We eventually take our fooling around down to the futon.  Self conscious as always, I get him to turn off the light.  Of course it’s a apartment with no air conditioning, so the windows are open, and you can hear all the drunk people exiting the bar down the street, again, not too good for the self conscious me.

But man, he’s good.  I mean, he’s just so honestly into you, and you’re just so honestly into him, and it’s all about making the other person feel good, and he’s making me feel great because he’s so gentle and his fingers run through the hair, across my shoulders, and he’s kissing me everywhere and I’m thinking to myself there’s just no way that I can possibly be keeping up my end of the bargain.  I can’t be making him feel this good.  I keep forgetting to be nice to him, I’m just laying back and enjoying how good it feels.

I mean, I’m just so stunned that it's like this, how long has it been?  What, like six months or so?  How embarrassing to admit that.  I’ve forgotten a lot of things.

And I know full well in the morning it’s done.  Because I want it to be more than one night means one night is all it will be.  We’re both gonna walk away, and not try to keep it up and I’m not going to go all psycho on him and start calling or driving by his house or anything.  I know this is what it is and nothing more.  But I wish it was.  This was just what my fragile little miserable ego needed.  One night in heaven with a gorgeous man with dark eyes and lightning in the sky.  To think that it’s only once, and I’ll most likely have to wait for… well… forever before another opportunity comes my way really really sucks.