Just some lines from a new story I’m creating. Very light and romantic, no heavy stuff at this point:

I took the glass, smelled the aroma very carefully. What lovely flavours! I think I closed my eyes briefly as I tasted the first drops, wanting to really take in the full taste with no interruptions from the other senses. But my imagination seemed to race, images came to me as I drank, filled with those exquisite sensations, the soft touches……….
– Now how was that?
No, it wasn’t true, I was just imagining things again. But it was as if she had done something to me and she had asked about my feelings of pleasure afterwards. I had to shake those images and feelings away, this was just a question about the wine, come on!, I thought.
– Exquisite! Well, very full, fruity, vanilla, just what I like! What a great offer!
Vanilla, oh, that’s probably the taste of her, I imagined. And if she had a better offer, I would take it this very instant.
– Napa Valley, eh?
I just wanted to know more about where the grapes had been grown, but at the same time it made me think about kissing along the nape of her neck. Why was this happening?