I stare in shock, words stumbling up my throat only to die on my lips. I should have never opened my mouth, I should have never opened my mouth. But a bubble of happiness pops in my chest cavity, releasing blushes and an inability to control my vocal cords. Judy watches, clearly amused. "I...um...I'm sorry...umm..."
She suddenly leans forward and brushes her lips against mine, as light as rain falling and so, so soft. Butterflies in my stomach? This is a whole different, separate level. More like two armies of those giant butterflies with armor and heavy artillery. And tanks and a whole nuclear arsenal. I stiffen in surprise, ears shorting to attention and she pulls away, seemingly taking it as rejection. She flushes a dark red, picking up her purse. "I-I'm such an idiot, I'm sorry, I'll be going now..." She babbles, and the words somehow reach through the stunned fog clouding my thought processes, and I stand and reach out a paw, not touching her but halting her movement nevertheless.
"No, please. Stay." I manage to articulate, and those eyes flit up to my face, my eyes, harrowing through my soul, but impossibly gentle and open, vulnerable and strong. There are a thousand and one words I try to use to describe her, but no single collection of syllables will ever sum up Judy.
I lean down slowly, hesitantly, giving her plenty of time to run, to stop me. But she stands still, watching me with her quieting eyes. I could drown in those, if she wanted me to. All she would have to do is ask. I would be happy to lose myself to her.
Our lips connect, and those nukes in my stomach? They go off, the fallout reaching my chest cavity, claiming my lungs. My heart? It races at a million miles an hour, and then some. She tastes like a drug I am too easily hooked on, and the withdrawal might just kill me. My paws rest on her waist, and she grips my shoulders, pulling me closer, daring me to take more, take harder. A small noise untangles itself from my vocal cords, and I do as she silently demands, deepening the kiss. This time, she's the one who makes a noise, and I suddenly don't care that there's a dozen other mammals at least in the room.
When we finally pull away, our bodies demanding oxygen, that breath feels like the first of my life.
