...he says, getting closer and closer
"Yes, your intensity honours me, but perhaps I cannot match it hour by hour every day. Maybe that's disappointing to you.
Anyhow, I suspect you are more advanced than I am -- or maybe just different -- in terms of concentration, energy, and emotional flow. This could mean your nature is to jump right into things with two feet, where as I am more slow moving. Maybe I cannot process or metabolise experiences as quickly as you can. Maybe this is something I like about you... I think it is.
For me, though, something like what we've just "found" in each other needs other to be integrated into what exists already in all the facets of my life, from my psychology to my schedule.
Patience my dear, patience"
He told her that with a fierce look in his eyes. He knew how to stare at her locking her eyes to his. He knew how to disempower her with words.
"I am not good with patience, I feel like I am losing ground. I am afraid if I slow down and wait, then people will leave, desire will leave, and I don't want to miss it, I don't want to miss you while you are around" she uttered, shy, strangely, she never is shy.
"Shhhhh," he said, pushing her backward gently onto the bed.
"And you see, when I sent you that picture earlier...it was quite personal, it was for you, and you didn't say a thing...this is how my ego gets bruised and...", she was in the mood for sulking a bit, nervous for what was about to happen.
"Relax..... I liked getting the photo -- it's blurry but is that a flogger? Anyway, it arrived during my marathon meeting and I didn't see it till hours later when I was feeling motion sick in the backseat of a car and in the midst of a forced and tedious conversation with the most annoying uber driver ever. Then the message feed rolled on, and the photo slipped through the cracks. Sorry, darling. Now, speaking of slippery cracks...."
And as he says this, he slips his fingers beneath the elastic of her knickers. She sighs as his fingers find what they're looking for...
She had been waiting for this for days now at the point of wondering whether it was ever going to happen or whether she had instead become transparent and untouchable. He looked at her with that lustful look of lazy weekends morning and her fire came back, for him.
And, once more, all was right in the world. The universe was again hospitable to her emotions, comprehensible to her intellect, and pleasurable to her body and soul. Though a foreigner, she was not an alien; though the full moon loomed, she was not a lunatic.
And she could allow herself to forget him, at least for a short while.
And she could allow herself to forget him, at least for a short while.
Comments