at us on a rippling harbor. I lead us to a spot I know. I pull you in for a kiss. A light kiss. Working with a moment, not creating it. I run my big hand up your smooth thigh. Your fingers slide down my stomach. Potential becoming kinetic as clothes hit the ground just before we do. The lapping waves set a slow rhythm as we add to the sounds of nature.
4) Book a weekend getaway. I take you to a hotel with very few miles on it. The giant bed with poofy covers and mess of pillows invites. Not yet. I walk you over to the window, overlooking the busy street, where we look out over to the darkness where the ocean is. I unbutton your shirt. You lift mine up and off. We kiss like we’re making up for lost time. We undress each other with the most reckless of abandon. Your nails on my back, yours pressed against the window. My teeth pulling on your lower lip. They can probably see us. Maybe. Definitely.
5) Sit on the bed while you get dressed for a night out. Hair up. Matching underwear for special occasions only. It should pay your curves for getting to hug them. You hold up various earrings, checking them in the mirror, as you keep one eye on watching me watching you. You pick up a bottle of lotion, turn sideways, and put it on a shapely dancer leg. You rub it in until your skin shines and my mouth is dry. Then again. You stand up with attitude. Your walk flirts with strut, as you make your way to the closet next to me. You bend over to pick up your shoes, as slowly and torturously as you can. My hands whiteknuckle your hips as I whisper, “We’re going to be a little late to the party.”
6) Take a coastline drive just before dusk, as the Indian summer sky displays more reds and oranges than you’ve ever seen. Your hand squeezing my thigh makes me switch gears. Sliding up. Fourth. Higher. Fifth. Higher. I hit the brakes and steer us onto a dirt road. Engine off. We’re revving. I pull your underwear down. You pull my hair. Hard. Your eyes are a five-alarm blaze, as you kiss me with beautifully unchained aggression. You straddle me, reclining my seat, as the sun slowly, and skillfully, goes down.
7) Spoon. Naked.