Anyone will touch me in the dark. Fewer will hold my hand by the bus stop. That gap tells me more than those late texts.
Tag: desire
It was good. Too good, maybe. Next day he talks about timing and work stress. I know a retreat when I am watching one clearly.
If it is all serious I tense up fast. Filthy and funny is the mix. I come easier when I am not bloody posing about.
Not always, but often enough to notice the pattern. Body against body and the day shuts up. It works until I get fully dressed again.
I can do no-strings. I am genuinely good at it. Then someone makes tea properly and I invent a whole future they never once offered.
Not in bed. In the head. They want the filthy girl until she asks what Saturday looks like. That is when they need space first.
Uber. Bar. A name I will not save. I sat at work hoping nobody asked. Being skint makes romance feel like a secret little purchase.
Do not guess like you are brave. Ask. Then do it like you meant the answer. Confidence is listening with your hands still on me.
Water and a check in are not deluxe. They are basic. If you can take your clothes off you can ask if I got home.
He wants a number so he can decide if I am allowed. Count the men who stayed kind. That figure tells more than a tally.