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I slip beneath the cool cotton sheet, skin still slightly damp from the bath.

The warm contented sigh of the breeze from the open window above my bed, lifts the cotton sheet and I smell lavender.

Arms spread wide, fingertips running along the smooth cotton and the mellow air caressing my skin.

The gentle gusts from the window feel like His breath on my face as I turn my head towards Him and the pillow His hand on my cheek.

I feel Him sliding into bed next to me and feverish heat engulfs me.

I keep my eyes closed.

Running my hands through my hair the delicious knot of tension in the pit of my stomach builds.

My hands are no longer my own, my left I run down the length of my side, trailing fingernails gently along my skin, gentle pressure from His hands: His climbers hands that seek out the new terrain of my body, testing, teasing.

The other hand traces small circles on my breast with fingertips barely touching.

I bite my lip and my hips rise slightly, sending the wordless request to Him, wanting Him to explore further.

I feel His hot breath on my neck and I know if I were to open my eyes right now He would look into my eyes and see what I need from Him, He would see who I truly am.

My limbs feel heavy, languid, fluid - I am water on rock, hurling myself against Him, unable to do or be anything more than I am – tidal controlled by the moon, pulled by the current, pulled onto Him, crashing again and again against Him.

A hand is dragged down, pulled by the strengthening swell.

Fingertips find the smooth warm dampness which rolls in as the next wave breaks over the rocks.

Fingers dipping and swirling, pressing harder, deeper, back arching in response.

Breathing now shorter, beads of saltwater sweat begin to run in rivulets along my collarbone, the warm breeze now a misty fret enveloping me.

Shuddering waves wash over me again and again until I am lifted higher and higher onto the peak and I am soaring.

I am released.

I roll over, body pressed down into the bed, my fingers I slowly suck as the peace spreads though me.

Each inch of flesh tingles as the cotton caresses it, hip bones teased, thighs tickled.

I lift my feet behind me, cross them at the ankles, hands cup my chin and elbows sink into the pillow.

Now He would lean across me, run His hand gently over my shoulders, sweeping them down to the curve of my arse where He would pause, waiting to hear my breath shorten again.

Then He would slide over me, kneel between my parted legs, lift the hair at my neck, lean in and kiss me there gently before gripping my hips, raising me slightly and then plunging Himself into me, taking what is His.




My body aches and aches – empty salt water, the tide carries nothing upon it, no foam from which Venus is born, the current pulls me yet it cannot drown me for He is not here.

I turn onto my back again, throw the sheet off my sweating body and I lie still, saltwater pooling in my ears.

I watch the stars grow brighter in the dark sky until they slowly start to fade as the morning sky turns from a deep bruised mauve to gentle lavender.
( chickenlady b3ta's very own Elizabeth Taylor, Tue 8 Jul 2008, 17:21, Reply)