Next time I see you…

The next time I see you, I think I'm going to have to touch you.

Your shoulder, perhaps. Maybe our hands will brush past each other.

Something. Something. Something.

I need to touch you. I need to touch you. Need to touch you.

A hug? Good god could I possibly hope to dream of a hug? Holding you in my arms, if even only for an instant?

Oh, it would pale in comparison to all the ways I want to touch you, but I would take it. God. I would so take it.

I would take it, and bend it over the table, right there in the restaurant, lift whatever dress you're wearing and touch you touch you touch you

Run my hands down the back of those endless legs while my lips explored your cheeks, then back up again the front, tracing out and away just below……… before pushing that dress up and up, up over your head as my tongue traces your spine, hands pressing, squeezing, exploring, touching touching touching

Fuck it. You're ready by now. As I bring my hand between your legs and suck on the side of your neck, you'll knock a glass on the floor.

Damn, woman, that drink was expensive, but I don't even care. I've got the best goddamned meal on the planet waiting for me, juicy and moist, I've prepared it well, and dessert a mere inch away…

And I will touch you, touch you, touch you with my lips, my tongue.

Touch you touch you touch you until you're nothing but a quivering mess on that table.

And, maybe, god, maybe if I'm the luckiest man on the planet…

Maybe I might get a hug.

God. I'd kill for a hug, just one hug from you…

Or a hand on your shoulder. Could I put my hand on your shoulder, for only an instant, while telling you a joke perhaps?

And touch you? Just… touch you?

Can I just… touch you?