Public Transport III-Almost the End of the Line

We had been walking for at least a half an hour before it dawned on me that we had not spoken. His physical presence was so overpowering that he had somehow calmed my nervous, chatty nature into complete silence without me even realizing it. The idea that any verbal communication might be impossible darted across my mind like a shooting star and fell somewhere beyond the horizon. His hand in mine, his warmth spilling out onto my coldness, his very presence felt soothing like a warm bath. In his regard I was anointed .

We continued to ramble along, crossing train tracks and streets, going through tunnels and coming out on the other side. We approached a park. The temperature dropped slightly as we walked under giant, ancient trees. He put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer. A group of school children, trotting merrily along, two by two, crossed our path without giving us a second thought.

Tucked safely under his wing, I could smell him fully. I was breathing him in like a fine wine, retaining his scent in a feeble attempt at memorizing him for less exceptional days, for days that just pass by without leaving any trace. He smelled like everything good on this earth, like colorful spices in a market in Morocco, like an oasis in the middle of a sun-drenched desert, like a feast waiting to be consumed.

Under a leafy fig tree his full lips touched mine, lightly, furtively. Testing the water. In a heartbeat he plunged in, an exotic mixture of tenderness and sheer force. Although I had been waiting for this passionate embrace ever since I ran into him on the bus, I was startled when it actually occurred. He took my breath away, making me forget my will, my name. I was transformed from a solid human being into a liquid.

Oozing, warm, thick like syrup.

6 comments

  1. Dawn D

    Hmmm, lovely!!
    The smell… How I can relate! I was telling Sofia about it today. Or was it Elle? I don’t remember, it’s getting too late here 🙂
    What is it with you ladies today though, telling me of passionate kisses or wonderful spankings? You really decided I should be made to yearn, didn’t you? *Sigh*! It worked 😉
    Beautiful writing Dawn, as always.

    • pivoine68

      Yearning is an art form I think! I wrote on here somewhere (although I didn’t really make it up) that as women we don’t always want to be had….we want to be wanted. So I guess I yearn continuously to be wanted. And spanked! Lol! Have an excellent day Dawn D!

      Bisous,
      Moi

      • Dawn D

        I so agree with you on the ‘we want to be wanted’ thing. It’s a great feeling to be wanted, isn’t it?! I certainly experienced that 18 months ago, even if I wasn’t ‘had’ so much. To know I was wanted changed my life.
        But, at the moment, I think I yearn more than to just be wanted. I think I am wanted already. But I’d really like to be had 😉
        Oh well, all in its own time I suppose 🙂
        Bisous Dawn!

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