Remember that time at the café? You had this quirky smirk on your face. I never told you, but I always liked that smile: that smile that tells me you want me, you like me, that I make your skin tickle. The tickling travels softly through your skin, like my fingers when I barely touch you. My delicate caresses start on your hands, come up to your shoulders and go down to your breasts; delicate and confident strokes. My eyes touch your nipples, your abdomen.
When you smile at me that way, I know what you are after. You want me to touch you, to kiss you, to bite you, but I only play with you. I sit still and watch you go on. I listen to you talking about life, work, and love. I watch you calm. I feel powerful and it turns me on. I feel like I can own you without even moving or talking and that turns me on; it awakens my senses.
We drank coffee, we smoked cigarettes, we laughed. I didn´t touch you at all and you wanted me to, so badly, but I remained still, stoical. I played this little burning game with you. And I remained still, stoical.
It was time for us to go and you didn´t get what you were looking for. Your impatience amused me, made my guts burn in desire and I didn´t have to do anything. I didn´t give you anything.
We left the café; me, victorious from my little sexual game; you, disappointed of my lack of interest. Why she didn´t come close? You asked yourself, remember?
We walked together down the street. My hand lightly touched yours and the moment you felt my warmth you lit up, like a sparkle. The fire blazed inside you for two whole, glorious seconds. But I didn´t touch you, I moved my hand away and kept going. Your fire was out with anger and confusion. My little sexual game worked; you were confused and angry, I was satisfied. We both walked in the middle of the crowd, a slow, dense, gray, boring crowd.
Your anger was escalating and consuming you. Why doesn´t she touch me? You were asking yourself, remember?
I was walking down the street, confident, because I had you under control, you were mine, your animal instincts, you body and soul, all of you were mine and I could taste it, I could taste every part of you.
Your eyes filled up with confused tears. I didn´t give you what I had promised. I didn´t give you anything.
It was almost time to say goodbye.
In the middle of the crowd, without previous notice, sign or signal, I took your hand and strongly pulled you towards me. I felt your body against mine. I saw your disoriented eyes and then I kissed you. I kissed those anxious, desperate lips, I bit them hard while I caressed the back of your neck. My hungry hands feasted on your body, there, in the middle of the gray, boring crowd that would open their mouths and eyes with surprise seeing us dancing in passion. Those looks seasoned my banquet: reproving looks, morbid looks, kinky looks: some of them genuinely curious and longing looks. All of them intensified the pleasant taste of the lavish meal I found in you.
I examined all of you as far as my extremities could reach and as far as you let me: and you let me go everywhere. Giving you pleasure gave me pleasure. A kiss was enough… for now.
Synchronized, we culminated and got lost in time for a few seconds, not caring about anything. The spectators enjoyed the free, unexpected show. Then calm. The beats of our bodies slowed down, we were conscious of our surroundings again. I kissed you on the cheek, lit up a smoke and tried to reach your hand so I could feel you while we walked. You, on the other hand, delicate and happy walked away. You walked away. You looked at me still, satisfied and kept going. I watched you walk away with confidence. I reached for you, your hand touched mine and I wanted more. You looked at me in a naughty way and gave me nothing. Your little sexual game was just starting, remember? I do.