Delivering water bottles wasn't exactly what I wanted to do with my life, but under the circumstances, extreme pressure Katy was inviting into my mind is what I have to do. Driving past the tiny house on the corner of Main and Early, study nothing but the blowing curtains in the window from the register directly underneath.
Whispers of passionate words were echoing my brain each and every time I drove by the little green house. Warning signs rang out as goose bumps spent more time in my body, less time on the geese. But realizing she was on my route.
It was 3:00 p.m. when I halted the blue and white truck directly in front of the tiny green house with shutters that echoes my mind and the four walls which seems to be breathing on their own. Grasping the two plastic jugs from the rear of the vessel, carrying them tightly in my hands, as my legs felt jumpy and heart skipping beat after beat.
I knocked on the glass door lightly at first, then knocking a bit louder the third time as I listen to those familiar sounds her bare feet would make upon my arrival. Fearing her, or was it myself that I am fearful of, that is tapping into my membranes.
Suddenly the vision, view from the opposite side of the all glass door was clear to me. She was wearing something so distinctively pure, so ripe in color as the smell of exotic perfume escapes when you open the door with a look of sexual pleasure.
"Hello again," you said, searching for the right words as your eyes swells to the magnificent status of my loins.
"Your balance of $50.00 dollars is due, missy." Bewildered of the way your eyes were shaped and soiled.
Suddenly my eyes grew dim, hands feeling like slimy fish, mouth as dry as the desert sand. Searching deeper in my thoughts of an exit sign that wasn't there. Desiring you all the more as I make my way within the four walls upon the gestures of your humble eyes, straight lips and the tender voice that says, "Why don't you come inside."
Sweet innocent body that I feast onto sways towards the adjoining room of the den, swallowing my pride with each glance onto your hourglass frame and see-thru chiffon gown that seems as smooth and silky as silk on a corn stalk.
Moments later you reenter the main room, wearing guilt on my face when you apologized for the tardiness. Reaching out to kindly except the money that was over due when your nails clutched the thumping veins in my thin wrist. Slowly you great me with your warm kind lips, working your wet taste buds between my trembling lips as your free hands glides carelessly down my tight jeans.
