laundry love [completed]

f o r t y e i g h t : la douleur exquise

l a d o u l e u r e x q u i s e . that was the word that stood out from my muddled mind when she studied me with those eyes.

i watched her watch me. and god, i wanted to kiss her so bad.

clad in a provocative crop top and distressed shorts that she had hacked herself with kitchen scissors, ira watched me take a puff of the marlboro. her eyes, her e s s e n c e, were hidden under coats of thick mascara and kohl. with the way she carried herself, it was clear that she had only one aim in mind: to lose herself in the crowd.

la douleur exquise: the heart wrenching pain of wanting the affection of someone unattainable.

i wanted to get out of here, away from her intense gaze, away from her. before i could do something that would screw our relationship up.

t h e n ,

i felt her lips on mine. it took a minute for me to process what was happening. a minute. another one. then, it sunk in: her soft fingers sifting through my hair. her naked skin against my calloused hands. her tongue grazing, teasing my lower lip. her eau, her perfume driving me in a frenzy.

and before i could overthink, i pushed her against the barricade and let myself drown in her quintessence. and drown i did.

she shuddered under my touch. i shivered as the cold air kissed my lips, only to be embraced by her warm mouth.

she kissed my lips. i tasted hers.

her fingers danced under my flimsy layer of clothing. i let my hands wander dangerously close to her hips. her back. her breasts.

she gasped. i moaned.

she stopped, her hands fumbling to unfasten my belt. i stopped when i noticed her grey eyes tinted with haze, with morphine, with uncertainty.