(WARNING: Sexually explicit material below and not for children under 18 years of age)
Next time you have a chance to take a deep breath, let it be one where you’re inhaling the scent of my skin as you wrap your arms around me, and we’re alone, finally for the first time, in a building with no doors so no one else can come in.
And time will finally, finally stand still for us.
And when you breathe out, let it be laced with sweet words that only you and I can understand, with sighs and moans that form no words themselves but mean:
I’ve missed you.
I want you.
And promise me you’ll run your hands over my skin. In fact, I demand it, I demand that you touch me every chance you get, with spread out fingers and flat palms, over the same parts of my body I sometimes catch you staring at when you think I’m not paying attention.
C’mon. I’m not stupid. I’m just a girl with a crush.
And I will whisper in your ear about that first time, that first time we kissed and it was not nearly enough. And then I will whisper to you every single thought I’ve had since then and act out a few.
Your lips were here.
Do you like this?
Oh, I’ve been wanting to do this for you so badly, I’ll say, and every syllable will be true.
And I’ll smile.
And you, oh I already know you will be fascinated by the sight of me on your lap, smiling and undone, with bruised lips and my underwear exposed, so that all you have to do is lean forward and dip your fingers inside my sex.
But you won’t. No, you’re too polite for that.
But let’s pretend that you do. This is my fantasy, you see, and in this one you’re the aggressor, not the polite businessman in a three-piece suit.
That can come later.
Instead I will lean into you and you will pull me closer so that we’re chest to chest, tangled and entwined, and you’ll finally touch me where I want you most, a preview of what’s to come. And I’ll lead the way so you can make me explode.
And I will shake with the realization that you’re touching me, that you know me in this way. That you know my taste.
Oh what a lovely thought to have. Better when it’s true.
That alone will be enough.
When I come, there’s two ways you will be able to tell: I will moan. In a deeper, much more intense way. The difference is subtle but it’s there.
And I will let you know.
But if I lose myself, if I forget all thought and don’t know how to speak, then don’t hesitate.
Just remind me to breathe.