I am precariously perched on a barstool at a little no-name restaurant, waiting for my mother to arrive, as has become our Wednesday night tradition, and I am slowly luxuriating with sweet mango and tequila with lime on the rocks gliding down my throat, lips occasionally kissing the salted rim of my glass as I both enjoy and try to abate the electric upswell of sensations and heightened awareness of this state of being - rush of blood to the extremities, a flutter of the heart, trembling of hands, and soft, defined curves underneath suddenly annoyingly uncomfortable garments, right down to firm calves and into my toes.
If you could just visualize the discreetness with which I have tensed my inner thighs to quell the ache, to feign keying in a simple, thoughtful reply to your correspondence from my mobile phone, all the while wishing I were in the sanctity of my shower or bed that I might find relief, however shallow it would be in comparison to having the luxury of satiating my hunger for you right now. A hunger, yes, because it leaves me hurting, ravenous even, feeding a starving need with an empty and unfulfilling indulgence.
Even the biting cold on return to the comfort of my vehicle cannot but stir the want to wrap my arms around your neck and sink my hips against yours, to be snugly enveloped in your warmth in a seemingly innocent gesture that would belie the lustful tide in subtle ebb and flow beneath my skin.
My desire is not to lure you into a carnal dance of wills, as we are such that neither of us could truly dominate the other. To compete would leave two equally matched opponents in constant stalemate, ever blurring the lines of who is seducing whom. Neither could I lose control, because I could only surrender to you, that you would surely take all of me, emboldening all that I am, holding without possessing me, and with the knowledge that you do not "own" me, but I, as a woman, "belong" to you.
To feel you, in pure, unadulterated masculinity, begin, as music, in adante, and rise to a breathtaking fortissimo before receding in the final moments of our coupling. And, greedily, I begin with the end to a worthy composition, but my mind lingers in sensual depths of wanting, washing over me as the waters of a dark and tremulous lake, with you in both powerful contrast and tandem with its current... our bodies entwined, scents intermingled, mutual passion a rival to the heat of the summer sun... The sensation of skin on skin, the hardness of your body pressing as I claw in effort to take all of you into me until I can only breathe your name in ragged gasps and clench you tightly both in hand and body unto a shattering crescendo... That is my desire.