We danced in the dark. I watched you move from every owl like periphery. I found ways to look at you that would impress my optometrist. Several times I saw other women losing themselves in the music but stealing a gaze in your direction. I’ve never been as impressed with the stature of a man, as I was with yours. And I could see these women were, too.
Your sweat perfumes the air and it makes me ravenous for a flavour of salted musk I did not realise I even had an appetite for. In this second, I forget I am human and feel like an animal hell bent on seducing you into taking me up against this wall so that everyone can watch me fuck you and I can leave this club smelling like your skin.
How did I forget you were this tall?
You’re the only man I’ve ever met who I felt safe being small around. I didn’t know I could like feeling small. I didn’t know I could be so turned on being crushed. And then I felt what it feels like to melt under the weight of an indomitable kind of strength. It was the kind of elixir cynical women like me are scared of drinking because guards come down and I feel inebriated with your softness.
You pulled me out of the car and into the elevator, I begged you not to look at me with those eyes until after I had showered. The way you stared at me after 3 tequilas was the way I look at tiramisu at my favourite Italian restaurant. Jesus fucking Christ, you smelt like a man – and I didn’t even know that I didn’t know what a man smelt like, until we were in that elevator and there was nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.
I don’t even remember walking to the door, or opening that door, or even going inside. It’s as if those 3 minutes it took to move from the elevator to being pressed up like a pretzel up against the cold pane glass of the living room disappeared from time.
A poor attempt at saying, ‘I need to shower first…’ exhausted it’s last try from the pant of my breath. You didn’t want me to wash. And you didn’t want to wash. That much was clear. Good god, I am so glad you made me feel safe enough to do that.
33 years on this planet and every second of this life I have been conscious of how I smell and how I taste because there are parts of me who are still so afraid of being humiliated. But you pushed me past the limits of my inhibitions, slid my panties to the side and made your fingers home in the wettest parts of me.
Every single time you plunged your tongue into my mouth, a part of me let go and let you in. You took each finger that had been inside me, that had touched me and fused to the most primal of my scents, and looked me straight in the eye while you licked every single drop of what you harvested from me, into your mouth.
When I tried to taste me off you, you made it clear that this was your dinner and I might get dessert if I made an art out of waiting my turn. I wanted to lick the beads of sweat off your brow and eat the smirk grin off your face. You dropped to your knees and one lick became two licks, and then my cynicism fell from grace.
A vortex. A fucking vortex of pleasure. What time is it? Who the hell am I?
This was not meant to happen but I am so glad it did.
Mirrors lined the walls of the kitchen, I made a game out of finding ways to worship your body with my eyes at every angle. I bent over the bench and told you that I want to watch you tower over my body and make every hole I have, your own.
With a grunt and a gasp, you obliged. Your hands found the widest part of my hips. Fuck. The weight of your hands made me gush and speak in tongues. Do you often get to be with women you feel safe enough to let the whole gravity of your glory onto? I won’t break. That much I can guarantee you. And I didn’t break, did I?
When each thrust became the drilling of your perfect thick cock, and the ways you filled me in every position we could contort our bodies took me on holiday to a place I had never been to before.
We fell asleep, woke up and I didn’t want to leave.
Over and over again, our bodies played tetris. And when we weren’t finding ways to watch each other’s eyes roll in back of our heads, we spoke about the culture of cinema and I dreamt of you making movies I was excited to show off. You put pillows under me and around me so I would be comfortable while I answered emails. You massaged my wrist when it hurt and my feet so I could relax. You went out to find coffee so I could see straight. And then you let me fall asleep in the nook of your gigantic Thor arms when I literally could not see straight.
Being around you was easy. I hope I don’t forget the way you smile when you’re smelling me.