I chose the topic this week. I was writing a sweet little romance, and wanted practice at describing the ins and outs of a kiss. As you can see below, I failed dismally in my attempt at sweetness. I really do like the sexy side of romance!
Michael sat on the other side of the table. Jessica sighed. Such a handsome man. She forced her eyes down onto her lap, rather than roll them, fifteen-year old girl style. Heavens, who said ‘handsome’ these days?
But her eyes rose without permission and rested on Michael’s…um…kick-ass…awesome…bodacious? face.
She didn’t know any men. Working as head librarian at St. Ursulas equalled an all female staff and teenage girls. No men. But Michael—black haired, blue-eyed, broad shouldered, stubbled and determined jawed—had dropped every week, for a month now, into her lap at her Saturday writer’s group.
She cleared her throat. “So, Michael…“
He glanced up at her, his eyes smiling in encouragement. Her heart thumped in her chest.
How old are you, Jessica? He’s a gentleman. Of course he smiled at you. He smiles at everyone. But a romantic, feminine side of her brain, a part she thought had long since died amongst the minutiae of her professional life, wanted Michael to smile at her. She’d heard the girls in the library whispering about her. “She’s old, you know, but she’s, like, so prettyful.” Ashamed, she knew she wanted Michael to think the same.
She cleared her throat. “It’s your turn…um…as you know, to suggest a topic for our group to….er…” Her voice dwindled to a gauche stop, as Michael stood and advanced toward her, his sensual lips turned up at the corners.
Betty’s mouth fell open. Deirdre’s pale blue eyes, behind their glasses, threatened to goggle out of their sockets. Margo, the only other writer in their group about her age, jiggled little Oliver on her lap and looked on with interest at the scene unfolding.
She’d felt her eyes widening with each deliberate pace of Michael’s.
Finally he stood directly beside her. “Yes, I know, Jessica, it’s my turn to suggest a topic for us all to write about.” He took her hand and drew her up out of her chair. She swallowed, and, like a ventriloquist’s dummy, stared up, up into his mischievous, smiling eyes. “Betty said last meeting she was having trouble describing human interaction, so my topic for this month is—a kiss.“
He placed his hand in her hair. His other hand cupped her cheek. With his strong arms holding her in a grip of iron, he bent his head and kissed her.
She heard someone gasp. Goodness, it was her.
His soft lips touched hers. A gentle, sweet meeting. His tongue tip moved against the closed seam of her mouth.
And that was all it took. Her mouth opened at his urging. Their tongues danced, toyed with each other. Harder, faster.
She placed her hand against his head and pulled. His hard chest and belly, covered in a tight, black T-shirt, met her modestly clad breasts. Their lips mashed, smashed together. She angled her head, begging for closer, closer. His hand dropped to her bottom and pulled her tightly against his groin.
There was a general gasp from the ladies.
His hand dropped to his side. Bending his head, he nuzzled her ear and whispered, “I’m sorry, Jessica. I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day I met you. You’re very pretty. And sweet. I don’t meet many sweet ladies.” His face had darkened underneath his tan. “Come out to dinner with me. Please?”
Her heart slowed and she was able to breathe again. Be confident and witty, Jessica. You address conferences, for goodness’ sake. “Um…dinner will be very nice, thank you.”