Six Days

It's been six days.

Six days since my boss asked me if I'd like to meet up for drinks that night.
Six days since he texted me what I was doing within an an hour of leaving work.
Six days since I changed out of my boots to my high heels before heading out.
Six days since we met up at the bar and sat at a booth together in a low light.
Six days since he looked at my right foot like it would kill him.
Six days since he picked up my foot. Six days since his large, calloused, and roughly hewn fingers glided along the high curve that is the arch of my foot.
Six days since he and I spent a couple of hours scheming, strategizing, and calculating how to better assert our department and its success.
Six days since we would occasionally break from our intense discussion to get to know each other better through personal stories.
Six days since we would make less than appropriate glances, gestures, and jokes.
Six days since he ended up pulling up next to me on my side of the booth.
Six days since he told me that it had been a very long time since he had been so wildly attracted to someone as he was to me.
Six days since we vowed to each other to not let this affect our work life. Six days since I tasted his lips.
Six days since we eventually were in a hotel room pressing into each other hungrily.
Six days since he tasted me and growled in delight.
Six days since I had done things to and with a man that I have never done before.
Six days since I woke up.