A Good Little Girl Like You (A Sample)

They watched him scamper away, and O.E. gave her a

smile. "Thanks, Bec."

They leaned back in their seats and gazed at each other.

Rebecca felt a relaxed lightness, a release of the usual

tension during a date. She didn't have to say anything to

O.E., and he wasn't able to say much back. They sat for a few

minutes in peaceful silence, wrapped in each other's

consideration.

When the soup arrived, they were so deep in their silent

meditation that they started to eat without any further

words. O.E. offered her a taste, merely by motioning to his

bowl. Rebecca tasted his soup and nodded approval,

refusing to break the mood by speaking. Then, O.E.

removed the straw from his bowl and pointed it at hers,

asking to try some. She pushed her bowl closer to him, and

he dipped in for a taste. After he took a sip, his eyes closed

briefly to show her that she had also chosen well.

When they finished dinner, they sat back and gazed at

each other, unwilling to spoil the mood by speaking.

Rebecca leaned forward, her elbows on the table, her head

on her hands. O.E. did the same, and their faces hovered, a

hand's width away from each other. His blond hair fell

forward, and he smiled at her with an almost loving look.

Rebecca reflected his happiness back and added hers to it.

At the same moment, they reached out a hand,

grabbing each other across the table. Their fingers wove

together inches above the napkin dispenser. Warmth from

his hand spread through her entire body in an exquisitely

slow slide. She let out a quiet moan. His eyes flared, but he

said nothing.

I must be horny. Even his touch is exciting me. Rebecca's

lips parted, and she breathed heavily. She was about to say

something, but O.E. raised a silencing finger to his lips. He

held it there for a second, and then moved his finger to her

mouth, stroking her lips lightly and entreating her to avoid

words. Her lips warmed from his touch, and the heat made

her almost dizzy.

Still holding hands across the table, O.E. started to

caress and she responded enthusiastically. They played with

their fingers, their palms, their wrists. They swirled their

hands in an ever-changing pattern of embrace. He stroked

each finger, then two or three at a time, alternating light

skims with firm grasps, lacing and unlacing their fingers.

She played with his hand, sliding their skin against each

other on both the front and backs of their hands. Fingers