Sunday, September 10, 2006

yummy weekend

Saturday night. Seattle. We both wore skirts to dinner. His was a black utili-kilt pinned with a silver-sword. Tall socks with a black-handled knife slipped into the top of the right one. Sweater nearly the same colour as the socks. A white shirt underneath, its cuffs making his wrists look almost delicate. Hands moving with precision and grace during the meal. Beautiful beard, closely-trimmed. Voice well-modulated, soft, and velvety. He smiles, sitting opposite me, with mouth and eyes. Lovely man. Gentle man. Sexy man.Hotel parking lot. Conversation lulls, I move to exit the car. Flash of white cuff in the darkness, his arm reaching toward me. Hand on the back of my neck, mouth on mine, tongue insistent. Assertive. Formality all night, no hint of passion and then this---this explosion of sensation. Firm hands, warm lips, breath fanning my face. Beard soft, so soft under my fingertips. His questing fingers find my weakness, massaging my nipple, making me whimper and sigh into his mouth. Fingers in my hair, mouth branding my neck, my collarbone. His hardness, my wetness, both of us aching. Kissing like ardent teenagers. Someone enters a nearby car. We part, reluctantly. Short, unsteady walk to the hotel room. Collapsing onto the luxurious king-sized bed. Sleep is a long time coming, but eventually she kisses my eyelids. Warm, moist slide into oblivion.Sunday morning. Early. Wide-awake after 6 hours' rest. He is sleeping, of course. Does he dream of me, I wonder? Sunday is bath day. Filling the whirlpool tub with water. Fresh razor, bath milk from Roger&Gallet, ice water to sip, a book to read: a Jungian interpretation of a Romanian story. Subtitled a tale of feminine redemption. Heh. Redemption indeed. Hair up, long soak in the huge tub. Bouyant breasts. Exploring skin with sensitive fingertips, noting where a razor should attend. Finding that slickness which water cannot imitate, there, between my loins. Fingers sliding, electrifying, dancing across my pleasure-center. Sighs and moans. Fulfillment and release. Pruned feet. Let the shaving begin. Mmmm. Yes... let the shaving begin.

Labels: , ,

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home