Sometime Around Midnight

We arrive sometime after midnight as we stumble through the door not because we are under the influence of some substance, actually come to think of it, we are.  We are absolutely under the magical spell of lust and the cocaine-like addiction that comes with a budding romance.  Hands, lips, tongue. I can’t get enough of him as we kiss while we try to climb the few steps that lead away from his entryway to the kitchen trying not to fall. Never coming apart except to maybe take off a scarf. At the party earlier that night I could not stop looking up at him and if anyone knew that whenever a funny moment is exchanged in a group the person you look at that moment the joke is made is the one you most like and are attracted to, they would have seen right through me. They would see that I notice everything about him, not just what everyone else sees.  At the party comments are made on how vertically gifted he is and how funny he is but there is so much more to him. The way he is silent while he listens, and waits for a moment of silence before he gives you extremely introspective advice. The way he closes his eyes when he savors a plate made by the mother of the host and looks up at the ceiling as he discerns all the different flavors. The way he gives accolades even when a sandwich is too salty or a cake too mushy. I know he doesn’t always love it but makes each and every person feel so good about what they have made. The way he sucks on his fingers after picking up a potato and popping it into his mouth I rather no one else notice. That I want just for me because it is so sensual it makes you want to suck his bottom lip in and give it a nibble. He is so amazing and does not even know it.  He makes sure I don’t fall as he helps me step down into the family room as I continue to blindly walk backwards and I finally feel the back of my legs hit the couch.  I am so thankful for the authoritative and loving way he told me to empty the contents of my alcoholic beverages into his cup. He can handle the alcohol and he knows I really can’t. Having my senses not overly dulled by alcohol allows me to savor the feel of his skin, and appreciate the scent of his cologne. Things that may have gone unnoticed if I had imbibed on the cocktails of yucky medicine tasting shots. Somewhere there is a change in my emotions, and I know I have grown to love this man but I don't tell him. I worry that  if I do tell him we will take things to the next level physically, and I am afraid to tell him I am not ready. So I keep my secret and enjoy the excitement I feel as he peels off my coat and the chill I feel at the loss of the garment is quickly soothed by the warmth his body emits.  We sit on the couch now that we have lost our scarfs, coats, and shoes. I slowly slither my hands under his blue sports jacket that has an orange, yellow, and burgundy silk flower pinned to it and slide the jacket down his shoulders leaving him with a button down shirt that I am not sure I have the patience to unbutton. He takes his time as he finishes shrugging out of his coat and folds it in half before he places it on the ottoman in front of the couch. Then he turns back to face me. He responds in kind and tugs my cardigan off leaving me in a thin red sleeveless blouse and I immediately feel goosebumps. I know my skin prickles in excitement and not because I am cold. He gives me his crooked smile that never shows his teeth and lowers his lips onto mine.  I count to ten in order to stop myself from pulling his shirt apart and popping all the buttons off. I know I can easily sow them all back on but in the dark I am sure we would lose a button or two and as I finally make it to five my hands start to unbutton each and every button with slightly clumsy fingers. I don’t make it half way down his shirt before he reaches behind him, grabs the back of his shirt and pulls it over his head. His undershirt swiftly follows leaving his chest and shoulders bare. I love the masculinity of his chest and shoulders. I’d give anything to have the liberty to kiss where he has his narwhal tattoo. I have kissed the palm of his hand where he has a ring tattooed on his ring finger an endless number of times, but I know he doesn’t notice. I don’t kiss the lady bug on his left forearm as much just because it isn’t generally within reach but I have imagined kissing and licking the back of his shoulders countless times as I straddle his backside and rub his shoulders. But alas I must be sated with just sinking my teeth on his chest which I do with much gusto and I hear him stifling a groan of slight pain. Just as I think I am going to self combust if he does not touch me he grabs the bottom of my blouse and pulls it over my head.  I am thankful that it wasn’t slow and sensual which I usually appreciate but I need to feel his skin on mine. In my bra, and with his hand cupping my head he finally uses his body to guide me to a horizontal position on the couch. He leads in bed just as well as he leads on the dance floor and again, he has no idea what this does to me. I would follow him anywhere as long as he leads. I put my arms around his neck to bring his lips onto mine and kiss him with surprising force. I don’t recognize myself. I am possessed with a hunger and need that I think only he conjures because I have never felt chemistry like this with anyone before. I now know he has sensitive n*****s so I gently play with one so that I can awaken the same desire in him and I am so happy to see him respond with the same eagerness as he further deepens the kiss. He dips his tongue in my mouth like he has done many times before but it never stops thrilling me and this time I can’t help but sucking it. He slides his hand up my left side and rolls us both onto our right so that he has more access to my body. He reaches the swell of my breast, pulls my bra down and stops to kiss me only to start kissing my breasts. We make out like that for what simultaneously feels like an eternity and a fleeting moment until we fall asleep. Around 2:30 a.m. I notice we have not stirred and my legs are perfectly entwined with his. I don’t want to wake him nor do I want to leave. The only reason I find the strength to get up and leave the warmth of his body is because the one thing more important than him are the two princesses waiting for me at home.