You knock on my door, heart racing. What if I don’t look like my pictures? What if I’m rude? What if we don’t get along? As soon as I open the door, I fling my arms around you – my log-lost lover – and kiss you so deeply all thoughts evacuate your head for what could be seconds? Hours? Days?
“I’ve missed you so much,” I say. Even though you know it’s our first time meeting, somehow you know it’s true. You know that I’ve been waiting for you my whole life. Waiting for this very moment.
“Let me grab us something to drink while you get comfortable. I promise I won’t be gone long,” with a wink and a toss of my long, soft blonde hair I saunter to the kitchen. My heels tap melodically on the hardwood. I know you’re staring at my ass as I walk away, if fact, I hope you are. I can’t wait to show you even more of me.
You notice that my house, like me, has character. It’s filled with antiques and plants and luscious fabrics. It tells a story, many stories in fact.
I return with two glasses of wine. I run my hand up your arm and around your neck, “I’m so glad you came over,”
Magnetized by some outside force, we’re drawn together in a deep kiss as I swing my leg over to straddle your lap. The wine, untouched, unnecessary.