Tuesday, August 13, 2013

Wanting it to happen

            He wanted to kiss her more than he’d wanted anything in a long time. The very thought of pressing his lips against her soft small lips made his stomach rumble and gurgle with excitement. He felt like he was on a roller coaster and each time he caught her eyes he felt like the world was dropping away under his feet. He’d kissed other women before. It wasn’t like his first kiss on the fire escape with the adorable blonde ghost at the school’s haunted house; the first kiss to mark all others from then on. This kiss seemed too important to mess up. He wanted it to be right. More right than anything he’d done in his life.

             Every accidental touch from her was like an electrical pulse through his entire body. Yet, he didn’t act. He wasn’t sure if he should. Ever fiber in his nervous body was telling him to act, but he resisted. He was cautious. He didn’t want to ruin anything that could come. He didn’t want to screw up any potential that existed for something more meaningful than a fleeting ill-timed kiss.

             She laughed at his antics and smiled when he listened. He felt the sweat on his forehead and had to wipe it away but try to look relatively cool while doing it. Although he wasn’t sure what was cool anymore. He found himself almost completely unable to look right at her beautiful face because the urge to scoop her up in his arms and kiss her was unbearable.

             His breath was short but he kept it to himself. His brain was shooting fireworks and signal flares off into the sky reading, “Kiss her you fool! Kiss her now!!!” And still he resisted. He just wasn’t sure if it was the right thing to do. Not for him, but for her. He was so worried about upsetting her or putting himself in the wrong with her that he continued on in his stodgy, Victorian, Edwardian butler personality. A butler doesn’t take such risks but soldiers on in the face of even the mildest desires.

             He cursed his values as he walked next to her. He felt a fiery passion inside roaring to be released but his up-bringing, his concern for her feelings overpowered his desire. He continued to babble and fumble and act aloof, as if that was what you were supposed to do, but inside he was engulfed, incinerated, with want.
            He swore that the next time, the next time would be different. He’d make it right. He’d make it special and memorable and meaningful. He hoped by doing so he’d make the right impression and the real life version of all his imaginings would finally come true.  He hoped she might want that too.

             In the meantime, he will continue to boil on the stove of his passionate heart in the hope she’ll stir.

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