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I want you inside me’ was explicit enough. Explicit? What a useless word. The trouble is, I can tell you about what we read or where we went, but I don’t know how to describe Jane as a physical person: the bitten fingernails that told of distress behind her poise, the way that a hug of greeting would somehow convey the small urgent softness of breast, the curve of her back, the hard lump of the suspender clip, the strangely silky smoothness of thigh. I can not put this into words, any more than I can describe the lift in my heart when we met, the pride I had in being with her. The incredible truth that she wanted to be with me. The strut this put into my step. Walk on up the road from the university to the traffic lights and you’re opposite another coffee shop, the Silver Slipper, in the old streetcar station at the entrance to the Botanic Gardens. We would not linger there, though, even for the background of Beatles music. It was too close to the building across on the other side of. Steve just leans against the wall, rifling thru his mail. what luck! He hasn't seen you yet. the little alcove where the newspapers are placed is just out of eyesight and with the lightbulb still burned out, you realize it's dark enough back there to hide an elephant. as Steve fumbles thru his mail, your hands fall back to your sides and you suddenly get a wickedly fun idea. a smirk the Devil himself would be proud of flashes across your face. You step out of the alcove, into the morning light from the secuirty door downstairs. "Morning, Steve" you say with you usual chipper voice. "hey" steve responds, as usual not looking up."nothing good in the paper this morning, want it?" you ask. "Sure." he says reaching. you move slightly and his hand grazes you breast. electricity races across your chest to your nipple. your body betrays you and escapes a muted sigh. his attention turns from his stack of mail and he slowly looks toward you, wide-eyed and slack jawed. "enjoy the.
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