"Where are my shoes?" I ask, trying frantically to get out the door in time. "I know they're around here somewhere..."
"What, these?" I hear. I turn around, and there's Marc, my older brother's best friend, my flip-flops in hand.
"Oh, thank heavens! I thought I was going to be late! Give them here."
"You want them do you?" That little smile always drives me nuts. It's weird. Until just now I never noticed that.
"Yes, I do. I'm late for class." There he goes smirking at me again. It gives me the shivers. He's older than I am; 6 years to be exact. He just turned 27, and I've always liked him.
I take a step towards him and reach for my shoes. He pulls them back and grabs my outstretched wrist. Gently he pulls me to him.
He whispers into my ear, "You know you've grown up to be really something. I didn't notice for a long time. You've kind of been like a kid sister to me. But lately, I dunno. The way you walk, your laugh. The way I can smell your shampoo when you walk by. You're funny and smart and amazingly sexy."
He kisses my neck, and goes on, "So if you want these shoes, you're going to have to let me put them on you."
His hands gently tracing their way down my body, starting at my waist, down my right thigh, over my knee, down my calves, every light touch followed by a tantalizing kiss. He ever so gently places the shoe on my foot, and, just as slowly as before, begins working his way back up, following my leg under my skirt for quite sometime.
When he gets to my waist, I'm very weak in the knees. He stands up, and I steady myself on him. I try to kiss him, but he just smiles at me and says, "Patience." He moves to my other side, kissing me lightly on the neck, and then repeats the whole process.
