Word of the Day: Posh

Uncategorized

Posh (adj.) elegant or stylishly luxurious; in an upper-class way

I turn into the Hobbies and Crafts aisle in Barnes and Noble and see what looks to be the answer to my prayers. A Spanish goddess dressed in a black and gold long sleeve V-neck romper with posh earrings and a necklace that disappears into her cleavage is rummaging through a row of books, her long black hair cascading from her shoulders in subtle curls. My breath slackens and I have to tighten my glutes just to keep my knees from melting. It’s a collective effort because my blood has gone hot, my heart pumping it through my veins so furiously that you would think stopping would be the only thing it wanted do. Yet, I manage.

Predator to prey, I center my focus, trying to pay attention more to the spines of the books she is looking at than the lustrous curve at the bottom of her spine. I fail. I wonder if a man bought that Chanel purse on her arm… No matter. She is here now. Alone. I make my way towards her.

“They told me you would be worth the wait.” She looks over at me but doesn’t straighten her back. She can stay in that position if she wants.

“And who are they?” she asks.

“The seconds it took for me to realize today is my lucky day. Barely any.” I grin. Not the kind a mother would be proud of either. No need to show my pearly whites yet.

“Is that right? Well that means you didn’t wait very long.” She’s a smart ass. Of course she is. She reads.

“That’s what you’re supposed to do when you see something you want,” I say. Ahhhh, now she straightens her back. Seems like I’ve finally gotten her attention. She is tall, even without her black suede boots and her honey-brown eyes assess me further, matching the words to the face, the black v-neck and jeans, the posture. Looking to see if everything adds up. I will myself to still, my breath coming and going silently like a cool breeze on a lonely beach with black sands.

“Didn’t your mother tell you you can’t always have what you want?” she says, a coy smile flattening her lips. I find a way to stand straighter.

“While mothers do say such things, they also say once you find a good woman to never let her go.” Her brows arched then, her mouth making a small “o.” My mind begins to revel in debaucheries.

“What makes you think I’m good?” Her hands find her hips and her eyes narrow. What they’re looking for, I’m not quite sure. You’re in the Hobbies and Crafts section for goodness sake. What else am I supposed to think?

“A woman in a bookstore is a fortune money can’t buy.” I just hit a nerve. It’s written all over her body. And her vibe. She is mine.

“And who said that?” she says with a smile that stirs my pride and joy. I show my teeth, my smile crooked as lightning.

“Me,” I say.

Word of the Day: Impetuous

Uncategorized

Impetuous: (adj.) 1. acting or done quickly without thought or care; rash; impulsive

2. moving forcefully or rapidly

When she is looking at me the way she is, all wide-eyed as if I may disappear if she so happens to blink, her lips parted so that only a whisper could escape her lips and her legs wrapped around my waist as if my body was as much as a part of her own as her full breasts on my chest, its no wonder my blood boils with a blinding passion to want to lose myself inside of her. An impetuous kiss, before I can change my mind, before she can breathe again. Now, her breath is mine.

Our lips are locked, wet and unforgiving, searching for any and everything: the truth, the beginning, the end… An anger swells my chest at the thought of not knowing the taste of her until now and the need of her embrace feeds the fire of my soul I thought to be dead before she became the everything in my world. What a moment. I am lost in these emotions, lost in her motion.

The motion.

The next thing I know, I do the most cliche thing I’ve ever done in my life. With one massive swipe of my arm, I clear the desk of all the shit that’s not worth mentioning, her body still cradled close to my body in my other arm. Close to my heart, the vibrating thing. She lets out a sound I dare not call a laugh because its so filled with ravenous want that I can feel it in my bones. One of the most liveliest sounds I’ve ever heard. I push myself against her just before sitting her on the desk and she goes completely berserk. The hem of my shirt…over my head. Her hands…fumbling my buckle. I knock them away and start doing it myself because she is taking too long. A devil of a giggle spills from her tongue and she scratches me, all ten fingers, down my chest, my abdomen. Best feeling ever. Me being naked, I start taking her clothes off, having to reluctantly pull away from another kiss to pull her shirt off and free her cleavage. I hear my breath in my ears and it sounds so foreign. Ragged, harsh, even unsure, as if to whether its supposed to be sustaining my life or hers. Who knows? I’ve lost my end and her beginning. We are tumbling as one, a kaleidoscope of colors, a melody of beautiful savagery, a perfect storm with monstrous waves and vengeful winds. Her skin is soft under my long fingers, warm and reddened with anticipation. I’ve waited and waited and waited for this. Her hair between my fingers. I yank, lifting her chin and exposing her throat. She gasps. Her smell is…divine. My want explodes.

Finally, she is naked. My heart beats wildly at my ribs as we make eye contact and then time stills. She is ready.

I am ready.

I pull her to me and then…

I wake up.