You're just too young.

It was a sunny day, the sun shining through the window and warming up the room. I was wearing a tank top, and I could feel my nipples hardening against the thin fabric.

I looked over at her: she was wearing a button-up shirt with the first few buttons undone. The shirt wasn't quite long enough to keep me from seeing the edge of her bra: black and lacy, like mine. When she stood up to get something from the kitchen, her shirt shifted just slightly, exposing another inch of her bra strap; when she sat down again, it slid back into place.

She must have been doing it on purpose—she knew how much I loved seeing her body under those clothes. It made me wetter than anything else could have done.

When she came back into the living room with our drinks—beer for me, wine for her—I couldn't help myself: I reached out and ran my fingers along her thigh through those thin cotton pants. "Are you trying to seduce me?" she asked playfully.

"Maybe," I replied coyly as I moved closer to her on the couch. Her hand moved down onto my thigh as well; it felt so good to have

The moment I saw her, I knew she was the one. And not just because she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever laid eyes on—though she was certainly that. It was something else. Something in her eyes. I don't know if it was a spark, or an energy, or what—but there was something there, and I knew it.

She had the kind of face that could make a man lose his mind: strong jawline, full lips, and piercing eyes that seemed to bore into your soul when she looked at you. She had long dark hair that fell down her back like a waterfall of silk, and when she moved it shifted with every step she took—thick and smooth as oiled iron. She wore a red dress that clung to every curve on her body like a second skin, with just enough fabric left over to cover up those curves without obscuring them in any way whatsoever (and yet somehow still managing to look modest).

I couldn't take my eyes off her as we walked through the mall together—not even for a second—because every time I looked away from her for even just a few seconds

"I'm sorry," she said, "but I don't think this is going to work."

"What?" I said. "Why not?"

She shrugged. "It's just… I don't know. You're too young for me."

I scoffed. "Come on! You're not that much older than me!"

She shook her head. "You're sweet, but it's just not going to work out."

"Well, wait!" I said, grabbing her arm and pulling her back towards me. "Let's try again."

I was sitting in my car, waiting for my friend to come out of the shop. I was trying to decide what I should do next—I was supposed to meet some friends for dinner and drinks later that evening, but it was already almost noon.

The shop door opened, and my friend stepped outside. She waved at me and walked over to the driver's side window. "Hey," she said, "I'm ready now."

"What did they say?" I asked as she climbed into the passenger seat.

She shrugged. "They said it's working fine."

"Oh." I frowned. "Well… did they give you any idea when it might start working again?"

Another shrug. "They said it could be anything from a few days to a few weeks." She paused then added, "At least we know there's something actually wrong with it."

I nodded slowly and pulled away from the curb. "Yeah…" We were silent for a couple minutes before she finally spoke again: "Do you want to get lunch?"