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On the Run

“Give me a break. I’m going out with you and aren’t even a girl.”

Our dinners were served, and we ate in silence, each lost in our own thoughts. I began to feel light-headed as I finished my second glass of wine. Good thing Brian was driving. The waiter offered coffee and deserts, which we declined, and we chatted about nothing in particular as we waited for the check. I was beginning to think my first date in almost eight years was going well when I felt Brian’s hand on my leg.

Gently but firmly, I took his hand and slid it all the way up my silky thigh. I was no longer capable of erections, but I felt a warm glow between my legs when his hand came to rest against my panties.

Brian pressed his head against mine. “You’ve got a run in your stocking,” he whispered.

“One of the dilemmas of being a woman.”

“I think it’s sexy.”

I looked down with bliss when he squeezed my knee. On the run.