Do you find me shy yet? What does that even mean? I’ve drunk too much, that’s what that means. I shouldn’t have shotgunned those first two glasses of chardonnay. But I had to do something to curb the impulse to march across the room and claim your lips with mine. But you like shy women. They make you feel strong and in charge.
I long to teach you the liberation of being dominated. I know you’d like it. But I’m trying so hard to be what you want. So tonight, when I got ready, I slid on peach lipstick instead of cherry red, swirled my hair up into bun and fastened it with a spanking new, freshly sharpened #2 pencil. I hid my hot-assed body behind a bulky sweater, and my frank stare behind a pair of prescription-less, black-framed glasses.
I plan to allow you to make slow, sweet love to me, to teach me all of the parts of my body that I already know are erogenous. But you won’t even look at me.
Smokey Robinson is singing, “You’ve Really Got A Hold On Me” and I start to move. Who wouldn’t? I set down my third glass of chardonnay on our mutual friend’s coffee table and close my eyes, my hips taking control. I feel a hand at my waist and I open my eyes, hoping it’s you. It’s not, but he’s okay-looking and he’s actually touching me, so I close my eyes again and sink into his embrace.
Matt Nathanson takes over for Smokey and I change partners – still not you.
When Bill Withers starts singing Lean On Me, I break away from my
The kitchen is blissfully quiet. The sign of a good party is that everyone ends up in the kitchen but this party is just okay so far, so I have a moment to myself with the ugly parts of the
I pull the bulky sweater up over my head. My glasses get caught in the fabric and then the pencil holding my hair in place is knocked loose. In a series of panicked movements, my man-catching costume is on the floor. I take in deep breaths of the cool, air and then kick the crumpled up sweater. I won’t put it back on, I vow. I’ll try for you some other night. I give up.
I grab a nearly empty bottle of chardonnay from the counter and take a swig. I hear the door to the kitchen swing open, and when I lower the bottle, I see you.
I’m leaning against the kitchen sink, in a black lace tank top that I’d hoped you see at some point tonight. My hair is tumbling freely down my shoulders and my back. Natural waves make playful grabs at my waist.
I’ve been talking to you in my head all night, and now I don’t know what to say.
Opening Line Prompt: https://www.plot-generator.org.uk/opening-line/