And then later, he offered me mango, and never has anything tasted so sweet. A fruit given freely by one you want. An offering never to be forgotten.
All these moments I am stealing from him as I can. Him helping me remove my shoes on a giddy walk home. Holding his hands briefly, hearing him sing in the empty piazza. A short ride alone in the lift. I can't breathe around him, I am wound tightly, controlling with such enormous effort my desire to thread my arms around his waist and plant my kisses on his chin and neck and nipples. The sexy words that come to mind in response to the silly things he says. I want so badly to seduce him.
How beautiful he is. But still, not for me, I must wait for one more appropriate, one who will adore me, as I adore him. Not this, me watching him, as he looks away gazing toward an obscured yet different horizon.