Not Tonite

"You're not getting me alone tonite." And I meant it as I pulled her in.
"We rode together so I HAVE to go back to your place for my car," her whispers sounded logical.
"In that case, what I'll do is drive by your car, and slow down some, and you can just jump..." I shove her an arm's length away with a laugh, "...because you're not getting me alone tonite. And don't forget to roll when you hit, it'll help the fall." I didn't mean that.
"But you have to let me in, I have a present for you." I pulled her back in, "Damn, you're good." Well played, sister.

Things are spinning, anxiety is high and my nerves are really raw this week. I had taken a double dose of Fukitol. She wasn't getting me alone because she had already set a "rule" for number of dates before we could sleep together. (I understand a girl's point of view on this, but taking it off the table doesn't sit well with me. Something to do with withholding intimacy.) So yeah, didn't like that. Bad kitty. But drinking belgians at the end of a hard day with her there made my day through the ringer feel like weeks ago. That's good beer! And good company.

"You need to be careful with me," I whispered in her ear, "You could have me for a song tonite, and I can't have that. So you need to be very careful." I was playing the part of the wounded warrior because I felt it. Not because it was a ploy or a routine but because it was real. I can't take any more shit today, don't fucking toy with me.

"Are you using 'reverse psychology' on me?" she wondered outloud, squeezing my hand and smiling.
"No. I'm not." And I wasn't. I wasn't playing. I wasn't smiling. She would later say this was the reason she had to have me, the vunerability was a "major turn-on".

As we walked to the car with me still protesting that she wasn't getting me alone (I was! kidding now) , I pulled her into doorways for 5-second make-outs, lost count on how many. Then let her get back to her story about early morning meetings or a car dealership or something that was secondary to the subcontext of the moment.

Back at my place I told her, "Don't get comfy. Where's my present?" Her coat came off and she got comfy. A bottle of rum was given while her shoes came off, "Hope you like it." A hug of thanks exchanged. And we both got comfy. Then everything else came off.