The room is full of smoke and warm bodies.

You come to stand behind me as I sit at the bar

all pale pink silk and pearls.

I drink my chilled wine

as you order a scotch and take that first sip.

Your body is so close I can feel your heat

and hear that slight rasp

as you breathe in my roses and southern jasmine.

Our eyes meet in the mirror

for less than a moment.

My heart begins racing

as I understand your thoughts.

My skin flushes

as the back of your hand brushes my bare arm.

My body leans toward you

and the scent of desire wafts up

like mist from the morning river.

Our bodies sing to one another

still not touching.

The music slows as the saxophone begins

"I Can See Your Dreams."

I close my eyes

and see you

kissing my neck,

your hand on the small of my back,

your thigh pressing close

against the invitation between my legs.

Our moan is low and deep.

I raise my eyes to see you watching.

I feel your erection as you cross

that inch,

that gulf,

and breathe pure fire onto my neck.

"Chance, are you ready to go?"

The mirror reflects regret that matches mine

and you follow your wife

out of my night.