Animal attraction

Snug-fitting shirt with rolled-up sleeves and the first button undone, which makes me think thoughts that should not be thought in public. A smouldering cigarette held lightly between two fingers, the curl of smoke mixed in with the scent of an intoxicating cologne that makes me want to lean closer so I can nuzzle skin and inhale. All topped off with the sensational heady vibe of alpha male. Christ, there's only so much a girl can take before she melts onto the floor.

And later in the night, after much, much laughter and idiocy staged to music that harks back to the halcyon days of pinafores and drama queens, there’s a teasing invitation and before I know it, I'm up close and personal and there’s an absolutely delicious thigh pressed between mine as we do the bump and grind and my brain short circuits because all my nerve impulses are yelling is "HOT!" and so I forget to trail my hand down his chest, damnit, but I don't make that mistake the second time around although damnit again, I'm terrified because I can't read the signals so I look everywhere but at him and nearly have an aneurysm trying not to think about grabbing him and snogging him stupid there and then.

And then I'm home and I admit freely that I do an absolutely ridiculous happy dance in my room. Not because I've got an unfeasible crush, not because the adrenalin rush from mad hormone overload has given me enough nervous energy to power Nebraska but because for the first time in a very long time, I'm giddy and happy and silly and it feels so damned good to laugh again.

PS: Rawr.