Quicksand would be the most accurate word to describe Reeves’ effect on me in general, and on my body in particular. If I stand too close, I’m pulled in, forcefully, swallowed, hopelessly. My attraction to him is beyond anything I can really try to resist. The way he watched me earlier, so absorbed, had my heart spasming all over my ribcage. While going through my stretching routine, I closed my eyes, savoring the knowledge of him watching me. It added a delicious thrill to the mundane task. Until the girls arrived, I was actually putting on a private show for him. My every motion, every bend, every flex, was slower, lingered, and accentuated, just for him. Yes, my mind on his own, had renegaded from the initial oath to not come on to Reeves, again. A stinging recollection of how he stopped our crazy lip-lock less than twenty four hours ago comes, bursting my little, hopeful bubble with a mocking evil grin. Sadly as it may seem, I guess he’ll just have to remain the subject of my embarrassingly way too many, vivid dreams.
