I caught her gaze across the table,
her eyes lingering in mine.
Her lips lighter than the cabernet sauvignon.
I wished I were the glass she sips from
and that she would sip from it often
while her hands envelop the glass,
holding it firmly, tight,
bringing it close to her breasts,
as her eyes remain
fully-locked on mine.
The entrée is served
as I glanced down her thighs,
both of us anxious
to be satisfied.
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