After a couple hours of shop talk and absolutely no flirting, WOODY said he could go for one more, so I invited him to my place.
Perched on my counter top, sharing a beer and eating figs, we discussed our blogs and all the volunteer work we don't do. Around 4am, we retired to my room, where I nervously asked if I ought to stay on the couch. He shook his head and calmly stripped down to his bright purple long underwear and Metallica t-shirt.
I turned out the light, undressed down to my slip, and crawled under the covers. We lay facing eachother, our feet touching, and he kissed me. I overreacted with a big "WHOA!" He mumbled something about wanting to kiss me right away when I smiled at him upon entering the bar... Ahem. Why must it take two adults 5 hours to make a move?
But oh, the kissing! Truth be told, kissing to me is what one does to get to the good stuff. I don't revel in it. But this was incredible. I wanted to eat him. It took a while to get those long johns off, but once they hit the floor, mayhem ensued. Our mouths smashed together and only came apart to announce that someone had been bad.
As the sun came up, we wrapped around one another and made plans to get together the following evening.
