Icing On The Cake

He laughs and it’s the most seductive thing. I feel this out-of-character-but-urgent desire to put my arms about his neck, and French-kiss him until we melt into a puddle on the floor.

A little perplexed by the force of my emotions, I look away from him. The truth is if I could have wild anonymous monkey sex with this man right this minute, I’d go for it.

I look up guiltily. “Did I just say something?”

He shakes his head. “But I’d give a dollar to hear what you’re thinking.”

Our gazes meet and I watch his pupils expand with the force of the desire in my expression. He’s going to say something, do something, I just know it.

Instead he picks up my glass and waggles it at the bartender. “I’m going to buy you one more, and then we’re going to say good night.”

I glance toward the door. Has the girlfriend arrived, after all? I don’t see anyone in particular, but then things have taken on a warm fuzzy glow. When I turn back he’s staring at me, and it hits me. I want this guy. “Why break up a nice evening?” I hope I don’t sound as giddy as I feel.

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