“Look, But Don’t Touch”


The door handle rattles in the lock and they stumble through the door. Entwined together, they giggle, trip, and collapse to the floor in a heap of winter coats, mittens and half drunken kissing. Diana, the wife has been laughing hysterically for the last two blocks over what, her husband Keith has attributed to nothing at all. The cheap merlot the bartender had poured had obviously dissolved whatever posed as a filter for her sense of humor and now all of the laughter that the week’s hard work had bottled inside her was pouring out of her like the dry, red wine.

Keith on the other hand, was always the quiet one. He laughed on the inside, but all he expressed outwardly was an ear to ear smile, the four gin and tonics loosening his muscles, but as usual not his mind. He loved it when she was happy, and since she’d taken on the extra classes during the week, there hadn’t been much time for her. He slipped a hand behind her flowing hair, which began the night bound up, but in the evening of drinking and dancing and falling to the living room had become partly disheveled. He pulled her in tight for a long, soft kiss.

Diana parted her lips to emit a soft sigh ad immediately brought her lover’s top lip between hers and sucked gently, releasing and sliding into a wet, warm kiss, her tongue sliding across his, the romantic flame being stoked after a four month drought of all nighters, double shifts at the diner and drama with her friends. They hadn’t had a chance to be truly romantic in the better part of a semester’s worth of time, and the two of them were both ready to tear into each other the first chance they got.

Keith, being the usual aggressive partner, shifted his weight and started to roll on top of his lover, but she continued the roll and ended up straddling him, her warmth pressed to his hardness, only two layers of denim and a bit of cotton fabric separating their love for each other. She continued her rant of giggling, almost tipping to one side and thus relinquishing her dominance, but she eventually righted herself and leaned forward, resting her hands on the carpet behind his head.

Always having been a breast man, the sight of his lover’s bust mere inches from his face was too much temptation and he brought his hands up to the zipper of her winter jacket, starting to slide it down, anxious to reveal the next layer underneath. She stopped him mid-stride, halting his boyish Christmas-like unwrapping with a playful swat to the wrist. He retracted and looked up at her, dumbfounded. Wanting to protest, but not sure what to say, he smiled and placed his hands on her firm, feminine hips. Again, she swatted her lover’s wrists. With a playful smile which at the corners curled like the randy little devil she was, she stated “Look… but don’t touch.”

She looked him dead in the eyes, smiling as if to say “trust me, I know what I’m doing.” and slowly began to undo the zipper herself, dragging the painted metal release slowly down the front of her jacket, progressively slower the farther down she pulled, making sure it made plenty of noise, the sound of the coat’s unfastening heightening his anticipation. Keith reached up to grasp the fronts of her jacket to try and help her shrug out of it, and once again she slapped his hands away, a little more fervently this time, as if to bring the point home. Once free of the white nylon overcoat, she brought her arms behind her and allowed the garment to pile in a crumpled heap at his feet.

She next brought her hands to her front, down to the bottom of her maroon sweater. Keith, growing harder by the moment, began to squirm beneath her, convinced that she was about to alleviate herself from the weight of a knit sweater, but was disappointed when she instead began unfastening her belt, the black leather and small silver rivets coming free of the denim loops with a slip and whoosh. She grasped the ends of the belt and leaned forward, closing the garment into a loop and securing her husband’s wrists, tightening the belt until she was sure his hands were playfully shackled together.

She leaned in and started to steal a kiss, pulling away just as his lips grazed hers, Keith lunging forward, trying to take what was rightfully his. She giggled to herself and undid the front of his jacket, spreading out the thick coat, the sleeves and front portions ruffled out to his sides, unable to lift it above his head with his hands tied.