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"I want to lie here and pet you," he says to me, "I just want to spend the whole night petting you and stroking you. You can sleep if you want, I never do."
At first I think he's having me on, and then I see he means it – if he'd wanted to cop a feel he'd have said that, too. No, the look of honest bemusement on his giddy, boyish face tells me he means just what he says. Well, if touching my skin is your delight, then here I am, baby. Nuzzle your face to my neck and breathe me in, trace me with your fingertips and memorize each curve, each swell.
How unreal it is, to hear one honest sentiment in a world of emotional flotsam, and what I wouldn't do to give you what you deserve. But not tonight. Not here, not now. Soon.
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