The French Quarter

I wait anxiously, resting both elbows on the narrow railing of the balcony.  It  was one of many quiet and unassuming rooming houses in the French Quarter.

I inhale deeply, sucking in the perfume of the sweet magnolias and orchids that grew all around the railing and up along the opening of the tiny room.  I can sense the night creatures milling about below me, finding their way through pockets of beautiful people.  Their quiet, surreal voices bumping along on the sticky night air like dark chocolate chips ready to melt.  I catch their scent as they waft by; seeking poor, lost souls.

My nightgown is clinging to me in the sweltering heat as I sip on the now warm lemonade I had made an hour before.  It wasn’t a nightgown really.  It was nothing more than a stretched piece of worn out cotton that had at one time been a favorite t-shirt.  It comforted me in foreign cities.  I cherished it.

I savour the slightly bitter lemonade; the sensation of tartness on my tongue.  It mingles with the salt of my upper lips awash in sweaty anticipation.  When?…I ask myself.

I closed my eyes and I remembered.

I remembered looking into your eyes and losing myself for just a moment.  Wanting desperately to know what you saw in mine, I was riveted.  Yours are direct and powerful like the burning embers of a long forgotten fire, blazing on with a life of their own.

I remembered the exact sheen of your honey roasted almond skin.  The way the sweat dripping from your stunning face wound its way down your neck entangling with your hair.  The way the light shone on the tiny drops as they were cast aside like so many tumbling diamonds.  All I had wanted was to bury my face in your throat, to feel the wetness on my cheek, to hear your pulse throbbing against my temple.

I remembered catching a glimpse of a precious place where the sun hadn’t yet kissed you.  The hue much more muted and soft.  It teased me from under the cotton, calling out to me that I was uninvited.  It was sweet agony.

I remembered watching the flesh of your arms dance.  I wanted to feel their protection around me, tightly…squeezing.  I was mesmerized by the power in those limbs.  With well worn hands they created mysteries and passions, heartache and despair for all who chose to see.

I remembered your thigh, so soft and firm when I so casually touched it.  I couldn’t hear what you were saying to me, I was so enraptured by the thought of nuzzling that creamy, bronzed skin.  To brush the inside of those powerful thighs with my lips, to run my tongue along those sleek muscles, to gently nibble as your body slowly gave in, that would have been divine.

As I put down the glass on the tiny wrought iron table, I hear the door from the hallway close quietly.  I straighten up and turn away to face the moon.  She’s almost full and I can feel the weight of her pulling on the tides of my heart.  I stare out into the humming city not seeing it or even caring if it sees me.  I hear the creak of the old floorboards as you come closer.  I again rest my forearms on the railing trying to appear relaxed.  Can you tell my every muscle is taut?  I feel like a gazelle pausing for a necessary drink by a cool stream frequented by the mighty lioness, desperate and thirsty, but at what cost.  You come closer and closer still.  I can feel your breath on my back as you stand directly behind me.  I am awed by the power you have over me.  How very provocative.

It’s been so very long.  Too long.

Your hand reaches out slowly and your exquisitely roughened fingertips touch the nape of my neck.  I am electrified.  Frozen in time, I can barely breathe.  You wind your fingers agonizingly slow down the length of my spine, playing me gently like a priceless instrument.  I can feel the roar of the sea crashing in my ears.  Waves pounding against granite boulders tear through my senses.

At the base of my back you pause.  Perhaps a smile crosses your lips as you see the goosebumps along my entire frame even though it’s 105 degrees.  Perhaps you want to slow the pace of your heart as it speeds up to catch mine.  The seconds creep by in slow motion like ballet dancers on tiptoes.

Are you frightened?  Will you continue?

Suddenly, you grasp my flesh and as you delicately squeeze it, a moan escapes me, softly like the wisps of steam rising on hot asphalt after a storm.  Both of your hands move to my thighs to grab each side of my shirt.  You gently and slowly start to lift it.  I straighten up as if in a trance, swaying slightly.  As you raise it, your thumbs ride along the small of my back causing the ethereal sensation of purple swirls of pleasure dripping all around me.  Your thumbs continue to caress my soft, pink skin as I raise my arms, exposed as the night air wraps itself gently around me.  The bottom edge of the shirt slides up approaching my breasts.  They are tensed and swollen with anticipation.  You linger.  As the material glides over my nipples, a current of electricity plummets to my core.  I am shaking.

The cloth covers my face.  Then I am unmasked and exposed; vulnerable.  You stop when your hands are at my wrists and the cotton is wrapped tightly around them.  I am prepared to disappear in this moment forever.  As you tenderly hold me captive, you lean forward and touch your perfect lips to my shoulder.  I can feel them searing into my flesh, the sizzle as your tongue slips out to gently lap on its way to my neck.  I barely have the strength to stand on my own.  Our arms lower in front of me in unison and I feel you press against me.  You whisper in my ear.  I am overflowing with desire.

I turn slowly to face you and the fabric slips away like little children running back to bed.  I look into those gorgeous deep eyes that can see into my soul.  You reach for my face as my hands slip around your back and slide under your shirt.  I feel your silky skin, moist with the sweat of passion.  I trace the muscles of your back and feel you giving in.  Your lips have found mine and they lock together.  Your tongue escapes briefly to test the waters.  I reach for it, but it quickly hides.  It senses acceptance and rushes to meet mine.  I’m swimming around in a hot, foamy sea spinning out of control but not afraid.  I don’t want to ever leave the sanctity of your sweet, sensuous mouth.

I can feel the brass button of your denim digging into my belly like a branding iron.  At this moment, I want to be owned, possessed.  Loathe to tear myself away from your skin for a split second, I reach for the button.  It is torn off the shorts and lands like a lucky penny at our feet.  My heart pounds as I pull away from you and look into your eyes.  The denim joins my t-shirt unceremoniously.  You raise your shirt over your head and it too, hits the floor.

Finally you stand in all your naked brilliance before me.  I am overwhelmed at your stunning form.  You are a wondrous beauty, sculpted from Aphrodite’s image.  My body aches and my hands reach out.  A spark has turned into a raging inferno, stoked by the rush of southern night air that is you.

Sexy Sadie

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