In the gaze of the other

"My mistress' eyes are nothing…"

Cellular Flash

4 Comments

Credit: Time.com

“What did you say? You whispered,” she says softly raspy-tinged returning from a lull in vocalization. They are relaxing now in exhaustion-peace, under the blankets, warm, woolen and wet with sweat, cum, grape seed oil and Pink lubricant. They have been lying together like this for a long while now stilly on the edge of slumber.

Her face is half under the blanket nose to chin, while her eyes rest slits to the air, mouth twisted into her lover’s shoulder molded to the contours of shoulder and nape of neck.
“Oh, I love you too, baby.” She tucks her head further under the blanket so that her eyes are now covered and closed.

“I think I have always loved you.” She says it out loud and the muffled words resonate in the stifled air as she thinks about how that’s true and not true. She is sure there was a time when she didn’t love her, didn’t even know her. But she experiences her like a roundness that encircles her whole being from before time til after its cessation. She can’t put the feeling to words, articulate the depth or expansiveness of such a knowing. But she continues to search for words, foggily, as she lies there inside the growing humidity of breath, body heat and dissipating oxygen supply.

She thinks, “It’s like a light…. Hey, a light! I can see a light, yes. Wait…” She is stunned. Her breath pauses stuck on the inhale for a long 5 or 6 seconds. Her eyes widened in astonishment, her mouth an anguished “O” of recognition, she tears away the blanket in a swift swoosh, cutting the warmth of the now suffocating air and razoring it with a cool streak of newly realized air, fresh from the surface where her love lies now awakened by the sudden explosion of motion….

“Are you checking your cell phone?!!”

4 thoughts on “Cellular Flash

  1. Love in the new millennium. Always seeking, briefly having.

  2. Oh man, this is beautiful. Nice piece. A hit for sure.

  3. Reading it again – the last part about the tearing away of the blanket and the way you describe it, exactly how I have experienced it but you paint it like I would never have conceived that moment, that instant of feeling you don’t realize is really the texture and feel that you carry forever, find it connects you to each time, because it is you. But focusing on that moment with the words you’ve chosen, masterly.

  4. Thank you both for your comments, helpful as always.

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