Hot Summer Nights
The memory of hot summer nights...
All the fans in the room whirling to music of their own making...windows
open...ice cold lemonade...you in nothing but your cool summer
chemise...fanning yourself with your "Requerdos a Tijuana" tourista fan...me
sweaty and smelling like horses after hosing down and brushing my
mare..."she needed it" you said......You peeling off my shirt...unzipping my
jeans...pulling them down to my boots...me laughing "boots first"...you
shrugging "not necessarily, I got you where I want you."...Me standing
there...trapped with a deer-in-the-headlights look...unable to run as you
glide my silk shorts down my long legs to keep my boots and jeans
company...you look at me with that unbelievably sexy smile of yours and
wiggle your eyebrows...me begging for some lemonade...my throat suddenly
parched...but my lips...my other lips...wet with anticipation...
Ah...yes......the memory of hot summer nights keep me warm...watching the
winter rain...with you...in my arms...once again...
© Skya Wode
04 February 1998
