New opinions are always suspected, and usually opposed,
without any other reason but because they are not already common

-John Locke

Society wouldn't understand it. Society wouldn't like it. Society wouldn't accept it. Society would rip it, throw it to the ground, stomp on it, spit, then stomp on it some more. However, despite how society would look at me, I was still here. And as I stand with her under the cool air of my office, I discovered what society thought of me―us―didn't mean a damn thing. Who cared what Velma and all those like her would think. Screw society.

If it meant I couldn't be with her, to be able to connect to her in anyway, why the hell should I live by societies standards?

I swiftly kiss her again. It was weird the first time we kissed, but that was about a month ago. Time seem to be fleeting. Passing by so carelessly that it had hardly phased me. And yet, time seem to be standing still within each passing moment. With each embrace that's steadily getting tighter. With each kiss that's quickly getting more passionate. With each soft moan that's growing louder.

"Maybelle," is the only word I can muster in-between our session.

My hands adventure the curves of her back as my tongue dances with hers. Her arms held me tightly to her. Her hands clutching my hair with such veracity that I'm afraid that she might pull it out. But it feels so good. So damn good. Would have felt better if we were naked.

How I wish we were free of clothes. In this moment, and many moments like this one, didn't want them. They make me uncomfortable. They make me too hot. I didn't want to hide anymore. I wanted to be bare in front of the world with her. Show them how much I care for. Show them their suspicions were right. Prove to them that I'm right.

I'm right for loving her.

I realize that my thoughts of sex somehow warped into something much bigger. I shook it off for now, not wanting to get distracted from Maybelle in this rare, stolen moment. My time with her is definitely numbered. I can make out the faint sounds of heels clacking onto the floor. Maybelle must be able to hear it too, since she stiffens a little. I take my lips off hers, only to latch onto her neck. She gives me a nudge, indicating our time was up for the afternoon. But I couldn't let her go.

I continue to suck on her neck, pretending I didn't notice her nudge. She melts into me one last time. The footsteps get louder. I feverishly spread kisses over her neck and jaw line. Planting quick kisses all over her face. I quickly grind our pelvises together, trying to get some relief. The clanking heels seem to boom in our ears. Velma's clearly close to my office. But I keep planting kisses over supple, brown skin. Just one more kiss. Just one more after that one. Just a few more...Until Maybelle finally just pushes me off, and we try to catch our breaths. Trying our best to calm down. To fix ourselves up proper and act as casual as possible for whoever it is passing by.

The door swings open, and, as expected, it's Velma. She glances at Maybelle, then back at me. She tells me something that I can't really understand. My ears somehow manages to tune her out as she rants about something before flinging some papers on my desk. I didn't bother to look at them as she storms out. I look at Maybelle as she glances at the clock on the wall.

"It's starting to get late," I hear her voice say. "I should be getting home, Shug."

I nod. We steal a quick kiss, and she's out the door. She hadn't packed up her things before our little session, so she's probably going to be around the station for a good five minutes before she leaves. I sigh to myself. These little, stolen moments weren't enough. They'll never be enough. I wanted her. All of her. Even if it's a sin. Or at least that's what society would call it. It just wasn't fair that I couldn't treat her like mine. To be able to kiss her in public without eyes of hatred glaring at us. To be able to take her on a real date outside my apartment. To just be able to hold her hand without the entire world sprinting into a frenzy!

It didn't matter how many times I curse it. It didn't matter how many times I said that I could less about it. It didn't even matter if I fought it the rest of my life.
Society still had a hold on me. . .

But I knew one day that'll change.

One can never be consent to creep when one feels the impulse to soar
-Helen Keller