Release by Louise J Page B

on me. I don’t even usually blush; I stopped doing that
after I got with my first boyfriend when I was fifteen. Blushing at
twenty-eight, for a guy who’s probably around the same age as me, is silly.
Annoying as well – you can hardly play it cool when you’re blushing.
    On my second turn to walk
back in the direction of the door, I see Dane crossing the street. His hands
are tucked into his jacket pockets. With the zip open, I can see the fitted
black sweater underneath and dark gray jeans with the same fit as the ones he
wore yesterday – narrow but loose enough to allow the waistband to sit low on
his hips and that sexy sag at the crotch. He wears those denims so well.
    I’m curious about his
tattoos, what they look like and how many he has. The piercing in his nose and
the natural edge to his appearance seem fitting for a man who’s indulged in
body art to a high degree. There’s more to him than meets the eye. There is for
everybody, but he’s the only person I want to discover more about at the
moment. Just because he doesn’t go for commitment, it doesn’t necessarily mean
he isn’t a decent person.
    Based on my opinion
of him, he seems like a nice guy, but we’ve only spent three hours together.
Time will tell.
    One thing I’m glad for is
that he comes across upfront. I feel like I’d always know where I stand with
him, regardless of where that is.
    My defenses will remain up,
they need to, but I won’t be quite so defensive with him today. I’ll treat him
the way I would have if I’d never been told a single thing about him. That goes
against what I decided yesterday afternoon, but a change of mind is allowed.
    Dane approaches and we greet
each other. I smile easier at him. He holds the door open, and I enter the
Purple Cafe.
    Sitting at the same table as
yesterday, I shrug out of my jacket and so does Dane.
    I love his physique, the way
he appears so masculine and present, but without being overbearing or
intimidating. He smells lovely and fresh. Unfortunately, that makes me aware
that he’s recently showered. Knowing that puts an image of him in my head; his
tattooed naked body soaking wet as the hot spray cascades down over him,
streaks of soapy water caressing hard ripples of muscle. Oh, it’s such a clear
vision. I bet he’s got a fabulous cock.
    Squeezing my thighs
together, I seek some sort of relief from the mounting wanton tension between
them. Lust is bad, bad, bad. I’ve never found myself fancying a man too much.
    I absolutely do fancy Dane
too much.
    Taking a deep breath, I’m
hit with another dose of Dane; freshness, soap, and spicy-sweet cologne. I can
pick up his combination of scents even with the surrounding aroma of eggs and
bacon. His bed sheets will smell of him, won’t they?
    Brain out of
your knickers, Brooklyn .
    We’re served by Lexi again.
I choose to ignore the fact that this is starting to feel like our table and
seats, our Lexi, and our Purple Cafe. It’s only day two, for heaven’s sake.
We’re hardly heading for years and years of together where one day we’ll
look back on this time fondly, so feelings like that have no place. Granted, I
like routine and familiarity, but what is wrong with me?
    I order a hot chocolate with
no frills; I need something warm and sweet. Dane’s choice is a coffee.
    As the waitress turns and
walks away, Dane leans forward with his forearms resting on the table. “I wanna
ask you something.”
    “Okay.” 
    “What do you think about
when you’re dancing?”
    I frown, taken aback. I’m
not even sure I know how to answer him. “Um … that’s a strange question.”
    His brows rise. “Really?”
    “You’re the first person
who’s asked me that.” I pause in consideration. “I’ve never acknowledged the
thinking aspect, not in order to explain it to someone. I mean, obviously if
I’m following choreography I’m aware of the techniques, their sequence and
timing, so I’m thinking about that, but it’s the feel I