I am standing up against your car, my form fitting black dress hugging every curve of my hour-glass figure perfectly, the plunging neckline barley covering my breasts, my dark hair falling in soft ringlets around my face. My full red lips parted slightly. My pulse races as I see you walking into the parking garage in that charcoal gray suit. You walk towards me slowly, our eyes lock, I see that amused, hungry look in your gaze that I know must be reflected in my own. You are finally standing in front of me, that cocky grin on your beautiful lips. That grin that screams, “I know exactly what you are here for.” You touch your hand to my cheek for just a moment, letting it slide down my neck, one finger drawing goose bumps all the way to my hip; I am hypnotized by your hand being there, so close to where I am wishing it was. You lean in and run your fingers through my dark curls, stopping at the nape of my neck, your hand still holding onto my hair. Your touch is sending electricity throughout my entire body, making my porcelain skin flush pink all over.