A Night in a Year: 19. Desertion

[jacquelineb]

He makes a long ‘oooh’ sound, and she echoes it, her nipple wanting to rub on his palm. The boldness of his approach, him not needing to hide or feign or duck and weave, is a shock after the games of hands and eyes outside. A delicious shock, and her back arches to his touch, his fingers leaving her breast for her ribs, for her side. For him to touch her bare skin… she tries to keep her knees together, to not let him go further until she wants him to. She will keep some of her resolve with him.

How quick could they make it…?

She decides not enough, and reluctantly, she says, “I have someone waiting for me.”

He scoffs, and stares at her, locking eyes to convince her otherwise, but her gaze back must be enough. He let’s go, and she grits her teeth not to release any sign she’s disappointed.

“Go then.”

He’s not pissy about it, though reluctant. She nods, and leaves him there.

She moves across the bar, and finds the table she was at empty but for the drinks. Her shawl has stayed. Her drink is still there, half full, and his is drained.

She frowns, annoyed at leaving an opportunity behind her, to return to empty space. Did he see her? Maybe his friends are here? She looks around, inspecting each table, but he is not here.

She picks up her shawl, drapes it on her shoulders, and heads for the door. Outside, she checks left and right. A smoker? But he is no where to be seen. She runs her tongue under the edge of her teeth, to take off the edge that she’s been feeling, that he built up, that the man in the bathroom added to.

Damn him.

-
Next: 20. Smoke

Image found on flickr, by chilangoco, used under the Creative Commons License.

Mirrored from jacquelinebrocker.esquinx.net.