Butterflies

“Sense entered into a short, violent skirmish with instinct and inclination, and was overwhelmed.” – The Cuckoo’s Calling

I had never noticed him before – I mean, not in that way at least…though we’ve probably spoken hundreds of times; he speaks fast and is always moving, so our conversations were never particularly lengthy – a few words here and there, maybe a seemingly nervous laugh on his end as he’d walk away. I’d like to think that most people find me endearing, but if I had thought anything of him at the time (which I didn’t) – I’d have assumed he was, if anything, intimidated by me. Somewhere along the way though, something shifted. Our exchanges a little longer. A little more personal. Our jokes a little darker. A natural cadence to our banter. A lingering felt in my body when he’d leave.

He doesn’t talk as fast anymore. And his laugh seems more sure. He’s calmer, pulls his chair in close to mine while we talk. A boyish charm glints in his brown eyes.

Sometimes he makes me blush, and sometimes I make myself blush thinking about him.

I didn’t mean to end up here. It just happened. I came home one day with not just a lingering, but a longing; he knows I’m married, and I am, happily married…but I cannot stop thinking about what it would be like to have his hands on my body.