Photo courtesy of SneakPeek.ca
“Sex is part of nature. I go along with nature.” — Marilyn Monroe
**A fictitious fantasy**
The first time I saw Lauren Cohan, I knew something was different.
I kissed a girl in college. Almost slept with my manager at the salad bar I worked at when I was 17, but she and I never quite sorted it out. I had a boyfriend who wanted to do a three way and I say yes but then he just slept with the other girl while I was at the gym. Other than that, it just never really happened.
I was flying solo at a party in Hollywood, taking Instagram photos of all the hot bartenders, and sampling every single free signature cocktail I could get my hands on. Needless to say I was a tad bit tipsy and having a little trouble free standing in my ultra high heels. I grabbed a bottle of water and headed toward a high stool in the corner where I could prop myself up and people watch while I debated on whether or not I should summon my Uber.
I didn’t realize someone was watching me.
Through the crowd our eyes locked and my stomach tried to climb out my throat.
She was absolutely gorgeous, and looking at me like we had met before. Not just met, but ripped each other apart in a bathroom stall at a punk show kinda MET.
Suddenly it took everything in me to not lick my lips. My legs were all quivery and I think I drooled just a tiny bit. We floated in this world where we were alone, time had frozen, and I wanted her to make the long walk to my dark corner so I could taste those gorgeous lips.
Forget the massive crowded room. Forget what everyone would think. Forget it all, I’m in.
The crowd parted like a sea of applauding supporters, encouraging us as we moved slowly toward what would inevitably be one of the best nights of our lives.
Seconds later she was in front of me, smelling of expensive perfume and lavender body oil.
Holy jeez she’s beautiful. I gulped like Gomer Pyle, swallowing the pool of saliva building up in my mouth. I felt like I was a nervous freshman in high school and the star quarterback was about to give my my first French kiss.
Her hand wrapped around mine and we walked toward the door with every eye in the room following us, wondering if they were hallucinating or fantasizing.
The car door slammed and everything changed.
I didn’t need that Uber after all…
…well, not until the following morning.
Photo courtesy of FanPop
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