Plumes of smoke

"Are you hair flirting?" He said as he sipped on his glass of whisky. He gazed at me long enough to give me butterflies. His eyes were big and deep; full of lust. I twirled my brown tendrils and took another puff of shisha. "No, not at all," I said grinning mischievously. "Well, it's beautiful. I want to burry my face in it... among other things." I stopped and quickly took a sip of my libation to cool any burning sensation evident on my face. Again, he made me blush. He was good at that. "It's just hair," I said with a nervous giggle. "Yah, but it's yours," he said, still maintaining his fixed longing.