Nape

So there I am, Thursday late afternoon, getting ready to kick it into 5th gear for the evening ahead. Mental clutch engages and I pause for a second to drink in the last moments of visible daylight before we go to work on a concept about a sleep drug as darkness drops down around Manhattan. I feel a sudden flash of warm breath on the back of my bandaged neck, followed within a heartbeat by the enveloping of arms around my chest. It’s J. coiling around me. We talk for a few seconds and she moves in close to raise a cascade of those glimmering locks for me to touch beneath. She shows me a heart-shaped scar on her hairline. The nape of her neck is soft, warm and abounding with sensual potential.