Lolita 

I looked at you from across the table. My mind wandered. And then you returned the look, with that smile. That damned smile.

We were man and woman. Woman and man. But we might as well have been firecrackers, waiting for a tiny spark. And we waited, oh yeah, we waited…

I was burning inside. The innuendo was getting better, more intense and harder to resist. I was starting to lose control (that drinking doesn’t do any good, does it?) and I ran my foot over your leg. I caught you biting your lip. That lip. And the one on top of it. Oh, all I wanted to have in this hell of a life!

Let’s forget this business of drinking the misery away! Take me home and  we will figure out a more interesting way to play this out.

Bukowski said “those damn eyes fucked me forever.” And in this case, no expression could sum up my feelings as well.

I couldn’t bear the tension between us, any longer. So I ran inside to pick something else to drink.

And as I was coming back, you picked me up at the door and whispered: “Let’s ditch everyone! Go somewhere else…”.

“A place with more privacy, you mean?”, I followed. And you gave me that smirk. (God help me…) But I was on fire. I wanted you like Lucifer craves the depths of Hell.

“Do you want me?”, you asked.

I ran my tongue across my lips and slithered a longing yes.

“Say it again…”, he begged.

“Yeeess…”, I let slide slowly from my hungry mouth.

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