She knew what would happen if she saw him that night: she would have the time of her life. He would throw his arms around her, and she would drown in his charm. He would twirl her around, and she would dance to a melody only she could hear. She would pretend to not see him in the corner of her eye, and he wouldn’t notice the men wondering if she belonged to him. She would get thirsty, and he would buy her a drink. She would get cold, and he would wrap his scarf around her shoulders.
She knew what would happen if she left with him that night. She would put her legs on top of his, and he would caress her thighs. She would softly kiss his neck, and he would gently play with her hair. He would tell the cab to make a left, and she would get right. They would wind up in front of his room, and she would pretend she didn’t know the right thing to do.
She knew what would happen if she spent the night. He would pull down the top sheet, and she would make a home in his bed. He would fill her up, and she would drain him dry. She would finish, then he would finish. She would fall asleep on his chest, and he would swallow her whole until the morning.
She knew how she would feel the next day. He would get up to shower, and she would watch him intently as he walked around naked. He would get ready for the new day, and she would wash off the night before. She would buy a shirt, because she still wore a good time. He would buy a shirt, because she slept in his only white tee. His time would pass, and she would wish there was some way she could clog the hourglass.
She knew what would happen soon as she landed. She would be here, and he would be there. She knew this would happen. She knew she would feel horrible, lonely, inadequate, foolish, stupid, and “not good enough.” She knew it would go back to the same. old. thing. She knew it was only temporary. Still, she asked herself, if she knew then what she knew now, would she have still went home with him?
In a New York minute. She knew it all along.