I lay nude, contemplating my recent short comings. My skin is dampened, sweaty from the mornings sun that is peering in on me. My words were to be perfectly scripted, my actions, meticulously choreographed, but my heart thickened the plot. As I stare at the ceiling, I wonder: where did my strength and resolve go?
I was never a jealous or controlling lover. I was always able to separate my feelings from tainting my insatiable love of sex. I am not able to discern exactly what has jilted my demeanor, but I know I have little control of it. I reach to the side table, fumbling to start my Cd player. As I stretch, the softness of white satin sheets rubs my nipples awakening them. With the purr of jazz playing, the steaminess of the room lingers and my mind wanders to him again, a familiar fantasy unraveling scene by erotic scene. My hands move in auto pilot to fulfill my longing. A relaxing cycle of controlled release, recently felt lost, is returned briefly. A screaming phone interrupts pleasure, I spring erect to answer it.
"How much longer does this go on?" I query weakly.
The voice is coy and careful but he is obviously disturbed by my actions. I listen as he tells me of my errors and firmly "suggests" a different approach. Much to his dismay, I grow agitated and decide to cut short the conversation, a decision I know full well I will regret at a later point in time. I lay back down, tears slowly trailing down my face until I thankfully doze off.
A tapping at the door startles me, I had been asleep for hours, I am not prepared for the visitor I imagined would be standing to greet me. I find an old jersey, pull it over my head, shake out my sweat dampened hair and sprint to the door. Through the peephole I see him pacing methodically with little emotion on his face.
He slides by me silently, I look to his dark eyes, knowing instantly why he is here. The weight of his body knocks me to the foyer wall. My jersey seems to float over my head, dropping to the tile floor. He takes a firm hold on my hair and pulls it back quickly, I gasp as he bites down on my neck and grazes up to my ear.
"You shouldn't be here" I whisper, receiving no response.
"Is this worth the risk?" I ask again, hoping for an answer.
"You are, yes."
No other words are spoken. My legs are lifted up from under neath me as he feasts on every inch of bare flesh while balancing me against the wall. I am frozen in the fear that if I move, my skin might lose contact with his mouth, even a moment would be a great loss.
I am placed gently down on the tile with one swift motion and find him tasting my core. I am trying to hold myself completely still but keep slipping back on the tile, he does not notice, intently pleasuring me again and again. Slowly, I feel the heat of his mouth travel up to my ribcage and focus on my breasts. Little nibbles turn harder and I almost lose rational thought under his wandering touch. He slips off his shirt and I pull him down to taste myself in his kiss.
By this point I need him inside me more than I have ever wanted another. He complies forcefully and there plays a chorus of passionate noises echoing through my home.
Then it becomes eerily still. He softly falls to my side as we try to catch the breath that had been taken away from us in the moment.
There are still no words, none are needed. He would spend the night by my side, making me remember what it felt like to really need someone.
Someone I may never have.