"Flying Shoes" and other matters of the heart

Oh, no. I had a good date with the Bartender. Fireworks. Chemistry. Chemistry on every level. I'm not used to this. I don't know what to do with good conversation and good kissing. He walked me to my bike. But didn't kiss me. We're at that part where we cant get enough, where it may look like something slightly inappropriate, us kissing on the street. Its new and good and we cant get enough. May offend others. Can't stop touching. I grabbed his hand to get his attention, to show him something, and he commented about this hand to hand combat, before realizing I was showing him something. Before realizing I got self conscious. And paranoid. And scared. And worried that he was not interested at all in my hand. Only: my hips. My breasts. My lips my neck. I felt myself erect that wall right then, right on that street. Undressing me is one thing, him taking my hand as we walk down the street is worlds away from my understanding.