NaPoWriMo 8: First Hot Day

First hot day of the year.

and there I was in a suit

$500 of tailored sophistication
glued with sweat
into each conceivable crevice,
paired with
$80 of gleaming leather pump
stylishly fucking up my feet–
little business-appropriate

and there you were in a sundress

stretched like light
out on the park grass
You were
wrapped in floral print
lifted careless
to the thigh,
playing with a
bit of grass
between pale pink toes

How unbearably
warm it was
when I stood there and looked,
wishing myself
out of my suit
under your dress
and inside that gorgeous nook
too shadowed to see
even though you’d left
your legs resting
just a peek

First hot day of the year.

I went to work
with a dry mouth
and a soaked cunt.



Lately, the rumbling of the bus seats always seemed to get to her.
It wasn’t that the city buses didn’t normally rumble—they used big noisy motors, and the vibrations always carried up a bit through the seats. She was simply a little more sensitive of late. Adjusting her groceries in her lap, Paige bit her lip and looked out the window.

Gina. Vexing, goddamn siren of a woman Gina.

She had answered Paige’s ad for an apartment mate roughly 5 months ago, and it had gone relatively well from the start. They were friendly with each other, but generally good at keeping out of each others’ hair: ideal qualities in a suitemate, by Paige’s estimation. But the past month, good lord…

The bus hit a bump, and her stomach fluttered. She ground her teeth.
Utterly vexing. She must have gotten very comfortable over the past month. Because there was no other explanation for the way she had taken to lounging around the apartment in that tshirt every evening. Kicking her feet up on the coffee table. Grabbing that mug from the highest shelf. That god forsaken tshirt stretching and lifting and exposing teasing bits of the curves that demurely hid above those gloriously bare legs.

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