The room had one pathetic excuse for a lamp lit. There was a haze that lingered at the ceiling from tobacco smoke and other vices. The black out curtains had been drawn the whole weekend unless they were thrown open to fuck against the frigid bay window overlooking the city lights.
He was sitting at the small wobbly table frantically writing away in a worn notebook. You could always tell when he was in a trance by the cigarette burning away loosely between his lips. He never bothered to wipe away the fallen ashes.
She was lying on her stomach watching him from the bed. The covers littered the floor along with clothes that were strewn from two nights prior. The maid hadn’t seen the inside of the room since the previous occupants vacated.
There was a slight mannerism that caused her to crawl to him from her comfortable spot. He had extinguished the cigarette and licked his lips. His oral fixation was already nagging. This very act caused her insides to stir and she made her way to him. He didn’t even notice she was on the ground beside him. It was when she grabbed his left hand and pushed his lean fingers into her mouth that he snapped to reality. She licked the tobacco stained fingertips. He dropped the pen to the table and it rolled to the floor.
Eyes locked. Lust filled as if it were the first time. Over and over.
He pulled her up, pushed her to the bed, spread her legs and devoured her. Her arms flailed about reaching for a savor and found his head full of hair. She pulled him into her. She wanted to meld into him so there would never be this separation of the world between them. His mouth and fingers pushed her into another plane of existence. She was out of her body in the smoky haze above the bed. When she screamed obscenities into the stale air he knew he found the right spot and rhythm. He wouldn’t stop. She yelled in one syllable words and words he had never heard before. She saw bright lights and her body erupted without her consent. She wanted to ball up but he never allowed it. These orgasms were not for her but for him.
The tears flowed. She didn’t want him to stop. She knew in fifteen minutes she would be pining for more.
“No” and “Stop” were not in her vocabulary.
He always knew just when to stop and also knew when she would crawl back for more. It was when she passed out from the intensity of it all that he moved from the bed back to the wobbly table. Found his pen. Found a cigarette and lit it. He was back in his writing trance.
Special “Thank you” to Urban Sanyaasi for the inspiration.
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