flighty

I fidgeted the whole flight to Pittsburgh. Got stuck with a middle seat and had to pee three times in four hours. In retrospect, it probably wasn't the very best idea to wear the corset on the plane, under a crisp, white collared shirt. It seemed sexy at the time, but all I could think about was the sound of my rib cage creaking, and the breaths I had been saving up for the moment when she could shove me down and rip the damn thing off of me.

Hopefully not rip. Well, maybe. At least that was my thought process.

I stood in the baggage claim wrestling with my heels, wondering what had possessed me to wear them. Of course they were a breeze to take off at security, but besides that, I was already weary of the strain in my ankles. No matter. I would be kicking them off over my head in no time. Thinking that maybe this time we'd leave the apartment at least once, I'd packed a small suitcase, and finally yanked it from the conveyor belt.

Outside baggage claim, there was neither car, nor girlfriend in sight. Walking down to the end of the arriving-flights line seemed like the most logical thing to do, but about ten steps down the sidewalk, a pair of hands caught me around the middle. I could feel her breath on my neck. "You smell like gardenia."

It's been 2 months, 4 days since I left her side last time and I thought it was going to break me. I mean, I guess we get used to being apart. But as soon as we're back in each other's company, it's hard to believe we ever survived. She was already nibbling on the little curves of my ear before I noticed the security guard motioning for us to get a move on.

I clasped her hand as we merged into the freeway. Forty-five minutes is a long drive back to her apartment and I couldn't wait that long to take deep breaths again, "baby do you mind pulling over?"

Next: Escape Artist