Tequila/Monk

Thinking about tomorrow

March 17, 2017

“Wait, wait,” I said, sitting on her bed as she took her clothes off. “We shouldn’t do this.”

“Why not, baby,” she asked. “Don’t you want me?” She playfully slid off her pants, then came to me and sat on my lap. As she put her hands behind her back to release her bra, I grabbed her arms to stop her.

“Ooh, do you like it rough, baby,” she asked.

“What? Yes. No. Wait, that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Well, as you can probably tell, I do want to be with you.”

“Yes,” she said, her eyes looking down at my lap, “I can see that.”

“Well ... yes, I want you. I want to smell your hair,” I said, stroking her hair. “I want to taste your lips and your skin,” I said, rubbing my fingers on her lips, then on the softness of her breasts. “I want to feel what it’s like to be inside of you. And I want to feel the warmth of your body pressed against mine.”

“So ... what’s the problem?”

“The problem is tomorrow.”

“What’s the problem with tomorrow?”

“Well, let’s say we make love most of the night. And it’s wonderful, I’m sure it is. Then maybe we curl up against each other and fall into a deep, satisfied sleep until the morning. That’s where the problem is. I don’t want to make you breakfast. I feel like I should, but I don’t.”

“I’m not following you.”

“Well ... I love so much about you. A large part of me wants nothing more than to be with you tonight, making you squirm, seeing you out of control.” I paused as I struggled to find the right words. “But I don’t see making you breakfast in the morning. And I should. I should want to make coffee or tea and whatever else you like, and bring that to you in bed in the morning. I should want to take care of you like that, but ... I don’t. I don’t feel that. So no matter how much the physical part of me wants to make love to you tonight, I can’t do it. It would be wrong.”

“Listen,” she said, “I think you’re thinking too hard. Why don’t we just have some fun now, and deal with the morning in the morning.” She started slipping her bra strap off of one shoulder.

I put the strap back on her shoulder. “Is that what you want? What you really want? What if you have cooties? What if I have cooties?”

“You have cooties?”

“No, no, I don’t. But see? Now you’re thinking about tomorrow and not just tonight.”

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