by Ron Hogan

"Warm me up."

Any excuse to slip my arms around her; her body presses against mine and we both share a glance. I want to kiss her at moments like these. I want to feel her lips against mine, the coy warmth of our tongues intertwining while our bodies bob together in the inky blackness of the water. Our friends are around. Perhaps this is a missed opportunity.

"I've been thinking about you all day."

"Oh yeah, I believe that." Her words drip with the verbal equivalent of an eye-roll. She smiles at me, though.

"It's true." I bury my face into her shoulder, ostensibly for warmth, but mostly to feel her skin against me, her pallid flesh glistening with pungent Kentucky lakewater.

We drift. I feel the warmth of her. Her hands in mine; she guides my arms higher around her waist. Her nipples press against my teasing, intruding fingertips. She presses her backside against me; I press back in more ways than one. She gives me a teasing, knowing, and ultimately understanding look.

Our friends leave us, to dress and dry off on the shore. We linger, seizing a few moments to whisper conversation back and forth. Our fingers interlock.

"Give me a kiss."

We peck; she's teasing me.

"Now, how about a real kiss?"

"We'd better go." The others are watching us - waiting.

I don't want to go, I don't think she wants to go either. We walk back to our cars, dress and dry, and steal a few more moments.

"Call me when you get home, okay?" I hold her hand and we look for any excuse to linger. "You know I'll worry about you otherwise."

She laughs at my silly protectiveness, and we kiss again. "I know. I'll talk to you then."



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