The Strawberry Blonde

So we sit in a pub, conversation flowing readily and I'm talking and animating. As we sip our drinks your hands reach out to touch mine. I run my finger tips over your wrists and stroke your thumb between them. I watch your hands and your mouth when you're talking and I think how sweet they'll feel knuckle deep in my flesh or wrapped around my waist. Your eyes crease up when you smile and I tell you I am worried about wrinkles. You laugh at me. When we wait for your train you ask me if Im going to kiss you. I stare at you, then I stare at the ground. You kiss me tenderly. I reciprocate. There is a yearning of arousal. You tell me I'm cute, or that the situation is cute, I'm not sure which or what. You tell me I have a pretty face and I think you'll make it look much prettier when we go to bed together. Sodden or flushed or both. I lean against the wall and you stand in front of me, you push your body against my body and we carry on kissing. I scratch the hair on the back of your neck and nip your bottom lip gently. You clasp the side of my throat with your hand. I twinge and squirm. You say goodbye and we think about each other for a while.