“Do you hear that?” she asked.
“I don’t hear anything, sweetheart. What do you hear?” he replied.
She didn’t think she was close enough for him to hear so she got out of her chair and pulled out one next to him. Turning it towards him and away from the table she sat down and leaned in until her face was close enough to his to feel his breathing.
Without a word he leaned closer until his lips touched hers and a previously imperceptible moan escaped from deep within her.
She pulled away for a moment and smiled.
“Did you hear that?” she asked.
“Mmm Hmm. Felt it too.” he answered with darkened eyes.
“I want you to know something…” she said.
“What?” he asked without taking his eyes off of her lips.
“…it has played in the background of my every thought, my every move, the sound of unreleased yearning. It’s become so loud it can no longer be heard by human ears, only felt with the body and it’s why you came today, why the pictures of me drove you to meet with my lips, why my dreams always leave me stranded, straddled and pleasing, pleased, painting schemes in relief flowering strokes to stretch our truth, an exercise of miles and leather-bound desires, where throbbing want has been locked in diaries to become an opportunist of moments where freedom can escape dressed as a siren and demanding passerby’s pull over in curiosity to watch, where the collision of our bodies makes everyone witness to an orchestrated love scene, where our pile up of long-awaited smoke keeps them high with morphine-like admiration, the injection of our lovemaking a breakthrough in medicinal afternoons dimmed of light by routine and transformed by the physical merging of our souls.” she said.
“Take your clothes off” he softly demanded while looking into her eyes.
“We came here for love. Nothing is covering me. Take them off for me.” she answered.