by Rowan G. Cota
(12/05/01)
I'm sitting in the dark.
You ask why that's important, I know. It puzzles you -- why should you care that I'm sitting here on my bed with all my lights turned off listening to myself breathe? But you're reading anyway, aren't you? You're wondering what I'll talk about.
And I'm tempted to tease you with the descriptions. Of my mouth, tasting like orange juice and cloves and tequila and lemon soda. I'm tempted to tell you that I am looking up at my window and lighting another cigarette. That my lighter and the end of it are the only things lit in this room.
Except for the screen.
I've got a hand laid gently, fingertips barely touching, against the spot. You know the one. The one that makes me whimper just thinking about your lips, your tongue, your teeth. The one that made me sigh against your cheek, that made me twist my hands in your shirt pulling you back to it every second.
What would you say if you knew I was wet?
But now my fingers are flying against the keys, caressing them, imagining you kissing me, slowly, teasingly, drawing it out till I wanted to cry out just from the kiss, wanted you to really kiss me, hard and unyielding.
I'm thinking of your hands in my hair, sliding down over my shoulders, cupping my breasts carefully. Your amazement at feeling them. The relentless way you pulled at my nipples, pressure just firm enough to remind me that you had your hands on me, and you were never letting go.
You wondered once if you could ever fit that role in my head, be the person I wanted to dominate me, or if you'd be scared. If you'd be afraid to hurt me. If all you did was the things you did that night, the things I torture myself with every day, you would have done enough. Especially if you said "no." When I had pleaded, if you made me wait.
I am imagining it. The way your hand felt, as it inched over my skin, under my waistband. How crazy it would have driven me, the pinnacle of sheer ecstacy I would have felt if you had waited, listened to me plead.
"Marc...make me come...."
"No."
I would die. It would be the most amazing feeling, being forced to wait on it, on your leisure. Until you were ready to let me go. Or never, if that was your wish.
And now...
Now I'm sitting here hoping you like this.
