She had wide back and smooth rounded shoulders. Under her skin as soft as peach skin I felt so much power trapped there. Not just the power of arm that can shoot handball precisely just in that very corner impossible to defend, but also power of passion, made gentler by her permanent smile. It was a smile that asks for forgiveness. Not for some big sin, but for small mischief, nibbling on a pie before it was time for dinner, hiding that last cookie, or fingers dipped in honey.
I couldn't wrap my arms around her. Though so stocky, she just appeared to be sluggish, it was a nifty trick. She learned well how to snake and weave to avoid the defense players. Part of her softness was a certain slippery quality. She would just slip her hand out of mine. Turn her head so that my kiss bumps against tender neck instead of her lip. It was not a seductive hide and seek.
She honestly believed she shouldn't belong to me. As if she was afraid that I will jump on those big wide shoulders for her to piggyback me. As if she was afraid that I will simply sink my teeth into her peachy skin and suck the juice.
We simply were not different enough...
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