Supposed Shorts

 

The late afternoon sun cut across the cafe

In sharp points that stretched the shadows

Of chairs on the floor, illuminating, for a moment

The smooth legs of the woman wearing shorts

So short, one could swear she was wearing a long

Shirt and nothing else. Hidden behind a fireplace

He stared and stared, free from the fear of

Discovery. As the sun faded, sliding up her calves

To her knee, he imagined his hands moved on

Her skin. Sliding up, up to where her thighs met

Her supposed shorts. He panted. Wanting so

Badly for her to uncross her legs and show him

What lay between. He rushed to the restroom,

Imagining the feel of her smooth thighs wrapped

Around him as he pressed her against the wall,

Thrusting, thrusting, thrusting to a rapid release.

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