Dallas-Last Night

She finally called last night at 12:30.

"Hey. How...how are you," I asked, swelling in the case the second the phone rang, the second her picture showed up on my iPhone as her calling.

"Hmmm, I'm tired," she yawned, not a surprising response for 12:30 on a Friday night/Saturday night, though that wasn't quite the answer I was looking for.

"It...it's late," I gulped, late, too late for just dinner, obviously, she knew, I knew.

"Yea, sorry, we, he got a movie, so we had dinner, sat on the couch, watched a movie, talked for a little."

She knew, tease, she knew, my grunt was obvious, if she did not.

"We didn't fuck, lover, that's what you want to know, isn't it? We could have, he's a man, he would have, it was obvious, but we didn't."

"Em..."

"But you thought about it all night, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"He was sitting close to me; I could smell him, feel him. Every time I moved, my skirt rode up and I think he spent more time looking at my legs than the movie, but you like that."

"Damn, Em, yes."

"My little sissy, imagining a man next to me, you're so adorable."

We just chatted after that, signed off.

Nothing happened, though for nothing, that is all I thought about all evening.