First Dates.

She wore a Green Dress. The type of green from military uniforms. Quiet and calming and unassuming. The green that puts you at ease. The shade that makes you think, even if for a fleeting second, everything is being handled. Envy is associated with green and until this day I had never understood, well not completely, what that meant. It wasn't just a dress she had put on, she donned it. She slid inside and each curve of her tall slender body met with a perfectly curved bit of that dress.

Large Brown Buttons down the front. The first at the top of that collar that folded down so nice and pressed. Brown Button One, holds the neckline together. Nothing showing that a mother wouldn't approve of, nothing more needed to be shown. Modesty arouses more than just the intellect. 

Brown Button Two, just above the bust, pulling the fabric together just right. Nary too tight or naught, perfect and tightly drawn across the bosom. I shall not tarry here, suffice my choice of the words to supply information enough to support the idea of perfection.

Brown Button Three below the bust. The top of the tummy. Flat, soft and warmly inviting of my hand. 

Brown Button Three and Four work together and keep the Green Dress pulled once more taut and trim around her waist. Slight wrinkle between them, enough for one finger to fill the void when my arms sneaks around from behind her and I pull her close for a hug and sneak a kiss on those impeccably kissable cheeks. 

Hips, those amazing hips, they curved outward from her waist at the exact angle that they should. Sexy degrees, that's the angle. I will not submit for argument on that point. Her hips filled the Green Dress. 

Brown Button Five, just below that cute navel. Hidden beneath the Green Dress, adorned with a quiet curved metal stud. Soft white skin and perfectly round, the belly button. Brown Button Six just below and right above the pelvis. Brown Button Six is the last. 

The Green Dress extends to just above her knees. They are pink on top and slightly bruised, standing out like a pair of toes on a white rabbit's foot. White legs, smooth and hairless and long. Miles long. Hours long. Lifetimes long. Her legs go all the way from her ankles to her hindquarters. Skin white and clean, well cared for but also well used.

She doesn't sit in my passenger seat so much as she curls up in it. As I drive with my left hand, she grips firmly but gently my right. Her fingers slender and long, wrapping around to the back of my hand, palms together. My hands not sweating with nervous energy. Calm, relaxed, at ease, and full of comfort our hands mesh well, My long bony and somewhat misshapen fingers and her perfectly daft digits finding ways to fit. She guides my driving along with calmly spoken verbal cues. Confident in my driving, or her ability to feign such is outstanding.

We arrive, amidst a cool late summer drizzle. My wipers have no setting which keeps both my windshield clear of water and my wipers from not chattering across a dry glass surface. I ignored the chattering, as I dare not lose grip of her delicate hold. Green Truck is parked, I scamper out of my door, quickly around the bed. The race to chivalrous intention is afoot. I fling myself around the passenger rear corner of the truck bed. My boots slip but only slightly and I lurch forward hand reaching toward the door handle. I make it in time and open the door. There, in my passenger seat, curled up and looking stunning and coy, she sits. I extend my hand and she accepts, her brown boots pointed toe down and probing towards the wet pavement.

The boots, brown and covering just above the ankle, Brown Boot One slides down, pointed toward the ground and slowly lowering. The toe just grazing that wet firmament, flexing slightly, and before the heel touches, Brown Boot Two quickly matches pace and before falling to the heels, my arms wrap around her waist and I lean in.

I steal a kiss.