Yes, Love

There's a thrum on the pads of my fingers as I grip the steering wheel beneath whitened knuckles. The sun is shining down through the glass of the large windshield. Its rays heat the small space, but its warmth is nothing compared to the fingers trailing on the revealed skin of my leg, below the cut-off shorts. Light, dancing feminine fingers on smooth, long feminine legs– it's perfect, really. Those fingers run along my skin, following some map they know, and chasing shivers as though they had belonged there all along. Certainly they were missing from me and I'm glad to have them now.

The radio is pouring out 90's pop and rock. I try to pretend my attention is on the lyrics as I belt out each note, right along with you. I think I'm being pretty sly, evasive even, keeping my feelings about your wonderful fingers hidden beneath song. I push my leg into your fingertips, just enough to usher you to keep going, but not enough that I may seem eager, or too wanting... I hope. There's a delicate balance here, a sharp focus I must keep to play out this tango. Because I know how it ends. Simply that, it ends. It always ends– but I'll have this moment.

I will remember this warm car ride, your hand there on my skin, and our voices rising together along with the radio. I glance down, trying to lighten my grip on the steering wheel, and something changes all at once. My eyes meet those long, delicate fingers and I realize... I don't want it to end. Snapping my eyes back to the road, I reach down, still singing, and run my fingertips over the back of your hand. I feel you pause in your tracings, and hope that I have you now.

My hand stretches, slowly across cool skin. It engulfs yours, my hand not so feminine for a woman's, but that doesn't matter. As our fingers entangle and I grip you tight, it's all I need. Your voice stutters and I can suddenly feel those dark alluring eyes of yours on me. It's all fine. There won't be an end today and I smile. You sing again and my smile remains.