Drunk Texting

I sat at the bar alone. It’s late and last call is steadily approaching.  Just over my heart beat I could hear the hard gulps of my whiskey highballs banging in my ears. My lips were numb. See, I started with whiskey sours but the pangs of embarrassment weren’t numb enough so I dropped that sour part and started drinking highballs. Johnnie Walker Blue Label. Only the best whiskey for the best love I have ever lost.

I sent you another text about an hour ago – something that I’d promised us both I would never do again. But fuck it.

“Another shot,” I slurred, I think. My eyes were watery and my skin was clammy.

So u realky not gunag hit m e bakc?Another text.

My phone rang and eagerly I answered because I thought it was you but it wasn’t. It was my homegirl. She wants to know why I left the reception. What can I tell her? Should I be honest and tell her I left our best friend’s wedding reception because I’m in my feelings over you?

“I have to be at work early,” at least I think that’s what I said. Then I hung up on her to call you.

The phone rang twice then went to voice mail. Call me. That’s the shortened version. I might have veered off into a soft spot about needing you, loving you, missing you – et cetera, cetera, and whatever.

“Last call, my friend. Who can I call for you?” That’s the first thing the bartender has said to me since What are you having tonight? But it’s cool.

I couldn’t face my friends after this but I had to eventually so I pulled our old friend’s business card out and slid it to the barkeep along with my credit card. It would have been less expensive to buy the Brooklyn Bridge. But again, only the best whiskey for the best love I have ever had and ever lost.

With a heavy heart and light pockets, I headed to the bench outside to wait for him to pick up the pieces of my life. I leaned my head back to keep the blood from rushing to my face. I closed my eyes and I could feel your skin on my finger tips.

We kissed and our fingers link as I pull you in tighter. My fingers slowly caress your neck as I nibble on your chin before I bite your bottom lip. For the life of me I don’t know how you found out where I was but I’m grateful.

We sat in silence while you drove us home. I stole glances at the beautiful contours of your face in the night lights. My fingers lightly stroked the back of your hand while we sat at a red light. We stared at one another until we were interrupted by a horn.

We pulled up to your apartment door and I could feel the goosebumps raise on my neck and arms. I love you. I miss you. Thank you. Between the slow kisses were apologies and affirmations.

Off goes the tie and cufflinks. Slow and steady we undress each other. The skirt falls the floor with a low thud adding to the sound track of our oohs and aahs. And so follows the bra and the collared shirt, the undershirt and the socks; all taking their respective places in a trail of moonlight.

Panties, stockings, and boxer briefs remain, covering our least intimate parts. I kissed from your collar bone to your shoulder blade as your hands wrap around my waist. You back me into the bed as we foreplay like old lovers. We’re in no rush to end this moment of truth.

You placed soft kisses on the tip of my nose and deep kisses onto my lips. Your lips are so full and soft. I licked and nibbled on them while I traced your arms over your head. We rolled. You kissed my chin and left passion bruises on my neck.

Your tongue swirled down my stomach and to my pelvis. My hands played in your hair and guided your head further down. There are sloppy kisses are followed by loud slurps. Moaning and humming with minimal use of your hands – you know that drives me crazy but I can’t let you have all the fun. In my drunken stupor, I was still alert.

I pulled you up to kiss you. I can taste me on your tongue but I wanted to taste you more. So I tasted, enjoyed, and lingered between your thighs. I love you. I miss you. My tongue said the things my slurred words were unable to.

Slow strokes followed from every position. I was on top of you controlling our rhythm. I had your hands pinned over your head, once again. There’s nothing that turned me on more than every angle, freckle, and tattoo on your body. I could spend hours counting and memorizing them.

….to be continued…

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