She might say: “I’ve felt your eyes on my backside for the past half an hour. I

She might say: “I’ve felt your eyes on my backside for the past half an hour. I was starting to wonder whether you’d actually introduce yourself, or if you were just storing the mental image as something to tug over once you got home.” She might say: “What is it about you that doesn’t make that leer seem creepy? How can you stare and yet still ooze class? Why am I here, whispering in your ear, when I should be over there, blushing into my wine? Why am I talking to you, rather than you to me?” She might say: “I’ve been playing out scenarios in my head. You’re in them. I’m in them. Our clothes were left back in reality, where they belong. I blush, I smile, I flush demure from my pores. And yet still you stand here, smirking and staring.” She might say: “I want to hear you speak. I want to hear you speak my name, when you take me.” She might say: “My friends left an hour ago, but I stayed because of you.” She might say: “Damn you and your silence. Damn you and your smile.” She might say: “Take me you bastard.” She might say: “Fuck me.” He might smile.  -- source link

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