I could smell gasoline and feel a lot of post-rainstorm humidity. I was pretty sure that warm feeling in my shoe was my toe bleeding. Yuengling Black and Tan was gently, expertly easing down my throat as I brought myself close to Vince’s unimposing but undeniable presence. His breath was hot on my neck, his aged band T-shirt slightly rough beneath my fingertips. My fingers traced down his arm, feeling the shape of the muscle, and I was suddenly tempted to drag my teeth a bit behind his ear, just to feel him squirm a little.
Instead, I leaned against his chest and said very quietly, “When I take off this bra,” instructing, demanding. “Please don’t take an hour being touchy-feely. I look good but I don’t have all day.”
Vince pulled away and blinked, clearly fighting a smile. “I can’t promise anything.”
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written and edited in either 2009 or '10