paisley print dress

There’s a paisley print dress only she can fill properly. It’s wrapped around her so tightly, so rightly, that I don’t even see it. I see her. I see her eyes, looking back at me and reflecting desire.

There’s music in the background playing just for us. We’ve heard this song so many times. We’ve hummed it, locked eyes to it, once or twice even made love to it. It’s not our song, but it’s a song that’s defined us.

I hum along to the music that seems to envelope us. She appears next to me as I hoped she would. She takes my hand in hers.

My hand on her dress she draws my attention in her direction.

“Hey you,” I say.

“Hey,” she says as her eyes focus on my chest. She places her hands there.

“I didn’t know you would come tonight.” I say, struggling for words.

“You didn’t?”

“I’m lying.”

“That one’s fine. But don’t lie to me.”

“I can’t.”

She brushes hair away from her face. “I know you can’t. That’s part of what I love about you.”

My hands find a way to make her dress drop to floor. Her hands find the way to make my clothes magically appear next to her dress. We inhale and exhale each other’s breaths. Eyes locked into each other with every caress. Longing given a brief moment of rest. Skin on skin, sweat on sweat, the same kind of loving and laughter as if we’d just met.