Pull the plug

Her herbal smell hits me like a brick wall when I entered her house.  The same smell I thought about and imagined after the other night.  The smell of her hair.  The smell of the air I inhaled as she kissed me on the dark dance floor. 

She gives me a tour of her house; the dark living room, the kitchen filled with the warm, soft light of evening.  The same light filled the bedroom.  Stay out, I thought. But I walk in to see the bathroom with a beautiful tub.  An image flashes in my mind – the two of us naked, laughing in the tub.  Do I imagine it when I see the tub, or later, over dinner?

She calls me a name only lovers have used, casually, over dinner. I hate it because it feels so good. We’re laughing.  “Stop,” she says smiling.  I keep laughing, not knowing what I’m supposed to stop doing. 

Back at the house, I get my bag and leave. I could have hovered, could have sat on the porch, could have asked to watch a movie with her. But I feel the electricity between us and need to pull the plug.  When did she start being attracted to me?  It doesn’t matter I tell myself. I hug her goodbye for an instant longer than I should.  Her girlfriend only lives two blocks away.