Thursday, warm but bearable
Dearest V
I return, like a ghost to her old house, to our romantic story.
After dinner, and wine, and watching the fireflies in my garden, you said, "Let's go inside." Odd that I, who am so sensitive to double entendres, did not notice this one.
I nodded humbly, and headed for the back door.
Still following, I found myself in my kitchen. You turned, took the glass out of my hand, and hauled me up into your arms. This time, a month or more after our first kiss, I kissed back. Gave as good as I got. Hard.
This time my arms were around your neck. God, it felt good to be there. I hung on for dear life, or death, and gave back every thing you had given me in the months of phone calls and intimacy that had passed between us.
But sense returned somehow, as I whispered, "Can't we talk about this?"
I needed the verbal assurances. The physical ones were plain.
"If we do this it will ruin your life."