i really should have known by the time you drove me home
He kissed her mid-sentence. And suddenly there was no longer a listener nor a speaker left in this conversation. Oh, but they were still conversing - words were just no longer necessary. Because as Ingrid Bergman says, "A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous." It's true. She doesn't even remember a word he said. But she'll remember that kiss - the way their lips fit together like the missing pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. The way his fingertips danced on her thigh. The soft stretch and pressure she felt when he pulled down on her shirt. The noise he made when she bit his lip. The taste of that cigarette.
"I could pin you down right here and now," he told her.
"No you couldn't," she said, not as a dare but as a statement in logistics. Her being in the passenger seat and him being in the driver's was not conducive to pinning down of any kind.
Or so she thought. Before she knew it, her tiny wrists were above her head, wrapped and woven through his fingertips just as his tongue was wrapped and woven through her lips.
Oh, Mr. Barrow. What the fuck are we, and why.
Five years and say hello to five more. I'm not through with you yet.
"I could pin you down right here and now," he told her.
"No you couldn't," she said, not as a dare but as a statement in logistics. Her being in the passenger seat and him being in the driver's was not conducive to pinning down of any kind.
Or so she thought. Before she knew it, her tiny wrists were above her head, wrapped and woven through his fingertips just as his tongue was wrapped and woven through her lips.
Oh, Mr. Barrow. What the fuck are we, and why.
Five years and say hello to five more. I'm not through with you yet.