A KISS IS JUST A KISS... or is it?
Ah, the all-important kiss. Where would a romance novel be without it? That tender, fierce, loving, passionate, happy, angry, long-awaited, she-didn't-know-she-loved-him-till-that-kiss moment. I've read a kajillion of them; some good, some lousy... but they all serve that so-important purpose of bonding the hero and heroine, on paper, in the movies and in real life.
I've been thinking about kissing rather than snarking because a) I couldn't make up my mind about covers this morning and Klimt was just calling me, and b) because my blogfriend Missie commented on last Thursday's TT she wanted to know more about the "good kisser" I mentioned.
Well, (blush) I have a friend. I've known him for quite some time. It's a long story, but despite the attraction factor (he was cute, I'll admit it) he came on too strong at the wrong time and all I ever saw in him was a player--he'd hit on me every time he came into my work and I always felt like he just wanted to score and I so wasn't there (but when he wasn't hitting on me, he was actually a nice guy). Then there was 6 years of me with the FS, I stopped working at that job for a period of time and we fell out of touch. Then, of course, December happened, my house happened, I went back to work part time at the old job for extra money... and I wondered about him. We got back in touch, went out to lunch, and things just sort of... happened. We're not dating, we're not getting serious. We just agreed we both deserve to have some fun. Including kissing. And more kissing. And more stuff.
And man, can he kiss. I haven't been kissed like this in over 10 years. He's one of those long, slow kissers that lock on and don't stop until you're breathless. Ooh. Oh dear. I'm getting breathless just thinking about it. I'd better take a cold shower.