When it was time to go, she hesitated.

when it was time to go

When it was time to go, she hesitated. The party was winding down, and the guests had dwindled down to only 4 remaining. All were engaged with the host and hostess, transforming the event from a boisterous ‘shin-dig’ to an intimate affair. It was time to go, but there was lingering desire in the air.

She stood on the exterior of the group and waited for a break in the conversation. After a few moments, it became clear that though they knew she was there, waiting, they didn’t acknowledge her at all. She waited a little longer, hoping that social politeness would kick in and someone would at least let her say goodnight. No one turned. Finally there was a pause and she found her moment.

“Hey Greg, I just wanted to say goodnight…” she trailed off. He turned his shoulders toward her, not breaking his contact from the group.

“Oh, you’re leaving?” he said with patronizing concern. “Well, thanks for coming.” He opened his arms to hug her. She knew it was more patronizing, more of a gesture of making fun of her unreciprocated emotional attachment to him, but she was so desperate for his affection that she took it anyway. A small victory for her endless pining.

She hugged him, very carefully and specifically matching his pressure and duration. She was desperate, but she didn’t want to lay herself too bare and give them reason to ridicule her even more.

Oh, but the elation at this moment of embrace! The feel of his body next to hers, the soft pressure of his arms around her, the smell of clean that cut through everything. His head turned far away, exposing the caramel skin of his shoulder and neck like prey exposed to a vampires kiss. She noted a small freckle on the nape of his neck and had to summon every single once of her strength not to kiss it. How horrible that would be! To have his disdain and disinterest materialized into a moment of clear rejection. It would close the door of possibility completely.

It was a waiting game. Her patience was fueled by the ocean of her desire. He was a boulder a top of thin column of sandstone, as gentle wave after wave, slowly eroded his aloof rejection. Eventually, the moving water always wins. Sometimes the column was made of stronger stuff, sometimes it only took one drink to make it crumble, but she always had the patience to wait. And in the waiting, the gentle lick of her waves against the stone wore away more and more. Until finally, in one glorious moment, the boulder would fall into her. A huge, heavy, thunderous beast, pushing aside all that she was, before becoming completely engulfed by her. Once he fell, he belonged to her always.

So she waited.

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