I don’t know where this cheeky smile came from. A whisper hushes to me that probably I’ve been expecting it, dreaming about it, for ages.
Now! How are ages counted – I have no idea. Maybe, in smiles. That stretch to the rest of your body, which I can only fantasize. It’s tight. It’s shiny in the night. It could be full of inviting secrets. And it could hide stories of amazing, and yet pure simplicity. What, of all this, can you reveal?
A blue jumper, and your hand gently hiding … what? I’d like to intrude somewhere between your smile and your breast, touching neither. I have wine in my mouth. You, vodka. Chemistry says that they should not mix. Ever. It’s dangerous.
Right?
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