It’s like premeditated murder, but it’s not the one I’m plotting. Though I have a plan and I’m executing in cold blood — if the expression stands, as my blood is boiling, helped by summer at full swing, my dirty thoughts and eager excitement.
You're wooing quietly but surely; before they know they fall for you — I was told ages ago. And what used to come naturally is refined and calculated today.
A flawless plan executed in the best possible way.
Meeting her by the train, handing her a bottle of water instead of a bouquet, the conversation starts easily. Walking straight to a terrace bar nearby, overlooking the old town, the ambiance is helping her, as are the Aperols, she’s opening up and I just have to listen.
Changing venues, off to bowling. Sipping more Aperols and losing gracefully. She laughs at me and with me — and slowly melts. And she’s so good she can’t believe it. Empowered, my business self would add.
And it’s still just a lazy afternoon.
An early dinner nearby, authentic Neapolitan. By now, she accepts she’s being led, I somehow command this calm control and she’s at ease. She knows she can be vulnerable and she is.
We’re sharing meals and having more Aperols.
My place. I’m fixing her yet another one, then handing it over and starting to kiss her slowly.
There are many unvoiced questions lingering through her suddenly heavy breathing.
And she leans in.
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