“Are you gonna be my girl?”

I am leaning against the car as she comes out of the convenience store, pretending to watch the gas pump into my car, but really watching for her, thinking about her, thinking about what I would do if she were mine to do things to.
She’d start toward the passenger side and I’d call her over.  When she came close I’d reach out and grab her by the hips, pull her against me, between my legs.  I’d slide my hands up the sides of her waist and around to her back; pulling her close.  One hand would slide up to the nape of her neck, left bare by her ponytail.  The other would stay, there on her back, holding her close so that I could feel her breasts press against mine, their softness, their fullness.  I’d pull her closer still and put my mouth, right there, against the side of her throat.  I’d taste the salt on her skin from the long day we’ve had, I’d smell the sweet girl scent of her, I’d feel the silky smoothness of her skin against my lips.  I’d press my body all along hers and feel the shudder race through her as I bit her ever so gently, my tongue barely touching her skin.  I’d feel the quick breath she would take, feel her press her hips closer to mine, and I’d think, “Oh yes, this is what it’s like to have a girl again…”
She reaches the car and opens the passenger door, but just before she climbs inside she gives me a quizzical look, having seen me watching at her, no doubt.  I smile and shake my head.
And the words to an old song come to me: “Are you gonna be my girl?”

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