And he slid into the chair opposite mine. Although I was talking primarily to the people on either side of me, I could feel him staring, eyes narrowed through a curtain of hair, chin on his folded hands. And I knew what he was thinking.

And I knew he knew, because when I looked over, he smiled wickedly, licked his upper lip quickly, and bit his lower.

So many unspoken promises.

But then, so many politics. So fucking complicated.

I don't know this social group well enough to know what is taboo.

I should steer clear. I want to steer clear.

But oh, he has lit a fire in me that has lain dormant for nearly a year.

I made eye contact briefly -- met that hard intent -- and blushed, and had to look away.

Why did I blush?

I cannot say.

(I went home and immediately asked Mark out to dinner tonight. He does not spark that fire in me, but he is less dangerous. I am more composed around him, more in control.)

And when he was leaving, he hugged Rosa on one side of me, then me.

His shoulders were broad, and he had to stoop a little so I could put my arms around his neck. He grabbed my ass with both hands, despite the people behind me, and squeezed hard enough that I could still feel it when I sat down.

"Hmmm," he murmured, then gave one last squeeze. "Call me?"

I paused. Politics flashed through my head.

His smell in my nose, his hair against my cheek, his hot breath on my neck. How could I say no?

"Alright," I murmured.

I think I was lying.

.

Rosie.

Before&After