Best laid

RMP-plane

She plans to sit on some front porch, rocking away,  both ravaged and sated, with stories to tell herself and maybe share with some trusted friends.

Over the years, she’s stockpiled the feelings and the scents of knowing intimate truths.

No, time was not getting away from her.   Not this year,  she has made sure.  These memories she locks in her mind, they are sharp, everlasting, will let her rise up to her hand when she lies alone in a bed.   The more she learns, the less she needs to proclaim so she stores it all up to savor and sustain.

This time, as with all adventures,  she again chooses a time to chase, to be still,  to reflect, to accept,  and then to fly.

As she prints her boarding pass, she looks around his place with blissful fatigue.

She had come into his arms, contractually bound with blind understanding.  As requested, she tiptoed through his world in the night and walked in stilettos through his mind during the day.   She fed him the words he wanted to hear, gave him the seduction, the touch, the rebellious spirit he attempted to tame in the time they made for each other.

She gracefully, artfully shared her curves, her smiles, her bed.  Nimble and pleasure-driven,  she added laughter and lit up his life with her simple,  giving nature.

Half fantasy, half truth she fueled his living hours with purpose.  She asked him to travel to her,  to lie with her, to wake with her body next to his,  to be taken again at the close of each day.

She knew her own needs and met his with equal desire – the twisting above him, the rocking of his body, the pouring of her self over him- all delicious and tasty,  her love making a  sensual curry of spicy, of dirty, of rough.

And now,  reclined in his bed, her skin wet with sweat, her bed-head all couture in its disheveled state,  she slowly kisses him, and tastes her self on his lips.  She traces the lines of his face,  lets her touch incite his usual reaction and she halfheartedly urges his restraint.

The price of adoration is steep.  She has exposed all his mysteries, and leads him to feel the unraveling of his mind, the limitations in this life.   He wakes in the night and calls out her name.  His insatiable want has bled into need.

.

.

She feels his heart, shamelessly beating staccato, precisely and beautifully keeping time with hers.  Contract: broken. 

.

 #for Reticent Mental Property.

6 thoughts on “Best laid

Reply to Ret

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s