Late for work again

There was a time before the now. When we had the “we’re never going to be able to have good sex with anyone else again, are we?” feeling and everything about our world was tuned into each other. Funny things were always happening. Love making was marked by laughter and incredible heat and insatiable lust and unpredictability and guaranteed results. In between, there are talks and more laughter and tenderness and incredibly freeing honesty.

Then there is me trying to leave his place in the morning and get to work on time.

I`ve already showered, but somehow I`ve landed up lying beside him again. I stand up, stretch. He pulls me back down beside him.

“There’s no way I’m letting this body leave my bed.”

Well, okay. Cue the rolling around and goofing off. I love the way he kisses me in the mornings without being afraid of his morning breath. A real boy. We usually still taste like each other, anyway. I pull myself off him, try to leave again. He sits up, hands behind his head, and watches me get dressed.

“There is nothing sexier than watching you get dressed in the morning.”

Panties on. Bra on. Skirt back over the hips. Shirt over my head.

I look at him. Go over…

Straddling him on the bed again… I can’t help myself.

“I wish I didn’t have to leave,” I say, kissing his face and neck and running my fingers through his hair.

“I know. Sometime we’ll have a whole day where we’ll do nothing but this. I’ll walk you out.”

He stands over me naked as I put on my shoes. I fiddle with the strap around my ankle, and I know he’s watching me. He loves shoes. Sure enough, he says “Mmmm, I like those shoes.”

He walks behind me through the living room.

“God, you are made for wearing skirts and shoes like that.”

We’re in the hallway now. His hand’s on my ass.

“You are so hot…”

No fair. He’s growling it into my ear from behind, exactly the way I love to hear him.

I look back over my shoulder: “Well you’re not so bad yourself.” We kiss goodbye against the door.

And he doesn`t stop. I can see our reflection in the mirror.

A minute feels like an eternity. He knows exactly what he’s doing. Damn him.

I throw down my keys and my bag.

And right then…I know I`m going to be late for work again.

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