You look quite dashing, standing there by the door. You’re practically raping me with your eyes, why don’t you just come over here and introduce yourself? We could talk a little, and dance out on the ballroom floor. And you could caress my neck and I could rest my head on your shoulder while you hummed the notes to the song we were dancing to. You might just get a big smile on your face and look me in the eyes, and offer your hand for me to take. And I would grasp it and you would whisk me away to your limousine and your chauffeur would open the car door for me. We would just kiss and listen to the radio, because of course you love classical jazz music (and it sets the mood perfectly.) By the time we reach your place I’m probably all hot and bothered and you offer your hand again and lead me up to your apartment, happily located on the second floor, so we’d take the elevator and accidentally press the emergency stop button and get stuck between floors. You’d kiss me deeply and I’d get a burning passion in my heart and you’d be quite aware of it. We’d take turns undressing each other and kissing the newly naked places on our bodies. There’s an electric feeling radiating throughout my entire body, and I’d know you felt it too, perhaps because of that look in your eyes that just screams for me, that wants me to do to you what you want to do to me. You’d open your mouth a bit and whisper in my ear “I want to be in—” “Hi, could I ask for a dance?” I’m snapped out of my daydream. “Sure, I’d love that.”

(Andrea)