Lips Don’t Lie

It could not have been a more perfect evening. Romance and intense sexual tension imbued the air surrounding us, I wanted him, and I wanted him badly.

I found myself clinching to the wine glass as the look of his biceps peeking through his off-white polo shirt enthralled my imagination. He’s talking to me, but everything is a blur—all I can see are his perfectly plumped lips. For the first time, I’ve heard an angel speak—this must be heaven. I pondered on what his warm, manly breath would feel like slithering down my ear canal while we…you know—do what’s destined. I want his angelic voice to speak risqué things to me while he harmonizes with my body and soul. As the blur faded, a high-pitched voice came into focus.

“Ma’am, have you decided on what you’ll be having tonight?”

I wanted to tell the server that my meal was already prepared and served itself across the table from me.

“I’ll have umm…The Anderson Special, with a lot of creamy sauce on the sausage please.”

“We don’t serve—”

“Can we have a few more minutes please,” Anderson interrupted.

“Sure, not a problem. Take your time.”

His eyes caressed my body as he glared at my cleavage—biting and licking his lips occasionally. Chills gyrated down my spine as he assured me that it was okay and that I should relax. I tried to remain unflustered, though I’d much rather hear the words “relax” as he nibbles on the sweet spot on my neck.

After we got done eating and left the restaurant, I became a little anxious about his next move. I wasn’t sure if I should take the initiative—after all, I wanted this more than he did. He told me to follow him down an empty alley—it was pitch black and only had a single street light. I was effervescent, like a kid waiting at the ice cream truck for their favorite ice cream.

He pinned me against the wall, hands in crucified position with his overlaying mine. He thoroughly explored my mouth—palate and all. His tongue exuded the expertise of one that underwent rigorous training—unparalleled strength and impeccable technique. I couldn’t hold back the tears of joy engendered by the satisfaction he instilled in my body—mostly my mouth, but it transcended throughout every subatomic particle of my cells.

“There’s something I must tell you,” I sighed.

“What is it?”

“My husband can’t find out about this, he is crazy!”

With a precarious smile on his face, he whispered, “Neither can mine.”

© Jenoy Merchant and merchantwritesagain.wordpress.com, 2020