Kissing

Kissing

The text had come unexpectedly, out of the blue.

It was common: just some housekeeping. He was going to “run” a 5K in Chattanooga on Saturday and she wanted to join him. It would be nice to see her. He had been busy and not thinking about her much this week – business was good and that meant busy. Lots of writing. Lots of client phone calls.

But now, at 1am, as he lie in bed, her simple, mundane text had brought his attention back to her. He found himself longing to kiss her again, to feel his body pressed up against her.

It was how they began. Their first date was too cheesy to put into a book. They met the first time for dinner after 10 weeks of talking and texting, teasing, intimate talks about everything.

When he saw her for the first time, he was surprisingly smitten. He kissed her immediately.

During dinner he had slid his hand onto her thigh. She quivered. After dinner he walked her to her car. It was raining. He kissed her again. Deeply. Holding the umbrella, he pushed her against the wet car and kissed her again. And again. His suit jacket was soaked. His free hand found her breast through her clothes. She felt him grow against her thigh.

That was months ago.

Now, tonight, lying in his lonely bed, he longed to kiss her again. Everywhere.

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