Mr. White Will See You Now...

"I'll be sitting in the back... Look to your right"

I didn't see him when I first walked in to the restaurant we were to meet at for lunch. I'm not going to lie. My initial thought was that I had been Catfish'd. I asked him what he was wearing.

"I'm behind the wall".

Okay. So apparently one of my favorite local restaurants has a "private area". Okay. That's fine. I like privacy.

Lunch was great. It was kind of effortless, actually. He was tall. I liked that. He hugged me when I first arrived. Had an amazing smile. One of those instant attraction sort of things. We ordered. We ate. He would be leaving for Spain soon. For a little while. We talked about that. He was funny. I liked that. And, again- that smile. I was careful to not to bite my lip.

I could see myself actually liking this guy. I shut that down. I can't. I don't want a relationship. I really don't. Neither of us want that and we've actually discussed it. But, in a different time and place, I think I could really like him. And I'm fairly confident I could make him like me, as well.

As we get up to leave, he tells me that he has to go to the bathroom, but that he has parked around the back of the restaurant. I should meet him there. So I do.

I make my way out of the restaurant and to his vehicle on the opposite side of the parking lot from where my probably 13 years older, same model vehicle is parked. The first thing I notice when he meets me outside is his pants. His jeans. Look- we're in South Georgia. Men don't wear nice jeans. They just don't. They wear Levis. (Side note: I have nothing against Levis... but there's something about a nice pair of jeans on a good lookin' man....)

We, again, make small talk. Spain. I want to know if he wants to do something when he returns. He'll be gone for a while. He tells me that he would like that... if I want to.

I do.

I'm nervous. I'm trying so hard to not bite my lip. I don't want to make it so obvious what I want. My keys are twirling around my finger as I nervously try to think of something (anything!) else to say. Do I just leave? Tell him to have a safe trip and hug him goodbye? That seems mighty pathetic after all the shit I talked yesterday. (Hey- I acknowledge that I was talking shit. I told you I'm much better over the phone than in the bedroom)

But I did it. I bit my lip with my head lowered, and looked up at him with my dark brown eyes...

"What did I tell you about biting your lip?" he asked me as he moved toward me. The look in his eyes told me that he was serious. He put his hand behind my head and grabbed a fistful of my hair and forcefully pulled my head back.

He was serious. "I told you not to bite your lip" he said, as he took that very same lip between his own two teeth.

I was in trouble.

I knew it immediately.

He pulled me toward him and I could feel every inch of him pressed against my leg. My imagination couldn't help but wonder what would be had we not been in such a public place.

But were we?? Were we really that public? I looked around. No one was there. His body was pressed tightly against my own.

I didn't want him to stop. I don't think I would have made him stop. Yet, somehow it stopped.

Dry humping in a parking lot like we were 15 years old. I didn't hate it. In fact, I wanted more.

I was already craving him in a way that I couldn't explain. Yet, I walked away.

"Have fun in Spain. Call me when you get back." I told him.

He assured me that he would.

I walked across the parking lot and climbed into my older version of the very same vehicle that my body was just pressed up against. I sat there for a moment to collect myself.

I wanted him. This man that I barely knew. I wanted him.

I text a friend. The "Charlotte" of my friends. She begged to know his true identity. Thinking there was no way she would know who he was, I told her.

She knew him.

She knew him very well.

Turns out... Mr. White has a secret...

And I know what it is.