Kiss

"Let’s kiss with tongues."

"Not tongue in cheek?’

"Or that. . ."

"Or not."

He eagerly watched her undo the top button of her shirt, then the second. He hadn’t noticed until now how heavy her eyes became when she wore blue eye shadow. She fidgeted with the third button, teasing it, making the pearl shine.

"You know," he said, "ears can be pretty damn erogenous."

"Oh?" she asked quickly. She pulled her hair around her ears. Large hoops dangled from her lobes. She shut her eyes as she leaned her face toward his. He stood on his toes and darted his tongue through one of the loops. She sighed into his ear as her hair brushed his cheek. He thought she smelled soapy, fresh, not unlike baby powder.

He suddenly went flat-footed. "Damn it!" he said.

"What’s wrong?" she asked. "You were right about the ears. Please don’t stop."

The baby powder reminded him of his wife and daughter back home. The woman, her face, became his daughter. He felt limp. He sagged into his shoes.

"I’m sorry," he stammered. He saw her face fall. Her smile did itself in and pouted.