“When are you coming downtown to see me? It’s been too long.”
The words send an unexpected frisson of excitement through me. My breath quickens, my eyes close.
I imagine a dreary day, much like today. We’re standing in a secluded area somewhere downtown. It’s a narrow alleyway, perhaps. Quiet, deserted. Tall brick walls rise on three sides of us. Traffic whishes softly on the street, but the sidewalk is deserted, the weather having chased most pedestrians indoors or to their cars.
My back is to you as I speak, looking at something, pointing it out. You move behind me, quietly, but I sense your approach as palpably as if we're connected by a taut, invisible cord. You are so close I feel the heat of your breath against my ear. For a moment we stand together like that, savoring the longing between us, not quite touching, savoring the tension.
Finally, you lower your lips to my neck and softly kiss me there. I sigh. You grow bolder, folding your arms around my waist. You press your body against mine and nibble the skin of my neck. Tingles of pleasure surge through my core like bolts of lightning. I gasp.
The desire is too strong. I shouldn’t have come here. I knew so even when I agreed to meet you. I knew my visit wasn’t only about old friends reuniting, old souls reconnecting. It was about this, this desire, this passion, this feeling of fulfillment, of complete understanding between souls, of pleasure too long denied—none of which, perhaps, should ever have been cast aside. All of it rolled into an electric bundle of emotion that leaves our nerve-endings zinging with the possibility of what might have been. Of what might yet be.
I turn around and wrap my arms around your neck, my mouth meeting yours. Overcome by your own passion, you force me backward until I’m trapped between you and the wall, two strong and insurmountable forces that bind me, refusing me quarter. Your hardness presses against my softness, urging me, coaxing me into submission. Your hands caress my hair, my face and neck. They slide over my body, beneath my shirt, across the sensitive skin of my midriff to my breasts, molding them to your palms.
In the misty drizzle, I kiss along your jawline to nibble at your earlobe and along your neck. I love to bite you, to feel your flesh between my teeth, to taste the flavor of you on my tongue. I love to be bitten by you until I shiver and moan. The sensation of your body against mine is bliss.
The rain comes harder now, pelting our bodies. Our lips meet again, and I taste the rain on your mouth, cool droplets mixed with moist heat. I drink you up, parched and needy. When you pull away, I moan plaintively. You smile, your hips still pressed against mine. We stand like that a moment, catching our breath, our foreheads touching, our pounding hearts bound between us.
Tenderly, you take my hand, lace your fingers through mine and lead me out of the alley. The moment is too soon over, but there will come another.
Because one always does.
