[Lady i will touch you with my mind.]

He sits, staring at his computer screen until his vision blurs because she is behind him and he's too distracted to get any real work done. Deciding to give in, he gets up and crosses over to her desk. When he leans over it with his fingers dangling off the edge, she looks up at him and smiles; all he wants to do is touch her and the tips of his fingers tingle.

"What are you doing for lunch?"

"I don't know, why? Are you asking me out?"

"Maybe." His eyes zero in on her hands as she plays with the cap on her highlighter, snapping it back and forth. Open and closed.

"Well, maybe I'll say yes. To lunch."

"What are you implying?"

"Oh, you know...” her smile is suddenly shy, and she starts shuffling the paperwork in front of her. He knows that if he meets her eyes, she'll start to blush and bite her lip.

He laughs, and when she blinks, he knows he has her.

"I promise, just lunch. Scout's honor."

"You were a boy scout?"

"No, but I've sat next to one for years."

"So close enough?"

"Of course."

[Touch you and touch and touch
until you give
me suddenly a smile, shyly obscene]

He's concentrating on the road as she talks about what to have for lunch. Her fingertip touches his cheek and it takes him a moment to realize she's speaking.

"Did you shave today?" Her finger traces along his jaw and he repeats in his mind, boy scout.

"Uhhh, no. I slept in. Is it that bad? I didn't think it was too noticeable."

"I like it."

"Oh." He licks his lips and her hand drops away, back into her lap.

"Your lips are chapped."

"I know. I lick them a lot when it gets cold."

"I've got some lip balm for that, if you want."

"Since when do you have lip balm?" He glances over at her as she looks in her bag.

"Since...a long time. Just keep your eyes on the road."

He does, but nearly crashes the car anyway when her finger is suddenly tracing his lips, cool and slick. Stopping at a light, he meets her eyes as she runs her finger along her own bottom lip, smiling at him.

They both know they're not going to lunch anymore.

[(lady i will
touch you with my mind.)Touch
you, that is all,]

They're in his living room, door slamming shut behind them when she finally kisses him, her mouth sliding against his and he can taste French vanilla and something else, something so indescribably her that his knees buckle and he stumbles, stumbles into her. She catches him by grabbing his shirt and pulling him closer. They won't make it up the stairs.

They undress, every opened button a held breath and a tensed muscle. He goes blind for a moment when she stands before him, the light coming from the window drawing patterns on her skin.

She's under him on the floor, made entirely of soft skin and smooth curves. He takes control, or maybe she does; maybe they've become the same person as they move closer, closer.

His head is filled with thoughts like yes and now and there and love and you..., but words fail him and it all comes out as a groan deep against the skin of her neck. His chin scrapes her there as he moves, and he looks up to apologize; her fingers are already curling through his hair, pulling him closer, running a finger from his ear to his jaw and putting it in his mouth so he bites down on the next groan that escapes from him.

She holds him inside of her and her eyes say you are mine; she tightens her grip and they continue, and i am yours. The silence of the moment pulls him deeper, deeper; all he can hear is her every breath like a promise, the hiss of his stubble against her skin, the borders between their bodies closing in, sweat mingling like raindrops.

Everything is smooth and rough and breathing and warmth and her hands on his chest, back, face pulling him over the edge and suddenly he's inside out (and if she looked she would see his heart and how it beats for her. Her. Her.)

"Jim..." she says his name and it sounds low, as if it's coming from somewhere else because her voice hasn't quite caught up with the rest of them yet. And he knows, he knows how she feels because he's certain he'll never talk again so he spreads out his fingers and touches her instead.

[lightly and you utterly will become
with infinite ease

the poem which i do not write.]

"Jim?"

Startled, he looks up from his computer screen.

"Hey Pam. What's up?"

"This came for you."

"Thanks." He stares at her for a moment and watches her smile tighten.

"Ok. Back to work..." As she turns, he thinks her neck looks red, almost raw, and he reaches up to rub his cheek. Looking again, he realizes that it's only his imagination as his hand drops. Now he's awake.

Maybe he'll ask her to lunch.