we said all the things
Mr. C and I met up downtown again.
This time we went to the library. We read a few snippets to one another, but mostly strolled along the aisles and galleries and rotundas and went up and down the escalators and looked at the pretty pictures in over-sized art books and atlases and travel books.
When we were browsing a too-small to easily share book, he very smoothly wrapped his arm around me to hold the book open for us both.
And that was only the start.
My heart skipped a beat when his fingers caressed my shoulder in tender circles. In the amphitheater of the plaza atop Angel's Flight, he sat between my legs with my left over and between his legs and my right cradling his back, and one of his hands warmed the small of my back while the other played with the hollow of my knee.
I stood back to him and I shivered with desire when his hands slid in mine and he brushed his stubbly cheek along my neck.
Between the pretzeling and cuddling, we spoke frankly about our concerns and romantic interest. I told him that it's a possibility that by the time he's ready to have kids, I may not be able to have any. He said he's worried he'll be inadequate. They're not little issues.
He mentioned wanting to 'step up his game' by getting better threads. It's not a bad intention. I replied that I too feel inspired to better myself. I am embarrassed by my gut and arm flab and back rolls and chubby fingers. He says I'm sexy, but I know how low my fupa falls.
I didn't kiss him.
Didn't seem right to cross that line.
Though he did say he was a bad kisser. "Not a good advertisement," I replied.
I told him I was a great one. I almost feel bad about saying that.
This time we went to the library. We read a few snippets to one another, but mostly strolled along the aisles and galleries and rotundas and went up and down the escalators and looked at the pretty pictures in over-sized art books and atlases and travel books.
When we were browsing a too-small to easily share book, he very smoothly wrapped his arm around me to hold the book open for us both.
And that was only the start.
My heart skipped a beat when his fingers caressed my shoulder in tender circles. In the amphitheater of the plaza atop Angel's Flight, he sat between my legs with my left over and between his legs and my right cradling his back, and one of his hands warmed the small of my back while the other played with the hollow of my knee.
I stood back to him and I shivered with desire when his hands slid in mine and he brushed his stubbly cheek along my neck.
Between the pretzeling and cuddling, we spoke frankly about our concerns and romantic interest. I told him that it's a possibility that by the time he's ready to have kids, I may not be able to have any. He said he's worried he'll be inadequate. They're not little issues.
He mentioned wanting to 'step up his game' by getting better threads. It's not a bad intention. I replied that I too feel inspired to better myself. I am embarrassed by my gut and arm flab and back rolls and chubby fingers. He says I'm sexy, but I know how low my fupa falls.
I didn't kiss him.
Didn't seem right to cross that line.
Though he did say he was a bad kisser. "Not a good advertisement," I replied.
I told him I was a great one. I almost feel bad about saying that.