Breathing him in

So we walk around the office, pretending not to share a secret smile, but eventually we end up in the same space, with few observers. We close in, magnetically drawn, whispering confirmation of assignations, teasing shorthand, breast touching arm, thigh brushing arse, anything to stand near enough to breathe each other in. Smell is supposed to be the most ancient of senses, routed in the deepest, most primal part of the brain and it drags me instantly back to that hotel bedroom. Flashbacks firing, senses throbbing, breath speeds up as I am transported to moments of gasping, urgent wanting, disbelief that I am in the moment, desperation for the moment not to end. I want Wednesday to be now, the waiting is tortuous perfection.