excerpt from, "It All Starts With Sex"
The Talk
He would be here in the late morning, stay three days and then fly back to spend Christmas with his son.
My night was sleepless, tossing and turning, fighting the need to blame, fighting fear, fighting the temptation to run… I don’t know when it happened, but I dosed off only to open my eyes in what seemed mere moments later. The sun was streaming in causing me to blink away the discomfort and rise slowly from the worries that plagued me on yesterday.
I moved through my house as if I were a visitor, forgetting where things were stored, bumping into age- old furniture, but somehow managed to dress and make coffee. During the second cup is when the doorbell rang and I found myself almost running to answer it.
Deliberately, I slowed my pace and twisted the knob and there he stood- Not the confident, steadfast brother I’d met in September, but a man void of whatever blends the elixir of grace and greatness. He wore relaxed-fit jeans, Timbs, a skull cap and Bomber jacket. It wasn’t a bad look on him, but came off as a remnant from another life.
In my assessment, I’d forgotten to invite him in and quickly rectified my mistake by hand gesturing, “Vanna White” style for him to enter. The umbrella of his continence betrayed that he had been just as torn as I was and I felt the weight of his pain, his shame and discomfort. But, here he stood, all because I called-
“Can I take your coat?” I said reaching…
“Ember, how could you punish me for things out of my control?”
I had no answer.
“How could you ignore my calls?”
“Let me get you something warm to drink.” I said, attempting to breeze by him and into the kitchen, but he moved into my path of escape.
“Yes, baby, get us some coffee…” He said with a no-nonsense glare.
Only then, did he step aside and follow me into the kitchen.
“Still cream and sugar?”
“Stop playin’ Ember. Hospitality aint gone fix this shit! Either you want me, or you don’t!”
Now, he was all up in my personal space, and try as I might I didn’t have the strength to chasten him about arm-length policies.
He began backing me up into the kitchen counter; bam! …Butt pressing the counters edge from the pressure of his frontal contact. I was a fish on a hook looking up into his undeviating gaze.
“I love you, Queen…”
“Gregory, I’m…”
Before I could say “sorry,” he was holding me… tightly and then turning to lead me upstairs. I followed-No questions…
We undressed quickly, knowing, recognizing our unique language of love. Then we lay beneath the sheets, feeling one another’s electricity of longing magnetizing us for the rushed sensation, but we both resisted in lieu of just being …
I loved him with all of me and as though he’d heard my thoughts, he pushed me gently onto my back and mounted me while kissing me with lasting tongue play and gentle lip biting… I felt his leg move between mine, spreading them apart and then the press....
Photo Credits: Love.inwords-Tumblr license unspecified, and common usage photos
