A pair of heels in the center of Malcolm X Blvd. One on each of the yellow lines. Sodium lights casting a washed out look on everything.
Except for her. She shines like a million suns.
She was stunning in a black dress. I did my best not to stare. I failed. Repeatedly.
Heels in the road. Laughter.
Stumbled upon White Reaper and Cold Fronts playing Club Dada. She danced and I could only smile at the joy in it. The pure abandonment. Necessary relief. Shots and dancing. Closer and closer. The band was amazing, she is perfection. I tried to pay attention to both but only had eyes for her.
She takes our picture. This is documented and real.
More dancing. Contact. I am floating. Every time she brushes against me I shiver in delight. I was both frozen and flushed by longing. I wanted so badly to grab her and pull her in. The warm feeling of booze and THC filling me up, being with her turning it into bliss.
Step outside for fresh air. She smells heavenly as she leans into me. I fall into her eyes. She is teasing me with the idea of a kiss. Leaning in but just out of reach. I am restrained. I do not take the bait. But I am starving for her. Ravenous. Each time she teases I feel the moan form in my throat. Hate the weakness but force myself to stay strong. Then she kisses my cheek. Again. Again. I need to feel her lips upon mine. Need it.
And then it happens. It is glorious. I can feel every second of it in my mind. The tingles, tasting her, how soft and wonderfully kissable her lips are. It lasts forever and for mere moments. I clutch her close and bury my face in her throat. Kissing, nibbling, drunk from her, intoxicated on her taste and gentle moan in my ear.
If I had a choice it would have never stopped.
It hasn’t in my head.
Swaying together to the house music as the techs reset the stage. Arms around her. This is what dreams are made of.
We leave and I point out the spot of that first kiss. We recreate it. It is divine.
The heels are no longer in the road. Gone without a sign of ever having been there at all. Except for a photo.
More kissing outside the car.
If there is ever a replay of the evening, it was then that the frame will freeze. Someone with a mouse will circle my face and say this is the second it happened. This is when it went from infatuation to passion for me. When I realized I would take a storm of bullets for this beautiful woman. When the falling in became fell.
When I realized I needed to take her home before the kissing became more and more. We were buzzed to smashed roughly. Gentlemen know when to take the lady home. Even if it is not the home they want to take them to. Even if they want nothing more but to keep kissing and touching and holding.
Because we do what is right.
Played and held hands the whole drive. Talked and kissed for a bit at the end. Wanted more but longing is a wondrous torture worth savoring.
A dreamlike evening with a beautiful, brilliant woman.
A pair of heels in the center of the road. An angel in my arms. A much needed night. Intoxicating.
I love you dear reader. As I float between heady thoughts of her and sleep deprivation, know that. And to her, thank you for the best night in a long time.