Thursday, January 15, 2009

Breathless

Just a little story from my time as a single woman in America...
Dating was always one of my greatest pleasures!

Too many drinks, too many smokes....
music--every song the soundtrack to your eyes on mine...
your skin on mine.
we stumble to a room, a mattress on the floor.
candles cover every surface,
a fleeting thought to light them is replaced with your lips on mine.
where are we?--another fleeting thought replaced with your hand on my bare stomach, pushing my shirt higher.
the music is loud, the smoke heavy, softening the edges of everything.
you ask to see my tattoo.
i unbutton my pants, opening them to reveal my hip to you...
you kneel, kissing...your hands on my waist.
showing so much restraint, creating so much heat....
we are so young, so unsure.
breathless.
you look up at me, head cocked, questioning.
i nod slightly, my breathing turns shallow.
you slide my pants down, i step out.
you stand, pulling your t-shirt over your head.
you kiss me on the mouth, both of us suddenly aware of so much skin, a closed door, a bed...
i touch your chest with a tenative hand, the thrill from it reaching my toes.
our kisses open our minds and bodies to each other--and close out all else.
the music stops for a moment, and we hear voices.
we pause, looking into each other's eyes--by mistake, almost.
the shyness nearly returns,
but the music starts again and we make our way to that bed on the floor, shedding clothes along the way.
all of your skin on all of mine, the kissing continues, each of us afraid to take the next step.
you say my name and my stomach flips.
i look at you, mouth open ready to speak...
you say your name with a soft smile, for the first time that evening.
my hands go to your purposely-messy hair, a thumb tracing your studded earlobe.
your hand strays down my side, hesitantly inching inward...
i let out a soft moan as your fingers find their mark.
i reach down to touch....you...so smooth...
both of us ready, both of us hesitant.
i spread my legs wider, you sink in.
we both sigh.
moving together in a rhythm so soft and sure, that it seems we've done this a thousand times.
in that moment i know it is the future i'm feeling and not the past.
you know it too, and smile, saying my name again, the breath it takes tickling my ear.
your hands are soft and have found all the right places, this interlocking opening the store of memories yet to come.
we have become a sweating writhing tangle of limbs, with tunnel vision.
my nails find your back, your lips find my breasts, we are lost in this maze.
it builds to a frenzy of need, being released only by the waves of ecstasy which wash over us together.

6 comments:

Bud said...

Yeah, this is good Lisa stuff. Hey where the hell are you? You forget to link me up?

Middle-Aged Radical Stuck in Suburbia said...

Love it! I also want to read your new blog, though. Please let me know how to find you. MarchComet@gmail.com

Leen said...

breathless indeed

Mr. L said...

It's the new-old-new-old-new Lisa! I'd know that writing anywhere! :)

Bored Housewife said...

Yeah, I'm planning on a lot of recycled stuff, Mr. L, so don't be surprised if you suffer from deja vu when you pop on by. :)

Indeed, Leen love!

Thanks, March Comet. If you can prove you're not my ex husband, you're IN! (sorry, a little gun shy at the moment...his b-day is in March so I apologize for being so vague)

Never, never, Bud!! I put your link on my new sidebar long ago, but hadn't gotten around to telling you (or anyone) where to find ME. Sorry... :)

Middle-Aged Radical Stuck in Suburbia said...

Your ex!!!! I'm MarchComet because I have three children born in March whose names are Courtney, Michael and Ethan - Comet! I hope none of them share a birthday with him . . . Anyway, I get the "gun shy" part (I'm a lawyer and also divorced) so no need to apologize . . .