"What do you want me to say?"

"Tell me the truth. Tell me something, anything, as long as it's honest and real and not some made-up story about how you always wanted me. I won't believe that. But tell me something true, about how you felt, when you would see me, sitting across that table from you, or those weird moments we always seemed to share. It can be anything as long as it's true- an afternoon, a moment, a glance. Just say it."

A night of story-telling ensued. Good story-telling- the kind that's so true and real it makes you swell with nostalgia and regret.

"If only I had known..."

Ah... and if we had both known then, all those years ago, what would that have changed? Would I have straddled you and forced my mouth onto yours? Of course not, my sweet lover. We were good and true. And it would've been wrong. We both know that.

There are two moments, two shared moments, that we both remember with longing and fondness. How strange that we both felt it at the time but convinced ourselves that we were imagining it all, that it was one-sided and would never come to be.

That night when you drove me home- it was Halloween. You dropped my best friend off first even though it made much more sense to drop me off before him. He protested, thinking how odd and out of the way our route would be, but we matched his protestations with our own and silenced him. What were we thinking? How did you know? How did we both feel it? God, all I could think about was being alone with you, even for a measly extra fifteen minutes that this new route would take. I needed those fifteen minutes. I wanted to know what would happen.

Alone with you in that car. Complete silence. Not a word. I wanted to believe that you felt it too (and you did, but only years later did you confess this to me). The air was so thick and heavy. My eyes were shut tight and my head was screaming, "Pull the fucking car over!" And when I opened my eyes I could only stare at your hand, your thigh, the side of your face. And you felt it too. You couldn't look at me. Your hands gripped the steering wheel, turning your knuckles white. You were hard, very hard. You shifted in your seat, adjusting yourself. "Please. Turn into this parking lot, please. It's all I've ever wanted!", I screamed inside my head again. But you turned up my street and stopped the car in front of my door. I got out and you still wouldn't look at me. Part of me knew it, felt it. If only I had told you, said the words... if only...

And then, a week later, out at our regular club. You sat on one of the speakers and watched me dance. I saw you staring at me. I stared back and didn't break, not once. I knew what you were thinking. You were watching me with the most desperate expression on your face, something I had never seen before, something that both thrilled and scared me. You wanted to fuck me, needed to fuck me. You had never been more obvious in your life. And I couldn't explain it away, shrug it off with my usual self-effacing lack of esteem. I never once questioned how you could ever be attracted to me in that moment. In that moment, I just knew. You had practically shouted it out for the whole world to hear. And I looked back at you, matched your growling, primitive stare with my own. "Come and get it", I said. Ah, but you just continued to stare. We couldn't do anything, could we?

And you remember that night as clearly as I do. I have it written down in my diary, dated and everything. But you confirmed it all, years later, even the animal urge that motivated it. Imagine that.

What I didn't know will follow. All those other moments you had and felt, that I didn't know about and never suspected- across the table at O's, sneaking glances at my breasts, daydreaming about screwing me, getting hard just imagining what my cunt would look like.

I want to write it all out and never forget it. All the wonderful things you said to me tonight. It's as close to fate as I'll ever get and some of the most romantic things you've ever said, you said tonight. Why did it take this long? Confessions make me swoon, all puffed-up and dizzy. Please, don't stop, ever.