SHE MADE me wait until the eleventh date to sleep with her.
When we first started dating, I wanted to jump her. Before then.
From day one. From the very moment I saw her at the boxing match.
She was bent over. Thick thighs. Even thicker behind. Palms slapping the ring. Fingers curled into the ropes.
All that dark skin on display. All that fire and fight.
My pants saluted. My tongue went dry.
I went home and dreamt about her. At night. In the shower.
She was the fantasy in my head for weeks before I even spoke to her. When we started dating, I didn't have patience. I needed to feel her skin.
See under her clothes. Taste her on my tongue and lick her from my fingertips.
And she said no.
Three months.
Ninety days.
I waited.
Torture.
Chaos.
Nights spent in cold showers. Empty beds. Trying to visualize what it would be like when I finally had more than my imagination.
