I’m staring at you, but you don’t even feel my eyes burning into the back of your neck. I wish, just once, you’d turn around. Just once? Oh well. I can dream, can’t I?

I’m glad we had class outside today. It’s warm out, and the professor doesn’t expect us to really pay attention. How could he, when there are people playing Frisbee only ten feet away from him? So I can daydream, and he won’t care.

I can daydream about how once, just once, when I’m watching you, you’ll turn around and see me. I’ll blush, because I’m always watching you, even though you don’t know it. And you’ll smile. You like it when girls blush. It makes you wonder what we’re thinking. I don’t mind telling you what I’m thinking.

When you see me, I turn away for a second, but then I glance back, out of the corner of my eye. Your attention has turned back to the professor, but I can see you glance at me and I blush again. Caught by something in my eye, some telltale expression, you turn again to face me, and I blow a kiss to you. You smile, and I think you’re laughing at me. When class is over, I run away quickly, embarrassed to see you, not willing to take the chance that you will speak to me.

Even in my daydreams I am unsure. How would you react if you knew how often I thought of you? If you knew how I thought of you? I doubt you’d blush. You don’t seem the type.

In my daydream, after you’ve seen me, after I’ve run away, I see you later in the dining hall. I know you’ve seen me because you start talking to your friends, and they all look at me. I turn away, afraid of what they’re saying about me. I’m not pretty. Not like her, the girl you saw last year. But I’m me, and that should count for something, shouldn’t it? Maybe it would, if you knew me, even a little bit.

I daydream about a class in which we have to work together on a project. We spend time researching, talking, and laughing. You finally know me, and I think maybe, maybe, you like what you have found, just a little. And the next time I look at you, you look back and smile.

The best part of my daydream is when you look for me. When you say you want to spend time with me. When I feel eyes burning a hole in my neck and see your eyes watching me. Your eyes sparkle with mischief, and I wonder if you daydream the way I daydream. For I’ve daydreamed every moment of what it would be like if you should touch me. I’ve daydreamed about your body, about your kiss.

I think about you, standing tall over me, bending to kiss me. My lips part slightly, and I feel the heat spread through me as my body melts in your arms. Your lips kiss a trail of hot fire down the side of my neck, then up again so you can nibble on my ear. You excite me so much that my breath is quickly coming in short gasps, and you haven’t even undressed me.

When you reach for the top button of my blouse, I stop you. Even in my dreams, I want to seduce you every step of the way. I slowly unbutton the blouse and arch my shoulders as I slip it off, so my breasts strain forward, catching your eyes. I see you smile, and again I stop you before you can touch me. I want to see just how hot I can make you without even touching you, without your touching me.

I slowly slip my jeans over my hips, easing them gently to the ground, then kick them to the side with my foot. I am now only in my bra and panties, and I can see your eyes have grown warm with desire. Then I unhook my bra, and as I ease it off, your arms catch mine, pinning them to my side. I have inflamed you, and you’ll not stand alone any longer. Your lips sear mine, and I find my reason melting away, fleeing until my brain only knows what my body knows, and I know I want you.