I wonder when you'll feel the heat of my gaze upon you. The way my eyes were stripping you bare as you sat there unaware, ignorant of my blatant perusal. I noticed you immediately, your presence drawing my attention, the way you command the very space you occupy. Confidence is a most attractive feature on a man and one only needs to look but once to know that you possess the trait. So I watched you as you sat there, smiling at those around you, speaking when necessary, every move of your body controlled and precise.
Fascinating, I thought to myself, it was as though I could view everything slowly unfolding in front of me. The turn of your wrist as you pulled your cigarette up to your lips to drag on it, the shape of your mouth, the hard lines, unforgiving yet strangely compelling, enticing my perverse mind. I wonder what would it feel like to run my fingers over your lips? The chords of your neck straining every so often as you turn to survey your surroundings, the pulse that beats steadily, beckoning, daring a person to notice the vitality of the life's blood that pumps within it. I find myself craving the chance to place my lips against that pulse, to feel it pump beneath my tongue as I lick your skin slowly, savouring the taste of you. I cannot seem to tear my eyes away, my gaze resting on the strength of your jaw and the determination I can glimpse in your chin, my fingertips twitching in nervous response to the signal that my brain is sending to them. I have never wanted to touch a person as much as I want to touch you right now. The need to discover every angle, sharp and cut, drawing me in like a sculptor with a piece of clay longing to create something amazing.
I look away for a moment to catch my breath and to steady my senses, being thrown off balance by my reaction to you. What is it, this feeling inside of me and the strange need that is drowning out everything else around me. I look back at you again, raising my eyes to yours, trying desperately to perfect the calm serenity on my face so that my emotions and thoughts are not displayed for public viewing.
Slowly I raise my glass and swallow back on whatever drink I've ordered, my brain ceasing to register the most simple things, but feeling the burn as the liquid slides down my throat. A burn that matches the heat that is touching my cheeks and making them flush. I have never been able to hide my desires, my body is a traitor in that regard. I can feel the warmth travelling to my lips, sure as the sun rises above, that they have deepened in colour to match the crimson tide staining my cheeks. Yet I still cannot help but want to continue along the path I have set out on.
Do you know that you have beautiful eyes? I would like to lean in closely and whisper that against your ear, just to see them open ever so slightly in response to the thought I am placing in your mind. What would they look like as you loose control and surrender to your pleasure? My eyes close on their own accord as my mouth runs dry at the thought of your body tight and excited, moving with single minded determination towards the ultimate prize. As I embrace reality again, I notice that you are watching me and I cannot look away fast enough to cover my tracks, so instead I decide to ride my wave of embarrassment out with some measure of dignity in place. My God, I can feel the muscles of my stomach clenching and the beat of my heart racing like a thoroughbred given free reign. I need some time to compose myself, so I lower my gaze and take a deep steady breath, raising my eyes back to you only when I think I can control my body's response. It takes a lot longer than I anticipate to regain my sense of self. You have shaken me that much. Your eyes are still trained on my face and I feel cornered. How did I move from being the predator to the prey? I notice your head tilt a bit to the side and an eyebrow raise in curiousity I assume to me watching you. You reach for your glass and raise it slightly in acknowledgement and I bite back a smile. It is that movement that draws my attention to your hands. My lips part in surprise as I watch them and think to myself how beautiful they are, so large, with lean flexible fingers that I can just imagine making its way across my body, stroking me slowly as I melt below your touch. The burning is back, settling firmly in the pit of my stomach. Oh to be that glass that your fingers are curled around.