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The enormity of my actions was beginning to sink in, and I was starting to panic. Hot babe. And me, little mousey quiet shy me! How did this happen? She had noticed what CD I was looking at, and that meant she'd been looking at me too.
Or maybe not, she's a cop, they're trained to be observant, right? My head was gonna start spinning around like in some sort of horror flick if I didn't calm down. I have a surefire method for grounding and mellowing myself.
I looked at my alarm clock. A little over an hour before I needed to leave to meet my pals for dinner. Given my already, ya know, "aroused" state that should be plenty of time. I shut my bedroom door, just in case my roommate came back from the Cape early, and climbed onto my bed.
I always start out on my back and end up on my stomach. I know that you're supposed to try not to get into set routines with this, but some things just work better a certain way.
I shoved some extra pillows off to the side of the bed and stretched, closing my eyes and having no trouble bringing the image of my babe in blue to mind. I let my breath out, relaxed, and focused on my body.
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Flexed my toes in my socks, became aware of my clothes brushing against my skin, my fine brown hair tickling my neck and cheek. I laid a hand on my tummy, only barely touching, pushing my favorite tanktop-with the picture of jetgirl on the front- up out of the way, and let the tips of my fingers slip under the waistband of my blue lowrise cords. I hardly moved my hand, gently stroking just above my skin, touching only the invisibly fine downy hairs.
I pictured her above me, imagined it was her hand so cautiously exploring my body. What kind of lover is she, I wondered.