The doorbell rings. She enters just before a light shower falls to the ground.
What did I do? You seem to be avoiding me. I don’t understand.
Blank stares, enough time for her to think it through. To answer her own questions. She pretends to draw blanks. She plays coy.
Looking down over her the approach begins. The do not touch sign is torn away with her blouse. Lips become tangled. We wrangle ourselves in the intended positions.
The pre-fuck home porn premier is cut short. An abort of sorts. The eyes tell all. Don’t come over. Don’t call. Now you know why. The distance must grow. Get a good look. This almost last time will never almost happen again. Auf wiedersehen.
By Michael A. Moss