Who Was She?

We embrace
Slowly kissing deep
Before we go
Our separate ways.

Between our parked cars
At the washed out end
Of highway 87
Near where the nude beach begins.

I cup the softness of her breast
Fingers tracing the outline of her nipple
As my other hand explores
The small of her back.

My hands gently glide beneath
Her loose cut tank top
Caressing over smooth unblemished pleasures
Which, sadly, I'll not pursue any further that day.

Pressing herself against me
She coos into my ear,
"Sex with you
Would have been great."

Who was she?
We'd only just met that day
Only to leave each other.
Our paths havn't crossed, not yet, anyway.