reckless

It comes in waves. I can go for weeks without thinking about it at all and then there are days when I run my fingertips along the wall just for the sensation - texture like stubble on a chin. There is a restlessness that comes and goes, an uneasy energy. The mind wanders, but the body is held in check.

I remember sitting in his living room last summer, drinking beer and scotch, feeling a little reckless, remembering how good recklessness can feel. He seemed to know that it would have to be the inevitability of the tide rising slowly, not the force of  the crashing surf.

We shared the same glass, passing it back and forth between us, fingers brushing. The signals were all there, but I wouldn't let myself believe it was really going to happen until he had his pants off. So cautious I'd become, a snail in her shell. 

But then--finally--the touch and response, the familiar sensation of a kiss. Everything tumbling together like pebbles rolling in a wave. The sweetness of abandon, the warm soft breath, the quickening.

Comments

[scott]

Gorgeous.

[nina]

Thanks.