Two breasts curving inward
- the feminine equivalent of planetary suction.
We're having a conversation so my eyeballs are orbiting past jeans stretched over tight thighs and the reflective glean of her smile, trying not to get pulled into the collision of her flesh and v-neck shirt.
That's not how we do things on this planet; there are rules, procedures that must be followed.
But it's not working, and as my eyes drift down her neck and my stomach tears apart with anticipation I feel as though this complete violation of social boundaries is almost worth it.