Cubicle 4

He is waiting in the parking lot, in the fading light of the dying sun. The soft light bouncing off his black silk hair. He leans against the hood of a late model Mercedes. Dressed in a soft gray linen shirt and black slacks, standing like time has no meaning. The light of the world bending in towards him. A gravity well from which escape is impossible.

Embracing his pull, I stalk towards Michael. Hips swaying, one foot in front of the other, I sinously move towards him. I stop two feet away, not quite in reach.

“I’ll be honest. I came here to see you. I have no real desire to hang out with anyone else tonight,” I state, having finally found my courage.

That’s good,” he replied, “I didn’t invite anyone else.”

I felt something deep in me tighten. A lust like I have seldom known washed away all reason. I stepped in to him.
Arms encircling his body, one hand pressing into his back and the other drifting down to cup the velvet muscle of his ass. Looking into his eyes, I kissed him. His lips soft and agile under my own. His tongue flits into my opened mouth, caressing my tongue. Making promises I dared not hope for.

Reluctantly, I pull back. Still breathing with Michaels breathe, I whisper “Your place?”

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