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Stifling by SITTING

Date: 8/11/2015, Categories: Fiction, Author: LushStories, Rating: 71.4, Source: sexstories.com

distance. He looked like he did in every dream I had. I hadn’t forgotten a thing. His t-shirt hung off his broad shoulders, and he was wearing dark jeans. And I was there, I was so close to him and yet I was frozen. I stood there in a loose shirt and skinny jeans, wishing I’d put on something more classy. But work had run into overtime and when I got home, I only had time to shower and throw on the first things I found. I had my high-heels though. Four inches. I was still half a foot shorter than him. My palms were sweating. I sipped from a margarita-filled paper cup. Nothing. Watching. Waiting. For what? An ’in’? He hadn’t even seen me. He might have forgotten all about me. Someone finally fixed up the music and a European dance track pounded out. The music sounded like heat, like summer. Best time of the year. The doors to the garden were open and people moved in and out, some dancing, some laughing. I knew them all, some pretty well and some were just familiar faces. Friends, I guess. Friends and friends of friends. I tried to psych myself up to talk to him. In my head, I felt like a complete, desperate idiot. My life had always been a series of missed chances, of being second best and dreaming of better things. I drained the margarita, put the cup down, swept my hair to one side and walked over to him. “Hi Robbie.” As soon as I said the words, I wanted to take them back but it was too late. He turned, catching me. “Ivy!” His smile was warm. Recognition. Relief? He leaned ... against the wall, and his eyes flickered over me. “It’s been too long,” he said. “I thought we were gonna stay in touch.” “You should have called me.” He shook his head. “I never had your number.” “You didn’t?” “Nuh-uh. I wanted to ask Ethan for it, but you know what’s he’s like. He would’ve made me feel like a stalker.” “Oh.” He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Not ‘I’ll give it to you’? Jeez, you make me feel desperate.” I shook my head. “Sorry.” “Don’t be. It’s just,” and he leaned close, “I really have missed you. I miss talking to you.” My throat felt tight. I couldn’t speak. I just smiled. Robbie shrugged. His eyes went to a guy smoking a cigarette, then to a spilled drink on the floor and then back to me. “You’re not gonna say anything?” Maybe there was hurt in his voice. Something under the hoarse softness of his tone. I cleared my throat. “I only here came tonight because I heard you were coming.” There. It was out in the open, in slow motion between us, ready to be caught or hit out of the park. Robbie swallowed. I watched his Adam’s apple in his throat. “You wanted to see me?” I laughed then, because it was the only thing I could do. I felt so wound tight with anxiety and tension that I couldn’t take any more pressure. The truth would be a relief, wouldn’t it? It was out before I could think twice. “Yes. I’ve wanted to see you every day since the day you left.” He stared at me like he thought I was laughing at him. Then his hand caught my wrist and pulled me closer. I had ...