fiction
There once was a girl
who had a little curl
right in the middle of her forehead.
And when she was good,
she was very, very good.
And when she was bad,
She was horrid.
I come home to find you on the sofa, bare-chested and in jeans, a sight for sore eyes after a long, sad day. I plop my purse down and curl up next to you. I can't resist nuzzling your skin with my nose, inhaling every essence of you. It's warm and sweet. Then I twirl my fingers though the chest hair you've let grow out, just for that very purpose. I bet your skin would be salty to my lips if I pressed them where they rested, below your shoulder, next to your nipple.
Your arms wrap around me tighter, pulling me closer. You stroke my hair. Encouraged, I take the nipple into my mouth, making you arch against the back of the couch. I cock my head to see your grin surrounded by bright flush cheeks. I want to reach up and caress that beautiful face; to lavish love upon it for the way it looks at me. But I stay still.
"You minx, you're so naughty."
"You like me naughty," I say.
"I love you naughty."
It's then I reach up to stroke your face. Damn visceral sentimentality; it threatens to betray me. I close my eyes against the oncoming tide.
"Hey." Your voice gently caresses my heart. "What is it?"
My smile presses against the skin of your chest. I can feel your heart beating under my cheek.
"It's nothing. It's everything. It's the Grand Canyon, a microbe, and everything in between. It's the Treaty of Versailles and a pinky swear." I open my eyes even though they are wet. You are bemused.
"You love me naughty.
You love my goodness.
You love my bad, ugly, beautiful, cranky, messiness.
You love my scars.
You love my spirit.
You love my failures."
I stop and you nod ardently.
"Why?" I ask.
You lean down and kiss me. "Because you love me naughty. And you love my bad, mean, and ugly. You love my ego, pride, and temper. You always see my innate goodness, and love me in spite of myself."
I nod. "Cool."
Your laughter rings rich and warm. "Cool?" You pull me up so I'm cradled on your lap, and I let my head loll against your neck and shoulder. A warm breeze comes through the sliders. You reach for the remote, and out of the dim of the evening light the hometown team appears in glorious high definition stereo.
"We are so going to kick your ass."
I poke you and whisper in your ear:
"No matter to me. As long as I get last licks."
~end.
who had a little curl
right in the middle of her forehead.
And when she was good,
she was very, very good.
And when she was bad,
She was horrid.
I come home to find you on the sofa, bare-chested and in jeans, a sight for sore eyes after a long, sad day. I plop my purse down and curl up next to you. I can't resist nuzzling your skin with my nose, inhaling every essence of you. It's warm and sweet. Then I twirl my fingers though the chest hair you've let grow out, just for that very purpose. I bet your skin would be salty to my lips if I pressed them where they rested, below your shoulder, next to your nipple.
Your arms wrap around me tighter, pulling me closer. You stroke my hair. Encouraged, I take the nipple into my mouth, making you arch against the back of the couch. I cock my head to see your grin surrounded by bright flush cheeks. I want to reach up and caress that beautiful face; to lavish love upon it for the way it looks at me. But I stay still.
"You minx, you're so naughty."
"You like me naughty," I say.
"I love you naughty."
It's then I reach up to stroke your face. Damn visceral sentimentality; it threatens to betray me. I close my eyes against the oncoming tide.
"Hey." Your voice gently caresses my heart. "What is it?"
My smile presses against the skin of your chest. I can feel your heart beating under my cheek.
"It's nothing. It's everything. It's the Grand Canyon, a microbe, and everything in between. It's the Treaty of Versailles and a pinky swear." I open my eyes even though they are wet. You are bemused.
"You love me naughty.
You love my goodness.
You love my bad, ugly, beautiful, cranky, messiness.
You love my scars.
You love my spirit.
You love my failures."
I stop and you nod ardently.
"Why?" I ask.
You lean down and kiss me. "Because you love me naughty. And you love my bad, mean, and ugly. You love my ego, pride, and temper. You always see my innate goodness, and love me in spite of myself."
I nod. "Cool."
Your laughter rings rich and warm. "Cool?" You pull me up so I'm cradled on your lap, and I let my head loll against your neck and shoulder. A warm breeze comes through the sliders. You reach for the remote, and out of the dim of the evening light the hometown team appears in glorious high definition stereo.
"We are so going to kick your ass."
I poke you and whisper in your ear:
"No matter to me. As long as I get last licks."
~end.