I came into the parts store twice last week and bought stuff I didn’t need just to see you. I just can’t help myself; your curves and your cute little southern accent keep bringing me back time after time. Every time I come in you flirt with me, but I don’t think you realize how much I want you. I come in today and spend another $30 that will go straight into the trash can when I get home. As you hand me my receipt I ask if you want to join me for lunch. You start blushing a little bit but our eyes lock and you whisper a soft “I’d love to”.
We walk down the road to that popular Italian restaurant everyone has been talking about. Even though it’s February it’s pretty warm in Georgia, and the heat between us is making it apparent that the electricity that I’ve been feeling is mutual. We sit down and start making small talk. I feel your foot brush against my leg as we are ordering. I glance under the table and see that your right hand has wandered down between your legs and you are lightly rubbing yourself through your pants. For such a composed woman, I can’t believe you are already horny. Who I am to argue though? After the waitress walks away I stand up, take your hand, and walk right out of the restaurant. I no longer want pasta for lunch, I want you.