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I nude feel like I’m dreaming, she whispered, giggling in disbelief, forehead snug to nude my neck. 38 HOURS AND 34 MINUTES AGO. She’d kept on me the rest of the ride home. Walking to the nude front door she began playfully pushing me toward the house, jostling my shoulders or, arms circling my chest, driving me forward, all the time teasing me, calling me her little baby, her big little lovable baby, cutting my breath with unwanted hugs. Her voice floated around me, girly from the wine. I quickened my pace, trying to pull away from her and escape to the house. The key missed its mark and she plowed into me from behind — oof! poor baby, laughing — before the door burst open and we stumbled together across the vestibule. Hysterical laughter in my ear. My fingers jam painfully into the second door and my view blackens. In one sharp motion I spin around and deliver a two-handed shove, more of a chuck, launching her into the center of the large glass pane to the side of the front door, her disbelieving face looking back at mine with curious calm.
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