I turned from the jeep. Marcus was standing on the landing of the marble stairs. He was barefoot in long black pants and a slightly see-through black linen shirt. A hate that it is see-through because it has me ogling the little that I can make out of his cut abdomen. He had his left hand in his pocket, his right held a cigarette. I was glad that he was far enough on top of the stairs that I could not smell the smoke. The way he had his hand in his pocket was so casual and relaxed.
That pinch in my stomach has become recognizable. It is my desire to have Marcus. I simply want to walk up those stairs and kiss him, to touch him, to feel his embrace on me. I will fight that urge I have when I see him. It will stop. It will have to go away, eventually, right?
As I studied him further,
