The quickening of your breathing was a metronome, setting the rhythm for what was happening.With sudden realization, we parted and sat down, sheepishly smiling, finding hands and interlocking fingers. I raised the center armrest and slid towards you, locking my left arm under your right. My hand pressed palm down into your seat cushion and slowly, carefully slid under your thigh. I wanted to feel the weight of you on my hand; a sensual and perceptible substitution of your entire weight on top of me in a passionate embrace.Your left hand lay curled in your lap, fidgeting with the fabric of your skirt, but the unconscious representation of hands clawing at the bedsheets was clear. My left hand slid down towards the back of your knee, then out, up and around your thigh, tracing its line to the top of your leg.In my mind, the primal being was trying to take control, and thoughts of pushing your legs apart and hiking your skirt up while I locked my mouth and tongue to yours was vividly. She asked, “You like your girlfriend?”“I love my girlfriend. I’ve asked her to marry me and she’s accepted,” replied Ed. He didn’t want to explain about the extra husband and wife that was part of the marriage package.“I didn’t know that things had developed to that level,” replied Rosa. The idea of Ed in love was so foreign to her mental image of Ed that this was more surprising than anything. She asked, “So why did you invite me to lunch?”The question made Ed laugh. He said, “I just finished my last final of the semester and felt like celebrating. I was on my way there and saw you. I just figured it would be nice sharing my joy with someone that I know.”Share his joy? She thought it was more like sharing her bed. She sighed and decided to accept the inevitable. Shoulders slumping, she said, “Okay. I guess I can understand that.”Realizing that she was dreading this, Ed stopped and turned to Rosa. He said, “Rosa, I know you don’t like me. If you would prefer to go home, I would.
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