I was feeling pretty good after Saturday’s get-together, and looking forward to the show on Wednesday. It was a something of a costume event, so I dressed extra sexy: High heels, fishnets, short skirt–even make-up!
I told myself that I was not doing all of this because I knew Noma was there–I wanted to be open to meeting someone new! I figured we’d see each other, say hi, but mostly do our own things. It was completely a coincidence that flashbacks of her moaning underneath me competed with the road for my attention as I drove through the rain.
As I approached the venue: what do you know–there was Noma! I can spot her ass from three blocks away. No. Really. I spotted her ass from three blocks away. She has a phenomenal ass.
Feeling ridiculously happy to see her, I rolled my window down, music blasting, wondering if she’d look my way. She didn’t.
Noma was sitting by the entrance as I walked in the club.
“Hi.” I said awkwardly.
“Hi,” She replied. “You look good!” Her eyes spoke the truth of her words. “Can I buy you a drink?”
Wait–what? This was starting to feel like a date!
I ordered a rum and coke and we enjoyed the performances. As the night ended, she stepped close to me to show me a text message from her friend who had just gotten engaged. As I stood next to her I almost swooned as the heady aroma of cocoa butter and woman invaded my nostrils.
“Can I walk you to your car?” She asked as we headed out into the night. I was feeling good and high and close to her.
“How about I walk you to your car?”
“Why would you want to do that?” She responded, giving me the look. “Where’s your car.”
“Maybe I don’t remember.” I responded looking right back, my knees going weak once again from the energy between us. “How about I’ll walk you to your car, then you can drive me to mine?”
She parked by my car, but I wasn’t ready to get out. I found myself gazing at her longingly.
“What do you want?” She asked. “Do you want me to kiss you?”
“Yes,” I responded weakly, longing for the press of her lips with every cell of my body.
She did. Our mouths met with every bit as much passion as they ever had–lips pressed on lips, tongues playing on togues–and then she stopped.
“I can’t do this.”
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