S is for Shelter

As we walk along the river, we keep an eye on the clouds. The forecast had said no rain, but the clouds were telling another story.

brown and white arch playground
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The riverfront was emptying out quickly. Everyone else seemed to think that it was going to storm as well. “Should we go inside that coffee shop and wait it out?” I ask.

You look up at the sky and shrug. “We’re only about 5 minutes away from the museum. I think we can make it before it storms.”

We pick up the pace a bit. “I have to slow down,” I say. “Sandals aren’t really made for a slow jog.” At last, we see the snake sculpture in front of the museum.

“See? I told you that we’d make it,” you say. Just as we get to the sculpture, the sky opens up and we are instantly drenched. I pull off my sandals and we run under the sculpture for shelter.

“No one told me that we’d be having a wet t-shirt competition,” you say, pointing at my shirt.

I swat at your hand. “I feel like there’s no competition if I’m the only female here.” I start to wring out my hair and you stop me with a kiss.

“There’s no competition even if all of the women in the world were here. You’d win.”

I raise my eyebrows. “OK. What do you want?”

You look down at my wet chest. “We are so wet. I feel like we should just skip the museum and go home. I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable with everyone staring at you.”

“Isn’t that so kind of you? And what would we do at home? Watch some TV?”

You slide your hands up my ribcage, hovering just under my bra. “I want to give you your prize for first place.”

“What do I win?”

“If you keep wearing that, anything you want.”

Erotic Fiction

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