Then the past called

So there was this girl last night. Her hair was long down past her shoulders. She had faint freckles around her shoulders. If i hiked over a mountain I could rest my weary arms on her wide hips, like a shelf. Her derriere makes me wish I could palm NBA sized basketballs. I would gladly break my face on concrete if it would spare any harm to come on the most perfect set of legs ever. She has a triangle bottom lip.

I was in a hot dark room with this girl. The windows were open and the night breeze would gust in from time to time. There was abundant use of every flat surface. I could taste the salt in her glisten around her collar bone. Its rare to get opportunities hotter than this. This was as hot and heavy as I am allowed to experience.

Then the past called.

My phone was visible so i took a really fast glance at the name of this ill-timed caller. It was her, it was my past. I couldn't take the call (manners ya know), so I let it go to message. But from that moment on while I have an absolute vision breathing heavy in my ears, I could NOT stop thinking, "why was she calling me tonight?".

The past came ringing in for a 2nd time.

Now I am driving myself absolutely up the walls trying to think, "how am I going to get out of this and listen to her message, WHY IS SHE CALLING TWICE?"

I know exactly why this happened like it did. I know why I wanted to hear a voicemail more than sweat with a goddess. No analysis required.