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An Easy Choice

Not so long ago, I was invited to write a guest post for Kit over at Blogging Dangerously.  Something sexy.  I can do sexy.  So I sat down and wrote a post.

Hmmm.

Maybe a little too sexy.  Maybe a little more about myself than I wanted to share.

Maybe I could just play it off as fiction.

So I sent a message to Kit.

Her response was short and to the point.  I don’t remember her exact words, but it boiled down to, “Not looking for fiction.  If you’re interested in doing the guest post, send me a true story.”

Hmmm.

So I wrote a different funnier true story and put the sexier true story aside.

The funnier story did quite well.

But the sexier story still wants to be told.

So here we go . . .

There had been many men.

Mostly bad choices or choices forced upon me.

Hard choices, all.

And so this woman standing across the room?  With the tousled hair and the contagious laughter?  With the easy sexuality?

This woman issuing a bold invitation with her eyes and her smile?

Looked softer.

An easy choice.

And so I found myself closing the distance between acknowledgment and acceptance of this invitation.  Moving closer.  Intrigued.

A dare to myself and also a challenge to this woman with the knowing eyes, “What will you do?  I see you.  I hear your thoughts.  What will you do?”

She charged the air around her with anticipation.  Everyone waited to see what she would say next.  What she would do next.  The conversation flowed, and many people spoke, but she?  Set the pace and determined the course of the conversation.  She was all sparkly magic and I stood at the edge of the group, sipping my drink, entranced.

Silent.

Afraid for a moment that I had misunderstood.  Afraid that I had read too much into a glance, wanted something that wasn’t there.  Imagined.

And then she broke off mid-sentence and met my eyes.

The something I wanted?  It was there.

Not imagined.

I moved closer.  She reached to brush my hair back from my cheek.  Took my drink from my hand and tasted it.  Laughed.  Handed back my glass.

Not imagined.

Her hand now casual across the small of my back as she turned to speak with someone else.  A claiming to which I gladly surrendered myself.  So simple to hand myself over to this confident softer other.

An easy choice.

She spoke few words to me, but few were necessary.  I moved into the embrace of her arm as easily as if it had been shaped for only me.  A perfect fit.  I reached a hand to caress the back of her neck, to trace the shape of her jaw with my fingertip.  Softly.

Still she held court, laughed and spoke to others.  But she tensed beneath my touch.  I felt her skin shudder beneath my hand as I ran down the center of her back to rest at her waist.  A claiming of my own, to which she surrendered with a slight shift of her weight, an adjustment in her stance . . . a further softening.

Lovely.

An easy choice.

And then apart, the two of us together.  What was a claim became a taking.

Breaths intermingled, soft lips, a gentleness I had not before known.  An urgency with which I was familiar, paired with unbelievable tenderness.  An exquisite fragile urgency.

An easy choice.

Skin on my skin, breath on my skin, mouth on my skin, fingers and hands on my skin.  Beneath me and above me and within me.  She became me and consumed me.   I pulled her to me as though to make her me, no spaces between our beings.  A perfect fit.

We moved together.  Moved together and met . . . together in a different place.  Her eyes less bold now as they met mine, full of some less confident emotion.

I kissed her deeply, savoring the feel of her mouth beneath mine.  The soft perfection of her tongue against mine, the yielding.  The giving of herself to me.

An easy choice.

I traced a line with my tongue down her neck, down to her breasts.  Small flicks of my tongue brought instant reward and I lingered.   Taking her between my teeth, nibbling but threatening more as she arched upward into my breath.  I traced a line from her stomach down, the soft flesh catching beneath my movement as she gasped.  My cheek against her thigh, soft kisses marking my path.  A fragile urgency.

Lovely.

An easy choice.

I sank into this woman who had issued a bold invitation across the room.

An invitation accepted.

An easy choice.


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    October 18th, 2010 | Tags: , , , , , , , |

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