I glance into your eyes; I can see youre just as lost in me; and just as found as I am in you. Youre my anchor, my light. I press tightly into you, music drifts over our skin, like a familiar lovers caress. Each note, every chord brings us closer together. Every sensation of your touch is a joyous wonder affirming our existence. Beat by gentle beat the music drifts away into the void, leaving just a memory of its familiar embrace.
Your arms are wrapped tightly around my shoulders. My head rests on your chest; your heart beat barely an echo away. The musicians on stage begin to play the next song. We exchange a knowing smile, full of hidden meaning. The intermission is coming soon; the anticipation is building like the crescendo of the current ballad.
We rise from the couch, admiring the wonderfully intimate setting that is the Varsity Theater. Hand in hand we wind our way through the crowd; up the stairs to the ladies room. Lucky for us there is no line yet. Smiling we enter the bathroom and immerse our selves in the pseudo privacy of the far stall. Our lips meet, urgent and hot. I bite your lip. In response you suck on my lower lip and gently scrape your teeth across the sensitive skin. Im moist with need. You press me against the wall, alternately holding me back from taking charge and holding me up it seems my knees have forgotten how.
Your left hand is holding both my hands captive above my head. I could get loose if I wanted to, but you and I both know I love it when you take charge. Your right hand is between my thighs teasing me through the jean material. Some how your hand is now inside of my jeans, touching my sensitive flesh. I have no memory of how that happened. You gently caress the folds of my labia; you find my center moist and hot. Your fingers play me like a delicate instrument. Hitting high notes and low notes with no difficultly. My breathing takes on rhythms of its own, in sympathy yours follows. Soft noises I cant hold back escape to echo against the walls. Finally my crescendo reaches its peak just as a woman opens the door and enters the stall next to ours.
We quietly compose our selves leaving the ladies room as quickly as possible. Hand in hand we descend the stairs and find our seats. A lovely little number is playing on stage. Contentment is a good way to describe my emotions at this point.
On this note Sunday Night an Artist I adore is playing at the Varsity Theater. If anyone is interest in attending with me let me know.